“Is it Friday?” asked Daisy, “I want to go out. Let’s go out this evening!”

“You want to look for a boyfriend this evening?” grinned Clare. “Tall, dark and handsome?”

“I want to go dancing. Can I go dancing this evening?”

“Your cuppa’s going cold -”

“I haven’t been dancing for so long. Let’s go out. Let’s get the girls. I want to get all dolled up, you know.” She tilted her head.

Clare looked around. The sunlight was causing thousands of tiny dust stars near the window to twinkle as they danced and orbited.

“What’d you wear, Daisy? Have you got a nice dress for going out?”

“I’ve lots of nice dresses. It’s so hard to choose…”

“I always think blue looks lovely on you, Dais; it matches your eyes. You’d look fab in blue tonight.”

“I love blue. How did you know? Oh listen, I’ve got that tune in my head again. Do you know the one?”

“Which one is that?”

“Da da da – ‘I may be right, I may be wrong’, you know?”

Clare didn’t know. She stood and picked up a book.

“Well, you’ll need to give me more than that. Who’s it by?”

“Anne… Anne? somebody,” she frowned, then hummed quietly to herself while Clare watched, “‘perfectly willing to swear, when you turned and smiled at me’ – that’s it! – ‘a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square‘”, tapping her fingers as she reached the last line. “Do you know it?”

“I think I’ve heard of it. I’m not sure I know it. Shall I find it on my phone?” and she got her mobile out and typed away.

“Are you calling the girls?” Daisy asked. “It’s Friday, isn’t it? We always used to go dancing on a Friday. I met Harry dancing, did I tell you that?”

“We’ll get you all dressed up, Dais,” Clare said, kneeling to the chair and placing the screen into Daisy’s stiff fingers. “Here, press that. Is this the tune? Tell me if it’s not loud enough.”

Daisy held the phone and listened. While the song played, Clare went and retrieved two blue dresses from Daisy’s wardrobe. One navy, one cornflower.

“We’ll do your hair too, Dais,” she said. “Now, which of these do you prefer?”

Daisy was smiling and humming to herself. She looked up.

“Oh, I do love to go out dancing. Every Friday we went. I love this song. Which dress? I don’t know, dear. What would look good?”

“I think this one,” Clare said, hanging the cornflower dress from the picture rail. “You have a lovely necklace that’ll go with it. Now let’s just sort your hair out. You can’t go out looking like that, you know!”

Daisy chuckled.

Out in the corridor, someone was getting into the lift.

“I want to get all dolled up, you know. Nice red lipstick. Eye shadow.”

“Will do. You’ll be the prettiest one there.”

“Did I tell you how I met Harry? One Friday, dancing. I love to dance. Is it Friday?”