‘Good… Lovely…’ I’m not sure what response she’s actually after.

‘They thought she was going to have to move into sheltered accommodation, for help and support and that, but not now! Isn’t that brilliant!’

I’m in agreement that this is brilliant, but not sure what it really means to me. Or her. Or Susan, laid up in that hospital bed all on her own.

‘The hospital bed swamped her you know, Mum. She looked tiny.’ I’ve said it out loud before I realise.

‘She’s not your responsibility, love.’

‘No, but—’

‘But nothing, love. Don’t get drawn in. You’ve enough to think about with work and life and stuff…’ She pauses. ‘We both have.’

‘They don’t think her accident was an accident,’ I say, looking into my cup at the bubbles in my tea.

‘Oh. I see,’ says Mum, putting her cup down. We sit silently for a second. I know she’s thinking the same as me. Anything like this takes you straight back to the moment you find the person you love… like that. ‘You know you can’t rescue people, Rhys. Don’t you?’ Her voice is small, wrapped in hurt. I nod, because it’s easier that way. We’ve always had to agree to differ on this point. ‘She isn’t yours to save any more than our David was,’ she adds. I rub my eyes, refusing to give in to how I feel.

She picks up a cushion, smoothing down the feathers and stretching out the corners. ‘You alright, Mum?’ I ask. I can always tell when she’s got more to say; she seems to perch on the end of her words. Usually a gentle nudge does the trick. ‘What’s up?’

‘Nothing’s up. I just… We all have our own stuff going on.’

‘Like what?’ I ask, studying her face as she reaches for another cushion. ‘I don’t know, Rhys, just stuff, gosh, stuff.’ There’s a pause. A stilt in our chat. ‘I’m more than the sum total of mother and divorced housewife, you know!’

‘Course you are, I know that, Mum.’ I look around the lounge, the pictures of flowers and words of wisdom on the walls. The picture of me and our David. ‘I wondered if I should move back in, you know.’ She looks up sharply. ‘Just for a bit maybe, I feel like… I need you. And maybe you need me?’ I ask, hopefully.

‘You don’t need me, love. You need life. And besides, I’m fine. There’s plenty around to keep an eye on me.’

‘Like who?’ I say, incredulous. ‘We both know them lot down the bingo would sell their mothers given half a chance.’

Mum checks her watch, and glances towards the front door. ‘I have… people who care,’ she says. She gets up and moves a few pots about on the mantelpiece. ‘I’ve got stuff to do, love. Get yourself off. We can talk about this another time. Let’s not rush into anything. And don’t go worrying about this Susan woman either. Like I say, not your responsibility. Here’s your keys. Call me tomorrow, okay?’