Or – and I don’t know where this thought came from – I could simply . . . go. It wasn’t as if I’d never thought about it. I’d done it a thousand times in my dreams. I could grab a few things and leave. And never come back. I remember standing stock-still, suffering all the paralysis of someone whose dream could suddenly come true.

It was Tuesday. She would be gone for hours. I could be miles away before she got back. And then what would she do? What could she do? And she was perfectly capable of looking after herself if I wasn’t there to do it for her.

‘Don’t be so silly,’ said the voice within. ‘Where would you go?’

A good point, I had to concede – Gran always said I was about as much use as boil-in-the-bag ice cream – the venom in her voice robbing the comment of any humour – but compared with staying here with a shattered seagull, starving to death seemed a very viable option. If I remained, my life would hardly be worth living. And besides, I was old enough to go. In fact, I was too old to stay. Whoever heard of anyone my age living with their granny? And she could manage on her own. It wasn’t as if she needed me. She didn’t even like me. Thoughts I never knew were inside me came suddenly bubbling to the surface.

Wimpy Jane was horrified. ‘But I have no money.’

‘There’s the housekeeping. She keeps it tucked in her pillowcase.’

Wimpy Jane nearly fainted. ‘You mean . . . steal it? She’ll go ballistic.’

‘More or less ballistic than when she sees what you’ve done to her seagull?’

Wimpy Jane folded without a fight. ‘Good point. I should go. Now.’

‘What?’

Wimpy Jane cast aside the shackles of years. ‘I’m going.’

There’s nothing like suddenly giving yourself permission to do something you haven’t dared to do nearly all your life to catapult you into a vortex of panic and indecision.

I ran to my room. Halfway there I thought I’d better clear up the mess and veered off towards the stairs for a dustpan and brush. Halfway there I suddenly thought, what are you doing? Leave it. She’ll see what’s happened and at least then you won’t have to bother with an explanatory note along the lines of:

Dear Granny,

I broke your bird and by the way I’ve hated every moment here, and you claiming my carer allowance for yourself for my board and lodging was a really mean trick so I’m running away. I’ve taken the housekeeping in lieu of non-existent wages and I can promise you’ll never see me again.

Jane.

PS The seagull head is under the chest of drawers. Don’t think you’ll be able to reach it. Hope it doesn’t start to smell. Goodbye.