Patricia seldom spoke when Judith visited. She was confined to a wheelchair whilst her broken hip healed, and would spend most of the hour staring out of the window.

Because Cardiff University was just down the road, sometimes Catrin came with her, coursework and timetable permitting. And on those occasions Patricia would be sweetness and light towards them both, telling Catrin how grateful she was that Judith had given up uni to come and look after her. ‘I don’t know where I’d be without this daughter of mine!’ she’d say, and Judith would worry about her own sanity, especially when Catrin whispered to her afterwards, ‘She seems to have mellowed, Jude, don’t you think?’ It took a lot of willpower for Judith to resist screaming. Maybe she was paranoid, but part of her wondered whether Catrin actually believed her when she described how different Patricia could be when Jude visited alone – so convincing was her mother’s performance.

One Wednesday afternoon as she was leaving St Luke’s for home, Mr Sharma the consultant told her that her mother could be discharged at the weekend. He smiled when he said it. And she smiled back. Though they both knew they were putting it on. ‘She’ll need help till she’s back on her feet again,’ he said. ‘But in terms of her mental health, I’d say she’s coming on in leaps and bounds.’ The idea of Patricia leaping or bounding anywhere was complete anathema to Judith, but she said thank you and promised she’d be there on Saturday morning to collect her. She would try and get a lift from someone (maybe Catrin’s dad would help) and, if not, a taxi.

Finally, Patricia saw fit to speak to her loyal daughter. ‘Make sure you’re not late,’ she said and turned away.

As she travelled back to Coed Celyn on the bus that evening, Judith realized how much life was going to change now that Patricia was coming home. She’d taken the solitude for granted, luxuriated in having the house to herself. But come Saturday the whole scenario would be different. She’d have to make a bed up for her mother downstairs – there was no way she’d be able to get up to her bedroom till her hip was completely better. She looked out of the bus window and sighed, rain pelting against the glass in sympathy.

‘Shift over.’ A voice disturbed her and made her jump. She looked up. It was Gareth Metcalf.

‘Oh, hello,’ she said, slightly irritated by the interruption. ‘Didn’t know you used the bus.’

‘Bike’s bein’ serviced,’ he said, sitting himself down, legs akimbo, with apparently no thought for Judith’s personal space. ‘Normally they’ve got a courtesy car in work, but it’s out till tomorrow.’

‘Right,’ said Judith, not really knowing what else to say, which was always the case on the rare occasions their paths crossed. Certainly since Gareth had come to her rescue on the day of the Athens flight he’d gone up a bit in her estimation, but she always felt slightly uncomfortable in his company. Was it because she knew the secret about Lana and the Irish builder on their last night in Greece? Did she feel somehow culpable – even though it had been nothing to do with her? Or was it because she knew that he and Lana had been quarrelling a bit lately, Lana feeling the need to write Judith letters sharing all the ins and outs? She wished she didn’t – it really was none of Judith’s business.