Anyway, however hard she tries she can’t escape how it felt to be there, in the Kyles’ home, how natural it had seemed. By the second cup of tea she had with Maureen, after they’d put all the washing out on the line, she’d felt so at home. Even Patrick didn’t appear to notice her there, as he walked in and out of the kitchen between races. And the thing is, she could actually see herself there, living with them, waking up in that bedroom every morning, sitting on those little white wooden chairs each night for dinner. It felt right. And suddenly this room – with its giant built-in white wardrobes – feels small somehow, like she’s outgrown it, like it’s time to move on. She thinks of the calls from Claire Sanders, the threat of selling Nan’s house to pay for her care. Perhaps this has all happened for a reason? Perhaps it is time to move on?

A dull buzzing comes from the carpet. Her phone. She leans over the side of the bed, sighing. She expects to see Hollie’s name, but instead it’s Park House. She grabs the phone.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi, Chloe, it’s Miriam Cropper here from Park House.’

‘Hi, Miriam, is everything OK?’ she stands up from the bed.

‘Well, I’m afraid your grandmother had a bit of a fall this morning.’

‘Oh my God.’ Chloe starts pacing the room.

‘She’s OK – nothing broken – but it’s given her a bit of a shock, as you’d imagine. We thought we’d better let you know.’

‘Yes, of course. I’ll come straight away.’

Chloe puts the phone down. In an instant all thoughts of Maureen and Patrick and the house at Low Drove evaporate. Even the bag on the bed looks ridiculous. How could she have thought about leaving Nan? It had taken one phone call to remind her just how vulnerable she is, just how much Chloe is needed here. She abandons her packing and leaves for Park House.

Nan is in bed when she gets there. She has an angry purple bruise that extends the length of her right forearm, a tiny cut on her cheekbone and various scratches on the backs of her hands.

‘Nan?’

She opens her eyes slowly and looks up at Chloe. But even that is an effort and she closes them again and sighs. She looks tiny, tucked up in pale green sheets. As fragile as a little bird. Chloe moves silently across the room, pulling the leather chair closer to her. She’s never anticipated a time when Nan would seem so frail. She knows in that moment she’s exactly where she should be. Nan lifts her hand to her and Chloe takes it, giving it a gentle squeeze, carefully avoiding the fine cuts.

‘Is that you, Chloe, dear?’

‘Yes, it’s me, Nan, I’m here with you.’

‘Oh good.’