Aunty Nic had scripts to be filled so Will ducked into the hospital pharmacy while Lena helped her out to the street to wait for the Uber. He asked the pharmacist if she could fill the repeats as well but she barely bothered to say no, just repeated the doctor’s instructions for Nic’s medication regime. He thanked her, bought some more piss-weak painkillers for himself (all on Aunty Nic’s Mastercard, which Lena had handed over like it was her own), took a double dose right there in the useless fucking emporium of public health.

When he got to the car, Lena was in the front seat next to the driver, leaving Will to sit beside Aunty Nic in the back.

‘You all right there?’ he asked, because she sat like she was balancing her tailbone on a tightrope.

‘I’m good, but listen, there’s something I’ve been worried about. Lena doesn’t know this, but …’

Lena’s head whipped around. ‘What don’t I know?’ Like a meerkat she was, eyes bulging, hyper alert. Meerkat or ice addict.

Aunty Nic half raised her right arm. She might have meant to reach out and touch Lena’s shoulder or to wave off the question, but the actual gesture she managed was a pointless flapping. Title of my autobiography, Will thought.

‘You know a lot about animals, right?’

She must have been high still. What he wouldn’t do right now to get dosed with whatever they’d given her.

‘Um, not really.’

‘You’ve been living in the country! All the farms and that. You must know something about animals.’

‘Yeah, nah, I was in town. Not really any animals. Unless you count pets, I s’pose.’

‘What are you worrying about animals for?’ Lena asked, but Aunty Nic didn’t take any notice. She kept her glassy-eyed focus on Will.

‘It’s just I have these cats and—’

‘Nic! You don’t have any cats! What are you—’

‘Let me talk to my nephew, please, Lena. Will, listen, I have these cats. They visit me every morning for their breakfast. I don’t know where they get their other meals from, but breakfast is always at my place.’

‘Nic!’ Lena made eye contact with Will, pulled a drunk face like they used to behind Mum’s back when she had more than one glass of wine.

‘Now, I’m not worried they’ve starved. They’re scrappy little street fighters, you know. They’ll have survived all right without me, I know that. But—I know this is silly—but … have they forgotten me, do you think? When I take out their food tomorrow morning, will they even come for it? Do they forget so quickly, cats?’

Lena was laughing silently, as was the driver. Both of their faces turning red under the pressure.

‘Nah, cats have great memories,’ Will said. ‘Like elephants.’

‘Really? That good?’