‘You’ll need to get on to Beryl at work for me. Tell them what’s happened …’

‘And what has happened, Mother?’ Judith asked, her voice level.

Patricia avoided the question. Again. ‘Course, you could offer to do a few shifts instead of me. Ring Beryl now, sweetheart, and tell her. I’ll be off for a good couple of weeks, the doctor reckons.’

George came in with the Alka-Seltzer and painkillers and handed them to Patricia, who took them without thanks. She swallowed and sighed. Then stared at her daughter, challenging. ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Sooner Beryl knows, the sooner she can organize cover for me.’

Judith steadied her shaking hands and launched straight in. ‘Mum, you do know I’m meant to be on my way to the airport right now, don’t you? To catch a plane. With my friends. For the holiday we’ve been planning for the last two years.’

Patricia looked at her. Cold. Unsympathetic. ‘And what d’you expect me to do about it, Missy?’ she asked. ‘I can’t help it if I had a bloody heart attack in the middle of the town centre! Oh excuse me for being ill, excuse me for being at death’s door!’

‘Yeah, but you weren’t ill, were you? And you didn’t have a heart attack. Nor have you had three previous heart attacks, like you told the doctor you had!’

‘What’s she talking about, Pat?’ George asked.

‘I have absolutely no idea,’ Patricia answered. ‘Now will you please phone Beryl before it’s too late. I don’t want to mess the woman around.’

Judith looked at the wall clock above her mother’s head.

And made the decision in a demi second.

She took two strides towards the fireplace, picked up her purse and her passport from the mantelpiece, and heaved the rucksack on to her back.

‘What the hell d’you think you’re doing?’ Her mother was incredulous.

‘I’m going on holiday.’

Patricia, suddenly match-fit again, was on her feet, attempting to pull the rucksack back on to the floor.

‘You are not leaving this house, young lady!’ she shouted, but Judith’s defiance and determination had made her strong. Patricia didn’t stand a chance.

‘Oh, but I am,’ Judith replied, striding towards the door. ‘You’ve ruined enough things in my life, Mum.’ And she turned to make her way through the small hallway, difficult with the cumbersome luggage on her back.

‘Well don’t just stand there, George, for Christ’s sake!’ Patricia screeched, and George made his way towards Judith.

‘Don’t, Dad, there’s no point in—’

But George wasn’t attempting to stop her leaving. He was opening the door to let her go.

‘Oh I see, like that, is it?’ Patricia laughed, the sneering laugh Judith knew so well. ‘As usual – ganging up on me! You should both be ashamed!’ she cried, and in the same breath turned on the tears.

Judith looked at George, fighting back the temptation to cry herself. ‘Bye Dad, I’ll see you in August, OK?’

George threw his arms around her, speechless, holding her like his life depended on it, looked her directly in the eye and finally let her go.