‘All ship-shape,’ she agreed, pressing her knees tightly together as she forced a cheery smile.

‘Champion,’ he said. ‘We’ll ease you in gently, just statement taking for now. No pressure.’

Sarah nodded gratefully. Work had been sympathetic but they were desperate to fill her post. She was lucky to have her job. But was it a job she was strong enough to return to?

6

‘Christian! Christiannnnnnn!’ Elsie’s voice echoed around the three-bedroom semi. ‘What’s a gal gotta do to get some fried chicken around here?’

Elsie was lying in the living room, the only place big enough to house her reinforced bed. The air smelled of toffee-flavoured popcorn, one of many snacks within reach. There was movement on the bed as two sausages – one black, one ginger – shifted off her feet. Felix exposed his teeth in a yawn, his pink tongue curling as he exhaled the stink of burped Whiskas. He turned his yellow eyes upon her, his paws working the duvet before settling in contentment by her side.

Toni, her ginger feline, rolled onto her back and emitted a soft hungry mew. As for the rest of her brood … Gregory and Officer Dibble were out on the hunt while Boo Boo and T.C. were curled up in a basket on the floor next to her bed. Elsie wriggled her toes as pins and needles spiked. Her circulation was abysmal these days.

‘Christian?’ she called again. No answer. ‘Fine.’ She muttered beneath her breath. ‘You know what happens when you ignore your mom.’ Leaning to one side, she flicked off the switch to the BT broadband. The response was instant.

‘Ah, Mom!’ Her son’s anguished voice rang out from upstairs. ‘I was almost finished with my game!’ Throwing open his bedroom door, he came down the stairs.

Elsie floundered as she tried to launch herself into an upright position. ‘You know the rules. Don’t ignore your momma. Or do you want to lose another hour?’ The Wi-Fi was her only tug on the leash when he stepped outside the boundaries or ignored her calls for help. God knows she had no physical way of controlling him. Red-faced and sweating, she tried to raise her 400lb frame. ‘Pillow,’ she gasped, grabbing for the handle dangling from above the bed.

Sulking, Christian wedged the pillow behind her back. She caught his disapproving glare but chose to ignore it. A waft of stale sweat and dried urine rose and Elsie watched as he turned his head away. She knew what he was thinking. Sometimes, Elsie wished he’d come out and say it: that her illness was self-inflicted, and she had nobody to blame but herself. Watching her son, she felt the bitter edge of her own self-disgust.