Jane cried to herself, being pulled back into her own bed by the kitchen girls and dragging her feet along the floors. When she was safely back in the bed, she drew the white sheet up under her chin, and whispered away to herself. ‘Ann should never have come back … I won’t stop … Stop yourself … Why are you all leaving me here? They’re all at me …’

Michaela put a white facecloth under the running tap at the small sink, wrung it and gently placed it on her mother’s forehead, then turned off her radio. Michaela then rang Niquita, hysterical. As Niquita asked questions, Michaela in turn relayed them to the cleaners, while covering the mouthpiece of the phone. The cleaners were having difficulty understanding the requests, and unable to give any solace or advice to the young woman. ‘Look, they’re not telling me nathing, these wans, all I knows is Mam’s rall bad … Just five minutes ago … She was calling me names … I canny remember … Why ya arsking so many questions? Fuck, Nick, I dunno …’ Michaela had a hand on her hip as she stood over and looked down at her mam. ‘And she knows yar with dad … What ja mean, did I tell her? Jim did, yar bodyguard told her … Ah, it’s all a mess. What are ya doing ta her? Ya rally nade ta come back now … Ah here, look, I’m gonna send ya a Snapchat … Ya might believe me den … And shir …’

Michaela reached out her long thin arm and took a selfie with Margaret Rose passed out behind her. The white facecloth was dramatic, and Margaret Rose was as pale as the sheet that surrounded her. Michaela cursed the flash for working and then cursed it for not working and on the last click she pulled a duck face.

‘Hello. Niquita? Ya. There. Look at that … Ya get it? Did ya see her?’

‘Nick?’

Pause.

‘Ja knows what, do what ya like.’

Margaret Rose finally had the facial trauma she required so badly. No more novocaine.

Michaela put a flashy neon hairband in her mother’s hair and some glittery lip balm on her lips.

‘Christ almighty,’ Alex said, ‘look at that bang, jeez.’ A poppy bruise was growing on her temple.

‘I need to get out of here, Alex,’ I said, grabbing him desperately. ‘You have to get me out, I can’t, I just can’t, you can’t make me, and that girl needs to leave too, someone needs to get her out, this place isn’t …’

‘It’s just shock.’ He tried to soothe me. But it was useless.

I didn’t tell him about the mix-tape.

Chapter 18

‘You sure you OK?’ Michal asked Molly as they sponged down Margaret Rose. ‘You look so so tired.’

‘Just wrecked darl. Too many shifts.’

Margaret Rose was stirring a little. Her face had fallen, but the machines said everything was perfectly fine. It was probably shock and she was sleeping off her pain relief.