Marie pulls up outside my house and as I step out of the car, I catch a glint in her eyes, a majestic twinkle that I could stare at for hours.

"It was great meeting you today Paul, perhaps we could do it again sometime." She calls after me.

"Perhaps" I say suggestively, with a subtle wink, before making my way up the path to my door.

As I step through the door I am greeted by the fresh smell of baked confectionery and the delightful giggles of two innocent, young girls, who sit enthralled by one of their beloved shows.

Beside them, sits Victoria Ainsley, the wife to George Ainsley, who much like her husband was aged, wise and kind-hearted, a pillar of the community, always happy to lend a hand.

She was an avid baker, who had previous experience in the game of espionage or so she claims.

As I make my way closer towards them, I notice, much to my surprise, the girls are not the only ones uncontrollably laughing.

Victoria herself was too, which comes as such a shock, because in all the time I have known her, I have never seen her truly shed her emotions.

I mean, I have seen her smile and I have seen a few tears drip from her eyes, but it was always so controlled and dignified that it always made me wonder whether the emotions that she showed were real or a façade that she used, for the sake of appearing like the rest of us.

I call out to them, all three of them instinctively snapping their heads towards me, with the girls springing up from the couch, feet padding against the hardened floor, as they rush to embrace me.

Victoria remains seated, giving a courteous wave, as she exclaims "I did not expect you back so soon!"

I explain the situation to Victoria, before turning my attention to the girls to ask "How are you, both?"

Chelsea answers the question silently, giving a thumbs up to signify that she was good.

While Abi lets out an excited squeal as she states "Happy! So happy because we had a daddy day, making daddy's favourite cake, drawing pictures of everything daddy likes and playing his game."

On the mention of the game, Victoria chimes in, as she comments "I must say it is a well thought out concept and with a few tweaks here and there, it could become a proper marketable product. I found it highly pleasurable, which is saying something, considering I often find such games a foolish pastime."

I nod, giving a polite laugh, before turning toward Chelsea, whose face is pressed with tiredness, her hair knotted and tangled, clearly not having brushed it this morning.

She is still dressed in her pyjamas, both girls are, having stayed at mine last night.

Chelsea sports a pair of grey bottoms with black stripes and a grey pullover with a gothic silhouette on the front.

While Abi wears an Olaf Onesie from the beloved Disney film Frozen.

Abi continues on telling me about the day, as she says "Oh, and we listened to Oprah."

"Oprah?" I query.

"Yeah, where they sing in different languages and go la la la."

It takes a minute for the penny to drop, but when it does, I respond "Ah, you mean Opera."

To which, almost instinctively, as if the universe can hear us, an operatic tune resounds around the room.

As I turn towards the source of the sound, I see that what the girls were watching was not a beloved show, but clips of memories of their lost parents.

This particular clip was of Clive snuggled in between Chelsea and his then pregnant wife, as he harmoniously sings, much to the glee of the young Chelsea Forsham.

As I am drawn into the video, I can't help but think back to what I had said earlier, about wanting the Clive I knew, the Clive in the videos to be the Clive the world knew, because that Clive was remarkable.