The visitors’ lounge is now as familiar as a room of her house. During the long nights, it’s a place to go when everything presses in on her and she loses Cooper, her Cooper, the real Cooper who is in there somewhere, she knows it, safe and unbroken, floating like the yolk in an egg. She curls up on the armchair in the corner with ginger tea in a stained mug. Reads for a while. Dozes but never for long. Naps are all she needs, here at night, at home during the day. Sleep seems risky; she has to stay alert, whether she’s beside him or at home keeping things together, keeping the bills paid.

In the lounge is an elegant woman, vaguely familiar, leaning on the back of Avril’s favourite chair. She’s twisting the end of a linen scarf into knots, a handbag and a large envelope at her feet.

Avril tucks strands of wayward hair behind her ears, pushes back the aubergine fringe. Hello?

Avril? Hello, we haven’t met, but I’m an old friend of Laura’s. Wendy Casley. You might know … Laura called my mother Aunty Jessie.

Um, yes, hello. She’s seen Wendy in photographs at Laura’s. Avril steps forward and offers a hug, brief, awkward. Laura told me about your mother. I’m sorry for your loss.

Thank you. Such a long life, but, well, it was still …

Avril pats her pockets for the wad of clean tissues and offers one to Wendy.

Oh, I’m sorry, it keeps catching me … It’s been weeks, you’d think by now …

No need to apologise.

And I haven’t even asked you about Cooper.

Avril steps back, wrapping her arms around her chest. Not much change. But they were able to harvest some more donor cells this week.

She stops. The woman has no idea what she’s talking about.

Um, they take cells from the areas where he wasn’t burned and grow them into a sheet of skin, and then they stretch it out over the burn, sort of like a fishnet. Cells are sprayed over that and eventually new cells grow in between and it all joins up. Incredible, really …

Wendy Casley is making an effort but she’s obviously squeamish.

The energy dies from Avril’s voice. He’s still unconscious.

Wendy looks as sympathetic, as uncomfortable, as everyone else who has come to the hospital to offer support. I should be grateful, Avril tells herself, grateful for kindness.

You were looking for Laura? She’ll be in this morning. Soon, probably.

Yes, the nurse told me. Could you give her something for me? She picks up the bulky envelope. I’ve an early appointment next door, the Medical Centre, and then I have to leave. So I thought …

Of course.

I found it … I’ll explain to Laura. I didn’t want to post it, after all this time.