She hated it when they called her love. So personal. She opened her eyes and saw Mandy.

“We should turn this thing off,” said Mandy, switching off the television. “Lunch is ready.”

Lunch. Another meal. She looked at her watch. Eleven-thirty – always too early. She moved her stiff limbs, willing them to take her weight, respond, get her up. Herded in at eleven-thirty to be sure to be seated by twelve. Who ate at midday? Servants, that’s who. Servants who had no choice, and old people too used to being fed.

She’d been dreaming, or perhaps it had been the television. Something about trains. Mandy helped her up and they joined the slow surge toward the dining room: men humped in cardigans, women shuffling in collapsed slippers. Was she really like that too, locked in pretence of something, oblivious to the carnage, still smiling and talking about beef? The dining room was a collection of tables seating four and a floor covered in blue linoleum.

“Will you sit with Bridget?” said Mandy. Bridget never spoke. Enid liked her enormously. All the Franks and Georges and Mollys and Janes had given up on saving her a seat at their tables. Mandy held her chair for her as she sat down. “You’ll be glad to know we got through, though I’ve a mind to say I’m not pleased. Your Finetta wasn’t best pleased either. What a shame.”

“To whom?”

“Your son. Him coming all this way—”

“How do you know how far he’s come?”

“And your Finetta—”

“My Finetta should learn to watch her tongue.” She was sure she heard the word ungrateful as Mandy walked away.

Ungrateful my hat, thought Enid. She hadn’t changed her mind in the least. That’s right, she’d been dreaming; dreaming of the train that had taken her away from Cherry Trees, away from Douglas, from Fagus, from Finetta and Ian. He had no right to come marching back in now. So they’d got through. Good.

Bridget lifted orange squash to her lips and spilled it down her front. Disgusting, thought Enid – but if they will give us plastic cups that crumple at the slightest touch it was hardly Bridget’s fault. The nurses were handing round plates and tucking paper napkins into soiled collars. Teeth were being put in. Enid waited.