‘We offered her a sedative, but she wouldn’t take it. She’s in her room.’

‘I’ll go and see what I can do,’ he says.

It is gone midnight and the corridors are dimly lit, though for Cullen the route to Amanda’s room is so familiar to him that he could find her room in the pitch dark. Sometimes he even walks it in his dreams or, rather, in his nightmares. He knocks and, getting no response, lets himself in. Amanda is sitting in her armchair with her eyes closed, but not asleep. She’s had her hair done again and looks like nothing so much as an overripe peach whose skin has become furred and mouldy. He goes towards her and sits himself on the stool in front of her armchair.

She opens her eyes. ‘Oh, it’s you.’

‘They told me something was wrong and you wanted me to come. Do you want to tell me what the problem is and why it can’t wait till morning?’

A text pings onto his phone. Cullen takes the device out of his pocket and looks at the screen. He feels himself shrinking. Veronica.

Don’t be long darling. I’ve put a bottle of champagne on ice.

She made the announcement over a very expensive dinner. Isn’t it gorgeous? You’re going to be a daddy and I’m going to be a mummy! Women with their demands. Do they ever stop? Cullen does not want to be a daddy. He doesn’t want to be a son. Right now, all he wants is to be left alone to get a good night’s sleep.

‘It’s late, Mother.’

‘You can’t expect me to sleep in this den of thieves? I might wake up with nothing left at all.’

At the mention of the word ‘thieves’ Cullen feels his whole body contract.

‘My bracelet has gone. The gold and diamond one that was my mother’s.’

‘You’ve probably just misplaced it.’

‘Have you any idea what that bracelet is worth?’

‘I can guess,’ he says. He does, in fact, know precisely what the bracelet is worth.

‘They’ve stolen it. The so-called carers. They’re all foreigners, you know. I always knew they couldn’t be trusted. And now one of them has taken the only thing that ever meant anything to me.’ She begins to cry.

Maura appears in the doorway. Amanda points an accusatory finger. It strikes Cullen then that his mother is drunk. Absolutely pickled.

‘Now, Amanda,’ says Maura, sadly, ‘I’m sure it will turn up.’

‘That’s what I said,’ Cullen says, grateful to have back-up. ‘I’ll bet it’s here somewhere, Mother,’ Cullen says, hoping this will satisfy her and knowing, in his heart, that it won’t. ‘Have you looked everywhere?’

The Dalek snorts. ‘What do you mean, everywhere? In case you hadn’t noticed, this room is the size of a shoebox.’