Across the road, those who watch the vicarage’s transformation see windows beaming golden. Not only has the grin at ground level broadened but the eyes are open and alight upstairs. A watcher may remark that after sleeping for so long, the building appears to have been roused from within.

* * *

As another fresh bulb clicks into place inside the bathroom, the illumination of the first-floor landing is further improved. Jess steps off the stool, her relief manifest until she catches sight of the drawing of that ghastly blind beggar with one hand, forever pulling a cart through a night-blackened wood. Towards the water. Towards the dark shape that rises from the pond.

In the corner of her eye, the rusty scythe on the wall glimmers dully. Jess turns her back on it all.

* * *

Plates and pans drip suds on a draining rack. Two rubbish sacks bulge upon the floor. The washing machine thrums, spins its drum. Outside, the sky bruises at the concussion of night.

As Jess furiously scrubs the surfaces of Morag’s mess from the previous shift, she shares her thoughts with Izzy, who has wandered in. ‘How does a grown woman make so much mess?’

‘Morag’s a lazy bitch.’

‘Izzy!’

Izzy runs a tap and holds Flo’s drinking bottle under the stream. ‘Flo’s thirsty.’

‘How’d you know?’

‘She told me.’

Jess stops rubbing at a cup-ring and watches her daughter. ‘Since you’re such good mates with Flo you can help give her a bath. She’ll sleep better.’

‘Okay.’

‘Maybe she won’t be so free with her hands either if you’re there. But you be careful round her, Izz. I mean it.’

‘Okay.’

23

Hunched, wasted, naked, at her most frail, Flo sits perched upon a cushioned stool beside the old bathtub in a bathroom that has never been modernised. Izzy stands beside the stool and holds Flo’s hand. Jess finishes sprinkling an ancient jar of pink salts into the water and turns to collect Flo. Her movements are less wary with Izzy present and she raises the body of her client in the way that a mother would lift her child.

There are grab rails around the bath and Izzy places Flo’s hands upon the rails. Flo and Izzy giggle as Flo’s legs slide beneath the surface.

‘Not too hot?’ Jess asks.

‘She’s fine,’ Izzy answers.

‘Erce. Erce. Erce,’ Flo mutters, smiling with delight and swishing her lumpy hands through the gently steaming water.

‘I’ll do her hair and all. About time we called a chiropodist too. Now don’t you let her go for a swim while I’m fetching towels, Izz.’ Jess steps out of the bathroom and up to the airing cupboard, directly outside the bathroom door. With the cupboard door open, half of Flo’s body and the bathtub remain visible. Izzy sits on the stool beside the bath.