She kissed Jenny on the cheek. ‘Try not to be too upset. We’ll all pitch in to make Ma’s last days as comfortable as possible.’

After Glad had left, Jenny went to the kitchen. There was still a nice bit of soup left, so she heated that up and took it upstairs. Before entering the room she pinned a bright smile on her face. ‘Who’s being spoilt with supper in bed, then?’

Ma watched her intently. ‘Sit me up.’ Her speech was slurred.

Jenny nipped into her own room and pinched a pillow from her bed, placed it behind Ma and hauled her to a sitting position. She fed Ma, wiping her chin as the soup trickled down from her stiff lips. All the time she chatted away brightly, telling her about the work she and Ivy had been doing today. She got little response, but at least Ma was eating.

After the last mouthful, Ma leant back on the pillows and startled Jenny with a string of swear words, slurred but nevertheless clearly audible.

‘Ma!’ she laughed, but in truth she felt like crying. It was clear that there wasn’t anything wrong with her mind, and she knew that this was going to be frustrating for Ma. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’

Ma nodded, grabbing hold of Jenny with her right hand. The left was lying useless on the blanket. ‘What’s the doc say?’

‘You’ve had a slight stroke, but you’ll be as right as ninepence in a couple of weeks.’

There was a humph of disgust. ‘Bloody liar!’

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jenny schooled her expression carefully. The last thing she was going to do was tell Ma what he’d really said. She didn’t want to admit that Ma was dying, even to herself. Doctors had been wrong before. ‘You’re going to be fine, and I’ll be with you all the time. Now, I’ll just pop downstairs and make our tea. I’ve got a few biscuits left.’

As soon as Ma finished her tea, she fell into a sound sleep. Jenny hauled a more comfortable chair up the stairs, and settled herself beside the bed for a long night’s vigil.

It wasn’t until they’d had dinner and were all settled in the sitting room that Matt told his family about Greaves and the Rolls-Royce.

‘Are you sure he’s in financial difficulty, Matt?’ John asked. ‘I haven’t heard a whisper about that.’

‘The signs were all there – blank spaces on the walls and furniture missing. But when he took Harry’s offer of cash for the car I was certain. He could have got more for the Rolls if he’d held out.’ Matt could practically hear John’s mind working. ‘He’s desperate. I’m sure of it.’