Did these programmers never allow for people like her aunt, who believed all that shit without question? Or did they depend on them? What came first; the TV or the viewer? Did the people really have a chance against those boffins at TV stations around the world? That, Gabby realised, remained to be seen.

Even her granddad Jack had to acknowledge that Celeste wasn’t right these days, and seemed to be becoming more and more entrenched in her TV world by the minute. She talked about Trevor McDonald as if he was an old friend, and she argued that Michelle Collins was not a bad person, she was just Cindy Beale.

Now that she rarely got out of bed, the smell was not good. She was not even forty years old but she looked sixty at least.

As she went into her aunt’s bedroom, Gabby wrinkled her nose at the odour; it was sweet, but overpoweringly so. Gabby knew it was the Parma Violets her aunt sucked all day long, but it still made her want to heave.

‘Fancy a take-away, Auntie Cel? You name it, I’ll eat it!’ This was getting boring; she did the same thing every night now, and each time she got the same answer.

‘Nothing for me, sweetie. How’re you and junior doing?’

Gabby sat on the edge of her aunt’s bed and she said sadly, ‘We’re doing fine. And you?’

Celeste looked into her niece’s eyes and saw the beauty in her face; it was the same innocent beauty her mother had possessed, except with Cynthia, it had masked her true nature. ‘I nearly had a baby once, but I lost it. I lost a few actually. I thought it was terrible at the time, but now, well, how lucky was I, eh? I never had to tell them the truth about their father, never had to lie to them either.’ She coughed gently before saying earnestly, ‘I’m dying, Gabs, I have cancer of the uterus. I told the doc not to tell your nana. You know how she flaps about everything. But I’m telling you in case I don’t see this little one born. No, don’t be sad, I want to go. What kind of life is this for anyone, eh? But I want you to know I will miss you, and I loved you like you were me own.’

Gabby looked down into her aunt’s face which still held the vestiges of her former prettiness and, choking down a sob, she held her to her breast as if she was the mother and her aunt was the child.

‘I’ll miss you, Auntie Celeste.’