Jane began to fuss about Hegs in his absence.

‘Try not to be worrying about it all, Jane, he’ll be grand,’ I said, turning over to face her.

I tried to distract her like I would do with my own children, half-heartedly waving my phone in her face, as though she could play Tetris or go on YouTube and watch some twats play video games.

She looked puzzled.

‘Ah. Now. Should I use your phone, my dear?’ Jane asked me. ‘But who would I call?’

It hadn’t been my intention to mither her or encourage a call.

‘You have the most lovely skin, is it real? Is it really your skin? It’s lovely,’ she said, inquisitively perching at the side of my bed.

‘Thanks, yes, it’s my skin …’ I said as she shimmied along on the bed. I moved my legs to one side. She rubbed down the bed sheet over and over, and then, patted my thigh.

It was all the permission she needed.

‘You know, I think I’ll ring my daughter. Why not? What d’you think?’ she went on, still patting me. ‘I need her to bring in my Sunday clothes and to pluck these buggers off my chin.’ She pulled at some wisps of hair. ‘Would you mind?’ she said.

‘No, Jane, it’s not the weekend, you don’t need your Sunday clothes, not today. Today is Tuesday.’

She was eyeing the phone on the bed and then picked it up with her two tiny hands, and held it like you might do to wring out a facecloth.

‘One always needs one’s Sunday clothes, especially, you see, in a nice place like this. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, can I have it?’

I stared at her kitten whiskers. ‘Oh yes, sure, of course. Yes, here, have it, of course. Here. Ring away.’

‘No cord?’ she said. ‘Ah.’ Her eyes were a bright turquoise like the glass jars and baubles you find in wicker baskets outside knick-knack shops on a Spanish promenade. And they had a most peculiar line of mustard yellow running vertical through both irises. Jane had strong oily black eyelashes. The skin on her face was etched with spidery lines especially on her cheeks and round her nose. ‘Well now, isn’t this just lovely?’ she smiled, still holding the phone. ‘And while I have you here, madam, I don’t suppose you’d have a brassiere?’

‘What?’ I said, holding her stare for too long, ‘A bra? Really?’

‘Yes, you see I just can’t bear it in here without a bra on my back, and for the life of me, I can’t seem to place my hand on mine,’ said Jane, shouting loudly now to aid my comprehension. ‘I think I left it somewhere along the long way here, while they were bringing me here, and what with all the scans and taxis and needles and bars, and, leave it there to all the restaurants they took us to, it’s marvellous really, all the different foods, but it’s been a very busy trip altogether now, and for the life of me, I can’t, well, I can’t seem to …’ She looked downwards, grabbing her breasts between her hands. ‘I just haven’t a bit of comfort, with these two sitting down on me all day.’ She squeezed them. ‘And I mean if I needed to take a swim in the sea later, well, I know it’s all the rage to go in without a top on –’ she threw her head back laughing, then stopped most abruptly – ‘well, to be honest, I wouldn’t really be keen to swim without one. But I will if I have to – skinny dip.’