‘Hello?’

‘Hello,’ I croaked back.

‘Am I all right to come in?’

Considering the events of the past couple of days, this was not a time to start worrying about pride. Or appearances. Or how badly my breath stank, given that I’d not had the energy to bother brushing my teeth. Daniel came in carrying a tray bearing a mug of tea, a sandwich and another dose of pain medication. He paused, frowning at me slumped against the bed on one elbow, ratty hair falling over my face like a witless old crone, before dispensing with the tray and backing out of the room again.

Great. I made one more half-hearted attempt to hoist a knee up on top of the stupidly high bedframe, instead collapsing face-first onto the mattress. Perhaps I could stay here until I recovered enough to slither the rest of myself up to join my top half. Maybe just a short snooze…?

‘Here.’

Oh! I twisted my face around to see Daniel placing a wooden stool about a foot high beside me on the faded rug. He busied himself faffing about and doing nothing with the tray so I could clamber into bed with a modicum of privacy.

‘Thanks.’

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, handing me a glass of water and two pills.

‘Can I answer that once these have had a chance to kick in?’

‘Is there anything else you need?’ He glanced at the ceiling, the floor, the pile of bags against the dresser. This was a box room. The heavy, dark green curtains blocked most of the daylight from entering, and it suddenly felt like an exceedingly small space for two people who had only just met, one of whom was wearing the other’s sister’s pyjamas.

‘I’m fine, thanks. I need to make a couple of work calls, and hopefully by then I’ll feel strong enough to get out of your way.’

Daniel sighed, shaking his head slightly. ‘I’m taking Hope to Mum’s for a couple of hours, after she missed seeing her yesterday. There’s some as yet unidentifiable meat in a sauce defrosting for dinner. Hopefully by then you’ll feel strong enough to come downstairs and watch whatever crap we can find on TV. If not, that’s fine. Here.’ He pulled a piece of paper out of his jeans pocket. ‘My number. In case you need anything, or get stuck halfway down the stairs or something.’

I nodded, this simple token of kindness causing my throat to seize up with fresh unshed tears. My body wasn’t the only thing about me that had arrived at Damson Farm feeling bashed up and broken. Having lost so much in the past few days, and about to sever ties with my last thread of security, knowing I could stay here for a while and do nothing, have no pressure or expectations put upon me – not even coming down the stairs – was the best possible medicine. I drank almost all of my tea, managed three bites of sandwich and then scrolled through photos of Charlie on my phone until I sobbed myself back to sleep.