Chloe is in bed in Low Drove when her mobile rings, a rare moment when the signal is strong. It’s one of the carers from Park House. Chloe lowers her voice to a whisper to speak to her and keeps an eye on her bedroom door. The carer is calling to see if Chloe has any special plans for Sunday. It takes Chloe a moment to register what she is talking about, then she sits up quickly and slaps her hand to her head. It’s Nan’s birthday tomorrow. What with everything that has been happening recently, Chloe has forgotten.

‘No, I, er . . . just the usual really,’ Chloe tells her, biting down hard on her lip.

The carer says they can bake a cake and Chloe promises she’ll be there in the morning.

‘We’ll have your grandma ready,’ she says.

As Chloe hangs up she thinks, ready for what? She doesn’t like this panicky feeling. Her legs tangle in the duvet as she tries to get up. She starts making her bed. It almost feels as if the carer rang just to catch her out. Suddenly, she stops still. There it is again. Through the bedroom floor, the clatter of pans drifts up. And again. Then raised voices.

Chloe tiptoes quickly to the bedroom door. She opens it expertly, without a sound – something she has practised here – and she leans her head against the cool door frame. There’s another clatter, more raised voices. Maureen and Patrick. From the sounds she pictures them: Maureen cleaning up after breakfast, Patrick sitting at the table – a rattle of his newspaper confirms it. Then a fist goes down on the kitchen table.

‘Oh Maureen, this is ridiculous, will you get a hold of yourself?’

‘Why? Why is it so ridiculous? What if I’m right?’

‘But you’re not, you’re . . . you’re . . .’

‘I’m what, Patrick? Say it?’

‘OK then, you’re crazy, that’s what you are.’ She hears the scrape of a chair on the lino. ‘You’re sick. Sick in the head. I mean, to even think . . .’

Chloe hears footsteps in the hall. She quickly pushes the door closed, the thickness of it muffling the rest of the argument. She gets down on her floor, pressing her ear to the boards, but it’s no clearer. Then the thud of feet on the stairs starts reverberating under her head. She jumps up, stares at the door as if someone might just burst right through it. But it’s Maureen and Patrick’s bedroom door across the landing that slams shut. Then everything is still. Except Chloe’s mind – that’s whirring. What has she just overheard?