Good. Yeah, good.’

She pulled on her anorak. Cal didn’t want her to go. He didn’t know her, but she was in control and would be calm and practical through whatever lay ahead. She would know what to do. In contrast, he felt an unfamiliar gnawing in his stomach. He stood up uncertainly, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets to stop from fidgeting, effectively blocking her exit, then awkwardly moved out of her way, hoping that she stay after all.

She sensed his unease. ‘Listen out for her. It’s unlikely she’ll be needing anything. Just the fact that someone is there with her… there’s nothing else you need to do. I’ll see to her when I come back.’

Cal nodded and watched her walk round the corner of the house, the wind flapping her anorak.

He was shaking. Mary was approaching death and he would have to be there for her. His ability for sales showmanship would count for nothing in the room next door. He would have to rely on his basic humanity stripped bare and he was unsure whether it was up to the task.

The living room was cool compared to the kitchen. Although the heavy drapes had been pulled back, the light that penetrated the thick net curtains was absorbed by the room, the dark carpet, the wood of the furniture and the brown leather of the settee.

Cal walked into the hall and listened outside the bedroom door, delaying having to confront what lay behind it. Finally, he pushed it open. He was struck immediately by the heat of the room, a swirl of bedroom mustiness, body odour and perfume.

Daylight glowed in burnished amber through the tawny curtains. He could see Mary’s shape on the bed and his breathing eased a little now that reality had usurped the fear of anticipation. She was on her back, her head resting on two pillows, her mouth slightly open and her face sunken. Her breathing was shallow and intermittent.

There was a chair next to the bed, a wicker armchair that he had never seen before. Beside it lay a women’s magazine and a bag from which knitting needles protruded. The chair creaked as he sat down and the sound caused Mary to stir. There was a change in her breathing and an almost imperceptible movement of her head. Then her eyes flickered open.

Cal tensed. What could he say that wouldn’t alarm her? She spoke first.

‘Calum?’ Her voice was weak and tired.

‘Yes Aunt Mary, it’s me.’

She took a deeper breath and turned her head towards him.

‘Oh my dear, you came.’ The words were whispered.

‘Of course I came.’ He felt better now, talking with her.

She breathed again. ‘Maybe you could open the curtains to let in some light.’

The chair creaked again as he pulled himself out of it and moved over the draw back the curtains. The light, grey again, fell across the bed. He could see her hair irregularly fanned out on the pillow. It struck Cal that he had never before seen Mary in bed. She had always been up and about.

He sat down again.