Grace picks up her bag from the arm of the chair and turns to leave. Audrey allows Edward to see the nurse to the front door as she makes her way back up the stairs, back to Zoe, already mourning the three or four minutes she has lost of the precious time she has left with her little girl.

Audrey walks into the kitchen where Edward is washing up. The girls got home from school half an hour ago and she has left Jess snuggled up in bed with Zoe, reading poems aloud even though Zoe is sleeping.

Ever since Grace left this morning, Audrey has been plagued by thoughts she cannot shake from her mind, thoughts she does not want to keep to herself but is nonetheless fearful of sharing.

She studies Edward’s back as he stands at the sink. His hair is thinning on top, a depletion she is sure had not begun before the onset of Zoe’s illness. “I can’t bear to see her like this, Edward. What if Grace is right? What if it goes on for days?”

Edward turns around and offers her the kindness in his eyes. “We don’t know that it will. We just have to be there for her. You heard Grace. That’s all we can do.”

He moves to walk past her, but as he reaches for the tea towel she grabs his soapy hand. “It’s just . . . I was thinking . . . Those morphine doses are such an inexact science. No two ten-year-olds are the same. How do we know that what we’re giving Zoe is enough to ease her pain as much as we possibly can?”

Edward frowns, and Audrey is unsure whether he is failing to follow what she is saying or simply choosing not to understand.

“We know because that’s what the doctor told us to give her. I know how hard this is, but we just have to get through it, one hour at a time.”

He pulls her into his arms and she knows he means to be comforting but Audrey does not want comfort. She frees herself from his embrace, walks over to the back door and looks out onto the garden that is overgrown with weeds after months of neglect. “But days, Edward. We can’t let this go on for days, can we? She’s in so much pain, so much distress. We can’t just sit by and do nothing, can we?”

“We’re not doing nothing. We’re with her. We’re loving her. We’re letting her know she’s not alone.”

Audrey thinks of Zoe upstairs, struggling for breath, and panic knocks inside her chest. “Is that true, though? Is that really as much as we can do?”

She turns around to find Edward staring at her, unblinking. “What do you mean?”

Audrey hesitates, still unsure whether she has the courage to say the words out loud. “Morphine isn’t just for pain relief. It can do more than that . . .” Her voice trails off and she isn’t brave enough to chase it back.