I groaned.

‘Look. I knows things can be very tough. And the past never laves us in much peace. I rally do know. Look, life is life. And while ya have it, ya canny be messing with it. It’s not a game.’

She hugged me tight and I grabbed her, desperate.

*

Alex returned later that evening, wearing a denim shirt and black jacket, carrying a plastic bag of takeout and two bottles of Tempranillo. Lamb.

‘Supper.’ And he smiled widely.

I pushed off the bedclothes.

‘Anything exciting since I left?’

‘Don’t ask …’ I lifted my legs out and felt for the tiled floor.

‘Shit, what’re you doing?’ Alex said.

‘Ah, here, I can’t go to a restaurant without doing myself up a little. I’m showering.’

‘No need, it’s just me, and this …’ he pleaded, lifting up the pink-and-blue striped plastic bag and looking about him. The bottles of wine were rolling along on the bed.

‘Please,’ I said, ‘please leave it, just let me.’ I smiled again, at him. ‘But you can help. Grab the black skinny Levi’s in here –’ I motioned to under the bed. ‘There’s a white shirt too, the one with the triangle diamonds on the front.’

Nothing was going to upset my focused mood. I would have a meal. Nicely dressed.

‘But the food will go cold …’

‘We can microwave it at the Nurses’ Station.’

‘’K. Wear this,’ he said, lifting a pretty turquoise bra from the bag and hanging it on his wrist. I had forgotten I had it. I felt a surge of guilt for Jane and the Wonderbra. A dark red ribbon weaved through the cups and the straps had a muted cream trim.

‘Oh!’ I said.

Alex handed me his suit jacket. ‘This any good to you?’

‘Great,’ I said, ‘I can be like Madonna or Diane Keaton in that movie, what was that movie?’

‘Manhattan?’

‘No, not that one, the other one …’

‘Annie Hall?’

‘Yes, her. Tonight … Matthew Kelly … I will be Annie Hall … mwah … mwah.’

I would prove to Alex I could make it home. I’d eat all the food, whatever it was, saag and almonds and something with garlic, a garlic and coriander naan maybe.

‘You can dry my hair after,’ I said, as he linked me to the loo.

‘I’m not so sure this is a good idea. Please, just … just let me come in.’

But I eventually locked the door behind me, locking him out.

Alone.

I placed the toilet bag and the bundle of clothes on a large towel on the ground. I laid out a razor, purple shampoo, and conditioner. I turned on the shower and I sat down on the white-yellowed plastic seat, the long red cord waved back and forth, it made me feel safe and terrified. I wondered how many others had sat on the chair, taken a shower, died. At first it made me fainty, the thought of bare arses before me, and thinking of how their thigh skin caught in the dodgy edge, as the water got hotter and hotter. I closed my eyes and drank from the faucet. I let it run on my hair and down over my breasts.