I look up at her and she gives me a half smile. “Come on, it’s not such a surprise, really. You think I don’t know what my own house is like? I know that’s not normal. Granted, I’d perhaps been kidding myself it’s not as bad as all that”—she waves at the pages with the rating pictures on them—“but I know it’s got out of control.” She shifts in her seat. “Why do you think I spend so much time out here?”

I shrug. “I just thought you were nosy.” She lets out a loud snort, making Splints jump; I swallow a laugh and keep my face serious. “Or a perv or something.”

I can see the dark fillings in her teeth as she throws her head back; her laugh scares the pigeons off the footpath. I grin. The laughter rolls into a crackling, bubbling cough. Her eyes are wet and her face’s going from pink to red. I’m not sure if she’s laughing, coughing or crying. My grin’s gone. I’m a bit worried she might die. I grab a cup out of the chest and fill it from the tap. She takes it from me, sucking wheezy breaths in through her mouth and breathing out bubbly coughs, and, despite my fear, I realize I’ve never seen her eyes twinkle like that before. And I don’t think it’s entirely due to choking. She grabs the cup, spilling a fair bit, but eventually manages a few slow gulps. I sit down again.

She wipes her eyes. “You’re all right, kiddo.”

“It’s Rae,” I remind her.

She pulls a face. “I know that. I was being nice. It’s a nickname. A term of endearment.”

“Oh. Okay.” I wonder if I should reciprocate. What do you say to an old lady who likes to refer to you as a baby goat?

“Thanks. Goat-o.”

DAY 38

TUESDAY