‘No reason. Did you sleep okay last night?’

‘Yes, like a baby.’

She was lying but I didn’t have the balls to pick her up on it.

‘Have you gone ahead and booked the operation?’

‘Never mind that. Aren’t you going to ask me what I think of her?’

‘Wasn’t going to, no, but I expect you’re going to tell me.’

‘She’s too good for you and then some. But you looked cute together and Lassoo liked her so that’s good enough for me.’

‘Well, thank you, Grace, I value your opinion above everyone else’s apart from, of course, the local butcher. So, have you booked the operation?’

‘Yes, it’s all done. If I don’t survive it, you can have Lassoo and whatever is left in the fridge.’

‘You’ll be fine. I’ll speak to you later or in the morning.’

‘Oh, in the morning, is it? You mean if you get lucky tonight?’

‘I’m lucky every day, Grace, because I have you to watch over and harass me.’

‘That’s true, that is.’

‘Has anyone called at my flat since I’ve been gone?’

‘I did hear someone knocking on your door an hour or so ago but I was on the toilet so I didn’t get out quick enough to see who it was. Hate it when that happens.’

‘I know you do.’

Emily returned about half an hour later, giving me the thumbs-down gesture as she approached. She slumped down next to me on the bench and told me what had occurred.

22

Emily

There was nobody on reception or in any of the public rooms when I got inside the hotel, so I made my way up to the family flat on the top floor. I knocked on the entrance door and opened it slowly and politely while continuing to gently knock. My father was sat reading a newspaper on the same winged easy chair he was sat in on the day I left home. I was shocked to see how much weight he had lost and how pale and drawn he seemed. His skin was paper thin and his breathing loud and uncomfortable. He clearly wasn’t well. I stood in the doorway for a moment. He didn’t look up.

‘Hello, Father,’ I said as I walked a few feet into the room.

Nothing much seemed to have changed about the décor or ambience of the place. The only thing that stood out was a large table lamp to one end of the sideboard in the shape and design of a satsuma. The room had never had to accept such a splash of colour when I lived there. Mum used to wear bright orange and yellow dresses and skirts and would shine like a peacock whenever she sat in this room. Perhaps the lamp was some sort of token to her absence.

My father turned his head towards me.