Elsie pointed to a novelty cat clock on the wall. ‘I’ve had that timekeeper for twenty years and it’s never let me down.’

Sarah’s eyes roamed to the picture of Elsie’s parents, their lined faces glaring in disapproval. Her father was instantly recognisable by the deep cleft in his chin. Her mother’s ringlet curls had been replaced by a short grey bob. A string of rosary beads hung limply over the picture frame, which was cloaked in a layer of dust. Elsie followed her gaze. ‘The Lord took them both into his bosom. Natural causes. They died just weeks apart.’

‘Sorry for your loss,’ Sarah said faintly, keen to move things on.

Elsie regarded Sarah thoughtfully. ‘I guess it’s quite the novelty for you, meeting someone like me.’

‘Someone like you?’ Sarah asked, genuinely perplexed. ‘What do you mean?’

Elsie flushed. ‘Do I have to spell it out? Someone of my size. Come on, y’all must be wondering, but you’re too polite to ask.’

‘It’s none of my business, is it?’ Sarah clicked the top of her pen. ‘It’s not my job to sit in judgement.’ She knew how it felt to be talked about. She wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

Elsie seemed taken aback. ‘At least you’ve made something of your life. A detective, no less.’

‘Don’t set your standards by me,’ Sarah laughed dryly. ‘My life is far from perfect as I’m sure you know.’ Sarah relaxed on her stool. This may be veering off police business but care in the community was part of it too. ‘Have you spoken to your GP? Maybe they could help.’

‘Scoot.’ Elsie nudged her cat and it darted down to the end of the bed. Almost unconsciously, her hand fell to the box of éclairs which were resting on her bedside table. ‘I have to lose weight for the surgery,’ she said, tearing open the box. ‘But it’s an addiction. I can’t just stop.’ She sank her teeth into the éclair and cream squirted out the sides of her mouth. ‘Besides …’ She licked her lips. ‘If I do have surgery, I could die under the knife.’ She swallowed the éclair before reaching for another. ‘So I think about it, and I think about it some more, and then I get scared, so I eat to make myself feel better and …’

‘You’re back to square one,’ Sarah finished her sentence.

Elsie shoved the rest of the pastry into her mouth, talking between chews. ‘You know, this is the first time I’ve spoken about it in years. Even the health professionals have given up on me.’ She sniffed, grabbing a square of kitchen paper and wiping her mouth. ‘I don’t even taste it half the time.’

‘I’m sure help is there when you’re ready for it,’ Sarah said. She should be moving on, but she couldn’t leave Elsie in this state.