The tray Sarah lifted from the bed bore a plate that still held most of the meal she’d put on it. Her nana’s appetite had all but failed as she neared the end of her life. Once a vibrant woman, possessed with an indomitable strength of character and a wickedly inappropriate sense of humour, she was now bedridden.

Six months ago, Nana’s doctor had told her that she had less than a year to live. Like the battler she was, Nana had taken the news without complaint and had resisted all offers of help until she became too infirm to care for herself. It was at this point Sarah and her mother had tried to insist Nana live with one of them. The old girl had refused though, and Sarah and her mum now alternated nights at Nana’s house. Social services had carers who’d visit in the mornings and at lunchtimes, but Nana refused all their attempts to bathe her. That task was just one of the many which fell to Sarah and her mother.

Between the two of them, they now had three houses to keep, a full-time job each and lives of their own to live. But they didn’t complain, and just tried to remember that Nana had enriched their lives with imparted wisdom, sage advice and a constant supply of home baking that threatened to make their waistlines bulge.

Sarah filled a bowl in the shower and, using a facecloth, washed her nana down. She chatted as she worked, but the old lady had fallen asleep a minute after refusing the sixth forkful Sarah had tried to feed her.

Once she’d straightened the covers and laid the remote control for the TV next to the elderly woman’s right hand, Sarah went downstairs and filled the kettle. While it boiled she ate the tuna salad she’d made for herself.

The nurse who visited daily had intimated the end was approaching. On a detached level, Sarah knew that her grandmother didn’t have long left; her cheeks were sunken and she was spending more time asleep than awake. Her brain may have told her this, but her heart wasn’t ready to admit defeat, wasn’t ready to accept the inevitable and prepare to say goodbye.

As a distraction she flicked through a fashion magazine and then used her mobile to check Facebook. Neither held her interest for long, so she bent her mind to the contents of her wardrobe. She’d had a root through it before coming to Nana’s and had selected three outfits she could wear on Wednesday. It was important that she struck the right balance between professional and alluring. The guy she wanted to snare was the kind of guy who’d be used to a certain amount of female flattery; while she may get his attention with a flash of cleavage, that wasn’t enough for her: she wasn’t interested in having a one-night stand, what she wanted was longer term.

While the timing couldn’t have been much worse, she couldn’t pass up this opportunity. There weren’t a lot of men in the Kendal area she considered to be a decent catch, and therefore she couldn’t allow someone else to snare him first.

Her ex always used to say her legs and backside were her best features and with this in mind, the favourite of her three options was a tight skirt that showed off her legs. The problem was, the only shoes she had that worked with the burgundy skirt were four-inch heels that were likely to cripple her if she wore them for a full day.

With luck, tomorrow may be quiet enough for her to sneak off and buy a pair of shoes with a lower heel.

‘Sarah.’

The lone word had her on her feet and dashing up the stairs in an instant. Nana’s voice was hoarse and strained. Were it not for the baby monitor hidden beside the bed, Sarah would have never heard her calling her name.