‘Here we go.’ Mum set a tray down on the coffee table, a plate piled with egg sandwiches. The smell made my stomach roll. Out of politeness rather than hunger, I picked one up and nibbled at the crust but I couldn’t eat it. My stomach was filled with an anxious sick feeling every time I thought about Adam, which was pretty much all of the time.

‘I’m not hungry.’ I stood. ‘I’ll go and change your sheets, Nan.’

‘You’re a good girl, Anna. I hope Adam realizes how lucky he is.’

I turned away quickly before she could read me. Adam probably felt many things but was lucky one of them? I just didn’t know.

‘Shall we pick up a takeaway on the way home?’ It was almost six by the time we left Nan’s; she was eating with Mrs Percival, the widow from next door. I wasn’t really hungry but we still had to eat. Crispy battered cod and chips doused with salt and vinegar might bring a smidgeon of comfort.

‘Let’s not think about food yet,’ Mum said.

‘But it’s nearly dinner—’

‘I said let’s wait and see.’

It wasn’t like Mum to snap but I couldn’t imagine how she felt seeing my nan slowly begin to slip away from her, knowing that from here on in, it would only get worse. I glanced at her profile as she drove. Her jaw set. Fingers gripping the wheel tightly.

‘Nan was good today, don’t you think?’ There hasn’t yet been a time that she hasn’t known me or Mum. Sometimes it was hard to believe there was anything wrong with her.

‘She was. I often think the doctor’s got it wrong. We all get forgetful, don’t we? Walk into a room to find we’ve no idea what we went in there for. Am I kidding myself, Anna? She seems fine, doesn’t she? Mostly.’ Her question drips with a desperation that makes my heart hurt.

‘She does, but if there comes a time she isn’t… fine… then we’ll be there for her. You and me.’

‘I do the best I can for both of you.’ Mum’s voice was quiet.

‘I know.’

‘Even if it might not seem that way. I do what I think is right.’

‘Mum. Everything you do is right. Please try not to worry.’ There had been a shift in our relationship ever since we lost Dad. Often I was the one to offer reassurances. Advice. I was the daughter, the parent, the friend, the adult and the child. Everything.

We pulled up outside the house. I started to climb out of the car.

‘Wait.’ Mum gripped my arm. ‘I’ve left my mobile at Nan’s.’