‘She looks so much older,’ Holly said. ‘And smaller.’

She and Piper were sitting next to Connie’s hospital bed, one on each side. Piper had been stroking Connie’s hand, but her fingers were so thin, her skin so dry and papery, that she had to keep stopping. She fiddled with the ring Connie had given her instead, turning it round and round on her finger.

The previous night, Piper had first called an ambulance and then called Holly. Connie hadn’t regained consciousness on the journey, or during the barrage of tests she’d been subjected to on arrival, or since.

Piper had stayed at Connie’s flat, but had barely slept. Instead she’d curled up with Buster, listened to his heart beating and cried into his fur as he slept.

Holly had got the first train up in the morning, arriving at Connie’s bedside looking tired and pale, her hair unwashed and face free of make-up. She’d held her arms out as if to hug Piper, before apparently remembering they didn’t really do that any more and dropping down to kiss Connie’s cheek instead.

‘It’s worse the longer she doesn’t wake up,’ Holly said. Even though Piper knew that; of course it was. ‘What did the doctor say?’

‘Nothing, really. Just that she’s comfortable.’ Piper picked Connie’s hand up again. ‘They’ve done a load of tests. I think they think it’s a stroke.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ Holly said. ‘The way her mouth is...’

Connie’s mouth was twisted. Only a little, but enough.

Piper nodded. She found herself blinking back tears again. She felt like she’d been either crying or trying not to cry for days now.

‘Are you okay?’ Holly asked Piper. ‘Being here?’

Piper bit the inside of her cheek. She’d drawn blood doing the same last night, as soon as the ambulance had pulled up and she’d seen the light shining through the open doors. The antiseptic smell, the squeak of her shoes on the vinyl floor, the exhaustion on the faces of almost everyone she passed. She’d thought for a second she was going to faint. A nurse had brought her a plastic cup of strong sweet tea while she waited for Connie to be seen and she’d felt like it was the only thing tethering her to reality.

‘No,’ Piper said. ‘But it’s not like we have a choice.’

‘No,’ Holly said. ‘I was thinking on the train… thank god you were there.’

Piper’s throat burned. She nodded.

‘Her neighbours would have found her,’ Piper said. ‘That’s what I’ve been telling myself. Buster would’ve barked.’

Holly nodded. ‘I feel horrible. I feel awful for not coming home.’

Piper shook her head. ‘You’re here now.’

Holly reached for her aunt’s hand, but didn’t pick it up, just rubbed her thumb over the loose skin on the back.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I suppose.’

Piper looked up at the clock. Visiting time was almost over. She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to leave and go back to Connie’s and then get a phone call...

‘Are you going to stay at Connie’s?’ she asked her sister.

‘I thought I would, yeah. Do you think that’s okay?’

Piper nodded. ‘I’m staying there too.’

‘Are you not staying at Robbie’s?’

Piper shook her head. ‘We’re not that serious.’

Ignoring the look of confusion on her sister’s face, she stood and rearranged the water jug and plastic cups on Connie’s bedside table before opening the cupboard to make sure her things were still there. Not that she had much. Piper had brought her a couple of magazines for when she woke up. Because she had to wake up.

‘Why not?’ Holly asked. She was holding Connie’s hand now, Piper noticed, and staring down at it, watching her thumb brush back and forth over the liver-spotted skin.

‘Why not what?’

‘You and Robbie. I thought—’

‘Do we have to talk about this now?’ Piper said.

‘No. I didn’t know it was a big thing. We can talk about it later, if you like.’

‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ Piper said.