‘Why? What happens if you don’t?’

‘It’ll never heal. Usually we’d leave the dressing for longer, but she’s had some infection –’

‘I don’t bloody wonder.’

Leonie looked around the kitchen and laughed again. ‘Yeah, exactly. So, as well as antibiotics we’re changing the dressing more regularly than we usually would.’ A slightly rotten metallic smell had wafted up with the removal of the dressing and it lingered in the air of the kitchen, even after Leonie had covered the wound again. I waved my hand in front of my face and leaned in closer to see how she was finishing it off. ‘Well, you’ve got a strong stomach,’ said Leonie. ‘That’s a good start.’

As she was winding the last bit of gauze around the clean fresh dressing, Hessel appeared in the doorway. He stopped still when he saw Leonie, but Leonie didn’t even look up, winding away at the gauze around Bette’s limp arm as she said, ‘Hello, Hessel. Yes, as you can see, I’m here again.’

‘Where’s the other one?’

‘I swapped her out. You know I like to look in on Bette.’

‘I told you. And I told them.’

‘It’s not your call.’

Hessel stood in the doorway of the kitchen. Leonie kept her eyes down. Hessel was full of something to say, I couldn’t guess what, but then he looked at me and quickly turned and walked away from the house, his footsteps fading out across the gravel.

A weird silence settled across the kitchen.

‘I thought you said you were a family friend,’ I said.

‘Yeah, well. Bette thinks I’m alright. Don’t you, Bette?’ Bette grunted and Leonie spread surgical tape between her fingers and deftly cut two lengths. ‘Hessel, however, is no great fan of yours truly.’

‘No kidding,’ I said. And there it was again, Leonie’s throaty laugh. So I went on. ‘My mum can be a bit the same. It must run in the family. She was a bit down on me seeing my boyfriend, who is Lebanese.’

‘Really? That doesn’t sound like Cathy.’

‘Yeah. I guess some people can get a bit funny about people from elsewhere. Especially older people, like Hessel, like, with you, you know – it’s harder for them to adapt. They can get funny about anyone with immigrant heritage, African or Lebanese or whatever. Nassim gets it all the time.’

Leonie was sitting back, giving me her full face. The look she was giving me was sheer disbelief, and then a sharp twitch began at the corner of her mouth.

‘Oh honey,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Is that what you call it? Getting funny?’

I blinked. ‘Um. No. Of course not. No. Sorry, I –’

‘And are you saying I’m from somewhere else and Hessel isn’t?’

‘No, but well, you know what I mean.’

Leonie looked absolutely astonished. The mouth twitch had completely disappeared. ‘Are you serious?’ Leonie actually seemed a bit pissed off now.

I felt my face go red. ‘My boyfriend –’ I started. ‘I’m sorry.’