‘I’m grand, I’m just worrying about yar sister too. Did ya manage ta talk ta her?’

‘Yeah … just Snapchat … said …’ She baulked.

‘What she say? Tell me out.’ Margaret Rose was cross.

‘She’s swearing she won’na come back,’ Michaela said, turning quickly to avoid her mother’s hurt, then went to the loo to compose herself, but it was pointless and when Michaela Sherlock returned from the toilet she was still crying uncontrollably.

‘Why is she crying? Stop her, we need to stop her crying,’ said Jane, jumping off her mattress towards them.

‘So, tell me about Nick … she’s ran off and left Jim. Right? She with yar father?’ Margaret Rose asked.

Your father. Endgame talk.

‘Yeah.’

‘How is she?’

‘Angry –’ she paused, hesitant – ‘with you.’

‘What? Angry with me, why? What’s she angry with me far? Shir, I did’na go off with Bernie, why’s she angry wit me? Fuck this …’

Michaela lifted her shoulders and dropped them. ‘Dunno. Just is.’

‘Christ, she was so silly ta lave Manchester, she could of bled da death … She was’na fit ta be taking off like that. Will she ever learn? Well, did she say she got a fright or what? Jim’s worried sick. There’s no talking ta her.’

‘Shir, why ya arsking me if Jim’s telling ya everything?’

Michaela was hurt she’d been left out of the loop.

Jane was getting very agitated. ‘No one can learn with you galloping off like this. You’ll need to step out of this classroom at once,’ she shouted. Michaela ignored her. ‘Well now, aren’t you an insolent young madam. You will step outside this door at once. You’re too loud … far too loud.’ She danced over to Michaela and stood in front of her, wagging her finger, then raised her arm. ‘Is that what you are? A big-mouthed fishwife?’

Margaret Rose looked like she’d been stung by a racer wasp. She pursed her lips and stood out of bed. ‘Now just hold on wan minute, Jane.’ Insanity and old age would be no excuse for insulting her anguished daughter.

Jane grabbed Margaret Rose hard in a chest lock beside her nightstand. Margaret Rose was gentle, tried to coax Jane and move her backwards, unhook herself, but Jane held her hard and Margaret Rose was now doubled over. Jane reached out with her right hand and picked up the hairdryer, pretending first to shoot her in the head, mockingly, but then she waved it backwards, up and high, and whacked it hard and fast off the corner of Margaret Rose’s temple and again, bangbangbang, on the eye socket. Wallop. And again. Wallop. Margaret Rose toppled sideways, landing over on her bed.

Claire’s feet remained motionless behind the curtain.

‘What the fuck?’ Alex said, as he returned onto the Ward, just as I was getting out of bed, followed fast by two young girls in violet tops and hairnets from the kitchen. He leaned over Margaret Rose, calling out to her. More buzzers.