I wander around the empty flat, noticing bits and pieces that Mum has brought with her from one house to the next. A green china mermaid, a painting of a naked woman gazing out of a window. Battered old tea, coffee and sugar canisters. I fill the kettle and switch it on, checking in the fridge for milk. Amazingly, there is some, and when I sniff it, it’s even fresh.

I make a cup of tea, rummage around in the cupboard in her room to find a blanket, and curl up on the sofa to watch television, and worry about Nanna.

James texts to ask how it’s going. I reply vaguely, explaining that Nanna’s fine, Mum’s off at a performance, and everything will hopefully become clearer in the morning. He’s all for coming down tonight, but the thought of trying to negotiate Mum meeting him, and dealing with everything that’s going on – I’m just too tired, and I can’t face it. But as I put the phone down and my stomach growls – making me realise I haven’t eaten since this morning – I can feel fear curling into the room like overnight mist from the sea. I don’t want Nanna to die. I’ve already lost Grandpa.

My phone buzzes again.

You surviving?

It’s Alex. I reply straight away.

I’ve left her in a ward full of old people, I type. And I’m worried I’m going to lose her. I’ve hardly got any family.

She’ll be okay. His message comes through quickly. You’re made of pretty strong stuff. You’ve always said that comes from your Nanna Beth. What have they said?

They’ve given her some medication and the doctor will be there tomorrow.

Are you going to be there?

Should I be?

Definitely. Get there for visiting hours – I had a look for you, they start at ten. The doctors won’t do their rounds until after then, so you can just tell them you want to be in on the conversation. Get your nanna to say she wants you there.

I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s nice to have someone onside who knows what they’re talking about, and it occurs to me that Alex has such a kind, reassuring manner that he must make a really good nurse.

I will, I write. And then add, Thanks – I really appreciate it. Xxx

That’s what friends are for, he replies. Another text appears a second later. It’s just one single x.

Chapter Thirty-Four: Jess

Chapter Thirty-Four

Jess

3rd October, Bournemouth

I’m woken by the phone the next morning at seven-thirty. I must’ve fallen asleep on the spare-room bed in my clothes – I’m still covered over by the blanket, my head awkwardly positioned on a velvet cushion. I grab my mobile, answering before I’ve even had time to register who’s calling.