‘Oh, my God!’ She went quickly to the sink and turned on the tap. With her forearm pressed against her nostrils, she watched as the sour, lumpy liquid glugged down the plughole. Looking at the now empty carton she noted the use-by date was four days ago.

‘Mum, your milk is off!’ Anna shouted. She checked the fridge for fresh milk, but there was none. There wasn’t much of anything. She slammed the fridge door. No coffee to bring her to life first thing was tantamount to hell and she’d never make it through the day. The next hour even. Especially here.

‘Oh, sorry, love.’ Muriel came into the kitchen, her slippers scuffing over the lino. ‘Forgot to get a new carton.’

‘Forgot? But it’s been out of date for days – haven’t you been having cereal, or drinks?’

‘Oh, I just hadn’t got around to getting to the shop, been using the tin of Marvel I had in the cupboard for cups of tea.’

‘You’ve been using powdered milk instead of getting fresh? When did you last use Marvel? I didn’t even know they still made it.’

‘Don’t be silly, dear, of course they do.’

Anna was half-tempted to check the cupboard, see if the tin was also out of date, but was afraid she’d find that it was a decade out, not just days.

‘I’ll take you up the shop, then.’

‘Oh, you don’t need me, do you? You remember where it is, surely?’ Muriel slumped down onto the chair at the dining table.

‘You all right, Mum? You don’t look like you’ve slept.’

‘I look like this every morning. You wouldn’t know, would you?’

Anna let the comment slide; she couldn’t exactly argue otherwise.

‘Do you want to make me a list?’ Anna offered. It occurred to her that her mum might not be taking good enough care of herself – or certainly not eating well, going by her gaunt appearance. Guilt tugged at her conscience; she’d always assumed Muriel was okay living alone in Mapledon – she’d kept it together well after Anna’s father upped and left when she was just eleven. She was fit and healthy, had good friends. But Anna now wondered if that was what she’d wanted to think. It was easier to believe than the alternative. Anything to avoid coming back to this village.

‘Yes, that would be good, thank you.’ Muriel’s voice lifted; her face brightened.

‘When did you go out last?’ Anna frowned. Her mother’s reaction to her offer to go to the shop for her seemed far too enthusiastic. The doll’s head on the door was only yesterday – had other things been going on prior to that to cause her to fear leaving the house?

Muriel waved an arm dismissively. ‘Oh, I can’t remember – only a couple of days ago. Now, the notepad is in the top drawer of the dresser, love.’ Muriel pointed towards the lounge.

‘Right,’ Anna said.

While in the drawer retrieving the notepad, Anna had a rummage. She wasn’t sure what she was even looking for, but she had a niggling feeling. It was filled with old utility bills – thankfully none were red – and old letters. She picked up one of the yellowing envelopes. Black scrawling handwriting covered the front with little room left for the stamp. She squinted, trying to make out the postmark and date.