‘Is Granny June not home?’ Bonnie asks me.

‘No, she’ll be home. Maybe she’s asleep.’ I bang a little harder. Still nothing.

‘Mum, Mum,’ I shout through the letter box, a strong smell of cat piss hitting me in the face. I see through the house, and that the back door is open. I can get around the side. I’m feeling really nervous now. This seemed like such a good idea. I send another text just to be sure.

Mum, Bonnie and I are at the door can you let us in.

Again it’s marked as ‘read’. She’s alive. We wait a few minutes, but she doesn’t come.

‘Come with me, Bonnie,’ I say, walking to the side of the house, and down the path that leads to the back garden. It’s a mess and very overgrown. There is a small fence that I lift Bonnie over. It takes a little negotiation with my dress – I wore a cotton version today, it has a small floral print. Soon we are both on the garden side. I lead the way, holding Bonnie’s soft little hand.

‘Is Granny June home?’ Bonnie asks, nervously.

‘Yes, don’t worry. She’s just in the garden,’ I tell her reassuringly.

When we get to the garden, I tell Bonnie to stop while I peek around the corner to see what my mother is doing. She is sitting on a chair in the middle of the garden, the sun directly on her. Seeing her gives me a fright. She’s never exactly looked well, but this is a lot to take in. She is enormously fat, spread over the chair with ounces of flesh hanging over each side. There is a cat on her lap, and one by her feet. Her phone is resting on her knee. In the three years since I’ve seen her she has at least doubled in size. She is wearing green shorts and a white t-shirt. Her hair is dirty and long, more grey than black now. Her arms are wider than my thighs. She has a thick beard.

I remind myself that her appearance is not a reason to turn away. I pick Bonnie up and approach her.

‘Mum?’ I say gently. Not wanting to startle her. ‘Hello.’

Bonnie pushes her face into my neck as if she doesn’t want to look. My mother slowly turns her head in my direction. She says nothing.

‘I brought Bonnie to see you,’ I say, Bonnie peeks out, but is too afraid to show her whole face. My mother stares at her. It’s a little menacing.

‘I don’t want you here,’ she says, softly but with undertones of aggression.

‘OK Mum, we just wanted to make sure you were alright,’ I say, gently. ‘Can Bonnie see one of the cats?’