She lifted her mother out of the bed and onto a chair, then she pushed her into the bathroom.

‘Get out, I’ll do it myself.’

‘OK, great, stand up and I’ll get out.’

The woman couldn’t stand up.

‘Now can we just get on with it?’ Marjorie asked. Vera nodded and allowed her daughter to clean her down and sit her on the toilet so she could attempt to evacuate whatever was left. Marjorie wore gloves, but she still washed her hands in boiling water and used so much antibacterial soap that they became chapped. That first night she also stopped at an off-licence and bought a bottle of whiskey because wine just wouldn’t cut it. After that it felt like her mother waited till she walked through the door to schedule a dump. While she cleaned and washed the woman’s bits and bobs she’d shout at herself in her head. She’s doing it on purpose. What are you doing here anyway? She wouldn’t do it for you. She wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire. But here you are. Not just eating her shit now, cleaning it as well. You’re a fool, Marjorie. She’d talk to herself because there was nobody else, nobody but Davey. He had finally kept a promise. He Skyped her once a week.

‘I hate her, Davey.’

‘Your ma?’

‘Yeah, my ma.’

‘It’s hard to walk away, though,’ he said.

‘Suddenly she needs me. Where was she when I needed her?’

‘She wasn’t there,’ he said.

‘And now I’m supposed to be her slave?’

‘No. Set boundaries. Stick to them.’

‘She spent ten minutes today talking about Sodom and Gomorrah and how the world would soon end and we all deserved it. She’s fucking looking forward to it, Davey. She only stopped when Janet told her to put a bloody sock in it.’

‘Who’s Janet?’

‘A nosy auld one in bed three.’

‘How long are they keeping her?’

‘Until I get her house organised. I’m hiring a nurse for a while.’

‘How much will that cost?’

‘You don’t want to know. It’s all falling to shit, Davey.’

Once Marjorie had a husband, a best friend and a job she loved. Now she was single, friendless and in a job she loathed. Since the recession she spent most of her time killing people’s dreams and dismantling their lives. It was not what she signed up for. She found it increasingly hard to sleep at night and then climb out of bed in the morning. She wanted out. She needed out, but her ungrateful mother’s needs made escape impossible.

‘Is it bad that I fantasise about swapping my mother for Rabbit?’

‘Nah, the dead would love your mother, she’s right up their street,’ he said, and she chuckled.

‘Depends on the dead,’ she said.

‘Those fellas in Dante’s Seventh Circle.’