‘Well yes of course,’ she says, shaking her head as if I’m the one being unreasonable. ‘I’m just saying, if I were you I’d put a ring on it before it’s too late.’

She gives a little shimmy, and heads for the bathroom, humming Beyoncé. I stand there, open-mouthed, fuming.

When James walks in a few moments later, I’m still recovering.

He puts the paper bags full of pastries down on the table and turns to me, smiling with his lovely white perfect teeth. I go over and kiss him, taking him by surprise.

‘What was that for?’ He takes me by the shoulders and steps back, looking at me as if he’s taking me in. I look back at him. He is a nice man, I think.

‘Just because,’ I say, and I hug him, wrapping my arms around his broad back and gazing out at the rooftops that lead to the sea. He feels safe, and solid, and like he’s not going anywhere. Maybe that’s a good thing, I think, looking sideways at Mum’s place. Maybe that’s what I should be aiming for.

And then Mum’s phone rings.

‘Yes. Oh, right. Yes. Of course.’ Her face blanches whiter and whiter as she speaks until there are just two spots of high colour on each cheekbone, and something in my stomach drops down to the floor and I realise I’m clenching both hands into fists.

‘Of course. Yes. We’ll be there straight away.’

‘Mum?’ I squeeze the word out.

‘We need to get a taxi to the hospital.’

‘I’ve got the car,’ says James, picking up his car keys.

‘Of course. I need my bag,’ says Mum, her words mechanical and stiff. ‘Jess?’

‘I’m ready.’

I don’t even want to ask what’s happened. If I don’t ask, it can’t be the worst thing. It can’t be the worst thing.

Nanna’s lying in a bed in the Coronary Care Unit. I see her through the window. She looks tiny, propped up in bed with wires coming from her arms. When the nurse takes us into the room I spin round, as if to walk away from it all, covering my face with my hands. It’s Mum who puts a hand on my arm and says, ‘Come on, love.’ I turn back, and we walk in together.

The room is oddly silent. I don’t know what I was expecting: beeps and machines and all the sounds you think of when you watch this sort of thing on Casualty on television, not just this weird, deathly silence. Mum sits down on the chair beside the bed and looks to the nurse as if to ask permission to hold Nanna’s hand. The nurse who is checking something on the machine smiles and gives a brief nod. He looks exhausted.