The room, large but plain, had a cornice which disappeared into a modern partition that cut what was once grand into a half-cocked idea of practical comfort. In the lottery of room divisions, Enid’s had won the fireplace. Around it were two armchairs and a coffee table, and from her bed their emptiness felt like a warning. She lay on her back, as if she were dead, and stared at the ceiling, her arms crossed over her chest. She hadn’t spent twenty-five years designing a perfect explanation for her life only to have it shot down in one surprise attack. It wasn’t on. She wasn’t prepared for it.

She eased off her shoes and flexed her toes. Three on each foot responded. The others, fused in a united dispassionate nod, had given up on independence years ago – they didn’t care to join in, they made no effort. She twisted each ankle. They were bony, like misshapen sticks. It was unacceptable. Who’d stolen her life? That’s what she wanted to know. It was hers that needed answers. She’d given up her sons’ lives long ago. She’d lost them both. If a man insisted on calling himself such, the correct course would be to write. Why hadn’t he written? He’d had decades to compose a note that need only say, Mother—.

Her ankle joints creaked and popped. She wanted to break them. Snap, they’d go. Then she wouldn’t be able to walk. They’d have to call for an ambulance, despite themselves and their stupid rules. For fifty years she’d lived by them. Fifty years of Mary Baker Eddy and Christian bloody Science. No medicine, ill health a result of a sin that can only be prayed away. Try praying this away, she thought, and then shut her mind. If she broke her ankles they’d have to send her to hospital because she’d be screaming.

She bent one knee and then the other. Agony. That was the word for them. They failed her with bitterness and revenge. What had she done to deserve this? She’d asked them only to perform the duty for which they were made. She hadn’t tortured them or pushed them beyond reasonable endurance. Bend and straighten. Support her weight. Was that too much to ask? Yet they swelled and tore, they ground against the bone, they gave in sudden, jerking shatters that left her frightened of stairs.

Her eyes wept without emotion – they watered regardless of her mood. She reached for a tissue from the box on her bedside table.