Her mother dashed from the room and Adele guessed that she was finding it difficult being with her. While Adele waited for her to return, she looked around. Things hadn’t changed much with the exception of the large television, which sat in the corner of the room. It was ostentatious and looked out of place.

Aside from that, the furniture was still the same, and the cracked mirror still hung on the wall. A mangy tabby cat pawed at her legs then jumped on her knee. She quickly put it down on the floor. It purred and went to join the ginger cat on the rug.

Shirley stepped back into the room, mug in hand, and sat across from Adele.

‘How are you?’ Adele asked perfunctorily.

‘Not too bad, y’know,’ said Shirley, failing to meet Adele’s eyes. The tabby cat jumped on her knee and she stroked it affectionately. ‘It’s not easy being on yer own,’ she said, and Adele felt a pang of guilt. ‘But Tabby and Ginger keep me company, and the neighbours are good.’

The tabby cat purred on hearing its name and Shirley gave it her full attention. ‘Yes, you do, don’t you?’ she said, rubbing its stomach. ‘You little beauty.’ Ginger purred and joined Tabby on her knee. ‘Yes, you too.’ She then laughed falsely. ‘Oh, don’t go getting jealous now, Ginger. You know I love you just as much.’

Adele could feel her eyes cloud with tears as she watched the sad scene. Her mother was talking to the cats almost as though they were human. Is this what she had been reduced to?

She took a deep breath and blinked away her tears before addressing her mother.

‘Mam, I just want you to know how sorry I am for everything,’ she said. ‘I would have rung you but I didn’t know how you’d be.’

‘I know,’ said Shirley, looking over at her momentarily before switching her focus back to her beloved cats. ‘Well, you’re here now.’

It was obvious to Adele that her mother wasn’t going to allow an emotional reunion. Although she had let Adele come inside, her defences were still up. Patching up their fragile relationship was going to be a long-drawn-out process.

But Adele was willing to try. Her mother might have rejected her when she killed her father in self-defence, after he had put them all through years of torment. But, at the end of the day, she was still her mother.

‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ asked Adele.

‘No, I’m OK. I manage alright,’ said her mother but, looking around the room, Adele was sure that her mother didn’t manage very well at all. The furniture was covered in dust, the sofa full of cat hair and the sideboard stacked high with old newspapers, clothing, handbags and other items. Two mugs stained with tea, sat on the coffee table.