The thing is, sometimes my brain just goes blank. It’s like standing in a dark room where I try to reach for words, any words, but there’s nothing there.

Amanda picks up the throw and places it over Mum’s blanket, while I position the fox cushion at the top of her bed.

‘Well then, you look much better today,’ Amanda says when we’re done, glancing in my direction. ‘School went well?’ She eyes up my snot-green uniform.

‘Yeah!’ I answer a little too enthusiastically.

She nods. ‘Anyway, these are lovely!’ she says, pointing at the blanket and cushion. She fluffs the cushion up and places it next to Mum’s head, and speaks again before I have to think up a response.

‘It’ll be really good for your mum to have familiar things around her. Home comforts.’ She smiles.

‘Yeah,’ I say again, grinning at her like a maniac.

Say something else, Saff.

But I can’t. It feels weird to be making small talk with a virtual stranger across the bed of my unconscious mother.

‘All right,’ Amanda sings, unfazed. ‘I’ll leave you to it!’ She pulls the curtains shut with finality, and I’m left alone with Mum again. The sudden silence is jarring.

I try to hold Mum’s hand, but it’s cold, like a corpse’s, and I pull back. I try again. I wrap my fingers round hers, avoiding the tube protruding from her wrist that is keeping her body nourished. I want to warm her skin. I want her to feel my touch.

I reach into my bag and pull out Mum’s hand cream. I put a little in my palms and rub them together. Then I rub it on her hands, one at a time. When I’m done I look up at Mum again. I imagine her brown eyes creasing up as she smiles, sparkling with life. I want to see them now. I want her to look at me. Even if it is one of her angry looks. Right now I’d take anything.

Open your eyes, Mum. ‘Open your eyes.’ I say it aloud without meaning to and cover my mouth with my hand, the other still clinging to hers, my grip firm, desperate. ‘Please,’ I add quietly.

She doesn’t of course, because Mum’s always been stubborn.

I notice the perfume still lingering on her skin. It wafts towards me as the heater blasts it in my direction.

I lean over to cover Mum with the flower-covered throw. The smell is overpowering now; I close my eyes and take it in. But my legs start to wobble, and I almost fall into the chair.

When I next open my eyes I’m back in front of the house again.

It’s night-time. The stars wave hello, like they’ve been expecting me.