‘Hardly a local firm,’ said Judith.

‘I’ve googled them and their office looks like a Nissen hut, only not as classy. They must be in cahoots with this Steven Dean fella.’

‘You mean they’re dodgy?’

‘Looks like it.’

‘I was always under the impression that solicitors were such honest folk.’

‘You’re so naïve, Mother.’

‘I’ve spawned a monster,’ she laughed. ‘So what will you say?’

‘I’ll just tell them what we know about Steven Dean’s history and express our concern about their being two hundred miles away, and ask how can they possibly vouch for their client’s – i.e. Nana’s – mental state? It won’t legally mean anything, but it might frighten them off. They don’t seem to have an email address, which also rings alarm bells, but I’ll fax them on headed paper.’

And so twenty-four hours later she found herself in Patricia’s little living room, trying to convince her mother that Adrian Oliver was no good, whilst Jack tried acting as peace-keeper from the safety of Judith’s smartphone screen.

‘We’re not lying to you,’ she said, finding herself feeling unexpectedly sorry for her mother, who today looked very much her age. ‘Jack’s got the proof. This friend of his – this Steven Dean – he’s a criminal, Mum. And Adrian … well, so many things just don’t add up. Like the fact that he takes charge of your bank cards, and your statements. Edwina said he put you in a home three times last year so he could go on holiday. I didn’t even know.’

‘And doesn’t that say something?’ said Patricia, turning on her daughter. ‘You come here, shouting the odds, attacking poor Adrian, who has done nothing but look after me … of course he needs holidays!’

‘You bought him a car! Please don’t tell me he’s got his hands on your pension – that money was Dad’s gift to you!’ And then, following swiftly on the heels of that thought, she had another more frightening one. ‘Oh my God, has he made you remortgage the house?’

‘Mum? Nana?’ Jack’s voice, small as his picture, was drowned out as mother and daughter launched into a full-blown row.

‘Yes, I did buy him a car! So that he can drive me places. The pictures, the shops, daytrips – what have you ever done for me?’

‘Can we all just calm down?’ said Jack from his office in London.

‘I’ve put up with you, Mum. That’s what I’ve done. I’ve indulged you. I took the shame of having the worst mother in the school and bore it like a bloody martyr. You didn’t give me a childhood, you gave me a job – a lady in fucking waiting, a nursemaid, a prop. And then you got rid of the only decent relative I ever had …’

‘Oh that’s right, bring old Greco-chops into it. He wasn’t even your real father …’

Judith gasped, incredulous at her mother’s cruelty. ‘You’re pathetic, d’you know that? You’re a sad little old lady who’s driven away the few people who might have cared for you, and replaced them with some parasitic freak who pretends to be your son and drains you of every penny you’ve got. Well, d’you know what, Mum? Good luck with that one. You deserve each other. He wanted me out of your life and you wanted me out of your life, and now you’ve both got what you wished for.’