Out of nowhere there’s a shadow over us, a uniform filling the doorway. Ma’s suddenly at my other side, steaming with booze, batting a filthy towel full of ice at Kayleigh’s face. Even the smell of piss suddenly streaming from Kayleigh into the pit on the floor can’t hide the smell of vodka, like Ma’s wearing it on her skin. The uniform grabs at Kayleigh, standing, lifting and turning all at once towards someone else in the doorway. I know they’re talking, their mouths are moving, but is it to me? Heads swivel as I stumble to 103my feet, Ma slumping face down into the wet clothes on the floor. I follow the uniforms down the stairs, at least I must’ve, because now I’m in an ambulance, opposite Kayleigh, who’s on a stretcher in the middle, plastic mask clamped over her face. And suddenly she’s naked, purple blotches all over her body, bloated nappy sitting at my feet like a dead white cat. They’re rolling her over, shoving at her other side, making her arch … Wait, what? A sudden wet patch on my shirt, the smell of acid in my nose, a bag appearing under my face as I retch into it. The scream of a siren and a jolt as we start to move. Across from Kayleigh’s pale, blotchy, but finally still body, the uniform meets my eyes. Short hair, dark eyes, pale, crumply face – I only realise it’s a woman when she starts to speak.

‘You’re her sister, are you?’

I nod, most of my face still inside the bag.

‘And that’s her mother back there, I take it? Your mother too?’

I nod again. Can’t speak. Will I ever be able to speak again? There’s already so much I’m not allowed to say, and now…

‘Does your sister have any allergies that you know of? Nuts, eggs, penicillin? That kind of thing?’

The bag crinkles as I shake my head. She reaches out a hand to touch Kayleigh’s forehead, eyes narrowing at me.

‘What’s your name?’

I look down at Kayleigh. Her eyes are closed. She’s breathing – in-out, in-out – like the dip in her chest is also a paper bag.

‘And hers?’ she asks, hand hovering over Kayleigh’s head. ‘Number two going in now,’ she yells. To me? To who? Resting one hand on Kayleigh’s hip, she pops a little white cartridge out of a packet in her lap, like a toy bullet. I stare as she rolls Kayleigh further forward on her side, lifting her top leg with one hand, pushing the cartridge in between her legs with the other till I can’t see it anymore. Where can it have gone? Not where I think it has … I retch again into the bag, eyes streaming as Kayleigh’s little body flops back on to the stretcher, limp and trembling. 104