Mum was clearly not all right. She was breathing, just, but when I rolled her into the recovery position it felt like manoeuvring a bag of sand. I couldn’t see anything to suggest she was injured, but while Joan squeaked her answers to the emergency operator, I didn’t feel a twitch or hear the tiniest murmur to give me hope that this was anything but deadly serious.

‘Come on, Leanne, stay with us,’ I muttered, leaning close as I wiped the hair off her clammy forehead and straightened her T-shirt, my fear ramping up as I felt the bones jutting through her scant flesh.

From what I had managed to take in of Joan’s conversation, Leanne had come home early from work because she’d not been well. I knew how bad she must have felt to abandon a shift.

The woman on the end of the phone asked Joan if her mum was on any medication.

‘Just headache tablets.’ Joan looked at me for reassurance. I scanned the room but found no evidence of anything but a life drowning in wretched chaos.

I’d been twenty-one, the first time I spent the night huddled in a plastic hospital chair, waiting to hear what had happened to my mother. Aunty Irene had sat beside me, holding my hand and passing me tissues and Steph had messaged me faithfully throughout those endless, anxious hours.

I now sat here with another girl waiting to be told whether her life was about to drastically change forever. Ramrod straight, as the clock on the wall crept its way towards morning, Joan sat in silence, her face a stoic mask.

She looked so much like her mother I could have cried – only resisting because I was supposed to be here supporting Joan, rather than falling apart.

The hospital staff had taken me to one side and asked if there was any other family we should call. Did I know what Leanne’s wishes might be regarding her daughter, should she need someone to take care of her? Was I aware of any ill health, any past issues that might be useful for the doctors to know about?

Every question was like another spike jamming between my ribs.

I was so tired, so worried that it was impossible to think, to consider what the right answer should be.

That’s not quite true – I knew one answer, without a shadow of a doubt. ‘I’m Joan’s childminder. I take care of her while Leanne’s at work. Most days after school and on Saturdays. There’s no one else, as far as I know, but I’ll look after her. I have a spare room, she knows me, she knows my house, her dog lives at my house. We even share a garden! You can’t send her to strangers; I know Leanne wouldn’t want that.’