‘Yeah, actually that’s probably a good idea.’ She took hold of the vodka bottle and tilted it until the liquid lapped at the opening, then she dipped the tip of the needle into it.

She stood and went over to the tape machine and pressed play.

‘But your mother—’

‘God, don’t worry about her. She doesn’t really care. That was her playing at being la maman. You know? Doing the whole routine. Don’t be late. Turn that racket down. Make sure you brush your teeth before bed,’ she mimicked. ‘It’s an act. She doesn’t give a shit. She’ll swallow a couple of yellows and a skinful of whisky in a minute and be out for the count.’

‘What’s a yellow?’

‘Benzodiazepine. Benzos. To stop her going hyper and help her sleep and stuff. The doctor gives them to her like sweeties. Private GPs make the best drug dealers. Right,’ she said brightly. ‘Let’s ink. A cross like mine, yes?’

I nodded and turned my back to her, then pulled my hair to one side and allowed my head to fall forward. When Edie rested her hand on my back, Eleanor’s intrusion was quickly forgotten. I gasped at the pain of the first prick of the needle and Edie laughed. She stroked her hand over my back. Her touch was electric. I imagined her hand encircling my neck, running over my shoulder, and along my collarbone. The needle pressed into me again and interrupted my thoughts.

With each prick a shiver ran through me. As the needle broke my skin white heat radiated outwards. I bit down on my lip as the pain grew more intense. I tried to distract myself by thinking of Dad. I wondered what he’d thought of tattoos. Would he have been angry like Mum would undoubtedly be or admired my rebellion? Losing him when I was young meant I didn’t have all the information. I was limited to memories and second-hand observations which came from Mum and Granfer. The rest, the between bits, I was forced to make up. He was like a jigsaw with some of the pieces missing and if I wanted the whole picture I had to fill in the gaps myself. As Edie leant over to dip the needle into the ink, I decided he’d have liked the tattoo. This was, after all, the man who broke into a house to swim in a pool which wasn’t his.

After what must have been a thousand pinpricks and when the pain was becoming intolerable, she finally sat back on her haunches. ‘There. All done.’