I winced as I took off my T-shirt. I leant close to the mirror, angling myself so I could see my back, then I gingerly picked at the edge of the plaster with my fingernail. Each flick pulled at the skin and sent a pain firing down from my shoulder to the tips of my fingers. I squeezed my eyes shut, took hold of one edge and yanked sharply to rip it off. My head swam with the agony and I grabbed at the sink to steady myself.

What was revealed was horrific. The skin around the tattoo was a scarlet balloon, tight and shining. The dark lines of Indian ink were crusted bubbles of yellow which oozed in places. The smell was like off milk, and when I pressed my finger to the edge of the sore a globule of creamy pus seeped out.

I took the surgical spirit from the medicine cabinet and tipped it onto a ball of cotton wool then carefully dabbed at the blood and crud that had hardened in places. It was too sore to clean all the gunk off, so instead I decided it would be best to slather it with Savlon and re-cover it. The lint in the centre of the plaster was soaked with yellow and black so I decided it couldn’t go back on my skin. The box of plasters had none of the huge ones left, so I cut a section of a fabric one big enough to cover the tattoo – albeit with some of the adhesive part touching the sore – and positioned it over the cross. I gasped at the stab of pain as I pushed the plaster into place then exhaled with relief that I’d seen to it. Afterwards, I buttoned up my shirt then splashed my face with water.

‘All yours,’ I said to Granfer, as I came out of the bathroom.

‘Thanks, love.’ Granfer wheezed heavily and I noticed how yellow and dry his skin was today. ‘Takes… time to pretty myself up in the… morning. And…’ He smiled at me, revealing his brown-stained teeth. ‘Got to keep… these boys pearly. You up to much… today?’

I shook my head. ‘Not today. I don’t feel great. I got back really late from the party so I didn’t get much sleep. Is Mum here?’

He shook his head. ‘At the white house. Said she’d be back around two.’

‘Really?’ My heart missed a beat. Why hadn’t she told me she was going? Surely she should have mentioned it. I looked at my watch. It was just before eleven.

‘Cleaning… after the… party. Was it fun?’

I recalled the humiliation and hurt as Eleanor told me I was there to unpack the shopping and peel eggs, then the alarm which gave way to quickening thrill when her friend had told the room he thought me desirable. My cheeks flushed red and I nodded.