8.30 a.m. Shit. As usual for the last eighteen months, her pants and vest were dripping wet, a creek flowing through her new cleavage and pooling on her new tummy. She scraped her drenched clothes and sheets off and put them in the wash, peed, showered, tossed on jeans and a t-shirt, and headed to the kitchen to begin gathering the day’s essentials. A three-quarter empty bottle of Sangiovese, sitting on the floor next to the bin, triggered a memory from a hitherto forgotten last night. Mary had decided to throw the wine in the bin, but must have been side-tracked, perhaps with the jigsaw puzzle. That was right. She’d turned all her devices off, as Roddie had advised, and become a little intoxicated. A pair of scissors, now spread-eagled on the table, had been used by Mary to amputate several family homes in Vernazza, which she had then forced into un-natural bonds with villagers in Monterosso. A large pile of ashes, and some fragments of the hardcover copy of Cuck, lay in the hearth. She’d had a book-burning ceremony too, which had turned out to be quite hypnotic. Mary grabbed her phone, charger, bag, ID, and work-issue Blackberry, chucked them in her work satchel, and headed to McKinley’s.

Minnie hadn’t shown yet. It was ten past nine, and the wait had weakened Mary’s resolve to avoid the internet. Her personal mobile was charging, and she was reading the texts on her work-issue Blackberry. Catherine, her boss, wanted her to call urgently, so she tried, failed, left a message. Minnie texted: In light of yesterday, let’s reschedule. Hope you’re okay.

Bugger. She’d come all this way. Wasted an hour already. Could’ve written a full CJSWR, at least done the LS/CMI or whisked off a few CPORs. If she’d known. What a waste of time. Mary didn’t waste time, which is why she was knocking on McKinley’s door.

As usual, he was holding on to his Zimmer. No ball/s this time, but a wet spot on his boxers, which Mary must not think about for many, many years to come.

‘Put some trousers on.’ Mary had never used this tone with McKinley before. She followed his saggy bottom as he shuffled through the hall.

‘Where are your trousers kept?’ She’d entered his bedroom without permission, which was stupid of her, especially considering he and the Zimmer were now at the door, blocking her exit.

‘Top drawer.’

Mary grabbed a neatly ironed pair of pyjama bottoms. Nothing dodgy in the drawer, as far as she could see. She walked towards the door, assuming Jimmy would move out of the way. He didn’t.

‘Get out of the way, Jimmy.’ Mary put her hands on the front bar of his walker and pushed. He pushed back for a while, like a dad pretending to arm-wrestle his child, then, thankfully, shuffled back and out of the way.