‘Stop that infernal pacing.’ Her mother slumped into the sofa. Gramps was sitting upstairs with Gran, and Lottie wasn’t sure where Alex had gone. Hiding possibly, Lottie would if she could. She wanted to unhear what Gran had said. How was she going to avoid telling her mother? Her stomach clenched. Her mother’s childish words on the page and her grandmother’s words chased each other in her brain.

‘Did she say anything else? Did she speak?’

Lottie swallowed, stopped pacing, and looked out of the French windows. What should she say? Best to not say anything.

‘Did you hear me?’ Her mother came up to her.

Lottie avoided her gaze. ‘Sorry, Mum, I was lost in my own thoughts.’

‘Did my mother say anything? Did she come back to consciousness?’

Lottie’s glance darted about the room looking for escape. ‘Nothing new.’

She crossed her arms. ‘What does that mean?’

‘I couldn’t make out her words.’ She looked down at the carpet. ‘I think they were Persian, maybe.’

‘Persian? She was never posted to Iran. Makes no sense.’ She strode to the fireplace. Picking up the porcelain dog that sat there, she turned it in her hands, feeling the weight of it and the detail. Lottie held her breath, waiting for the smash that she was sure to follow.

‘Well, that’s what I thought. The other day she was speaking Russian and then some Arabic.’ Why had she said Persian? Almost any other language would have been better.

‘The last two make sense but not Persian.’ She put the ornament down.

‘Were you expecting her to say something?’ Lottie took a step towards her then thought better of it.

‘I’d hoped.’ She adjusted the dog on the mantle.

‘Did you have a dog?’

Her mother swung around. ‘What does that have to do with anything?’

‘I don’t know.’ Lottie glanced towards the fireplace and saw the ornament. ‘You were looking at that thing so intently.’ She took a deep breath.

‘The pictures show me with a dog in Moscow but I don’t remember.’

‘What type was it?’

‘It looked like a Cavalier King Charles.’

‘Oh.’ That was not the type of animal that would be a threat to a child.

‘You’re behaving really oddly.’

Lottie tilted her head and gave her mother a hard stare. ‘My grandmother is dying.’ She paused. ‘I’m not really myself.’

‘Fair enough.’ Her mother turned and walked out of the room and Lottie wasn’t sure if she was relieved or lost. She wanted to hold her mother and to be held, but if anything with Gran leaving, her mother felt further away. She wrapped her arms around herself trying to keep everything together. She rocked back and forth looking at the increasing cloud covering the bay. It felt right somehow.

Alex stood in the doorway. ‘You OK?’

She shook her head as he walked up to her.