‘I found some things for you,’ Connie said later that afternoon.

Connie had been for a nap and Piper had drafted a blog post about travelling by train while fat (in some of the loos she barely had room to pull her knickers up) and replied to some comments and emails on her phone, before watching an episode of Murder She Wrote that she’d seen at least twice before. Connie had woken up full of determination, insisting on making a pot of tea and setting out the trifles from hell on the coffee table, before fetching a cardboard box from her bedroom and telling Piper to put her phone away.

‘I don’t know if you’ll be interested,’ Connie said. Her cheek was striped with pillow creases. It made Piper’s heart hurt. ‘And if you’re not, then say so and I can give them to someone else. Don’t take them home with you and stick them in a charity bag or something.’

‘I wouldn’t!’ Piper said, scratching behind Buster’s ears, as he lay panting next to her on the sofa.

‘It’s not much. Just some bits and bobs I found when I moved. I had boxes and boxes in the loft. Graeme never threw anything out. Even when he told me he’d got rid of stuff, he’d just put it in the loft! He knew I’d never go up that ladder.’

Piper smiled, remembering the time her uncle had put his foot through the ceiling. Connie had been at the bottom of the ladder shouting ‘Be careful up there! Stay on the beams!’ and then there’d been a crash and his leg had appeared above them all. Piper and Holly had just about managed to keep it together until his slipper had fallen off.

‘I don’t know if this is your style?’ Aunt Connie said, holding out a ring in a navy-blue box. It was a gold band with a flower of diamonds. Piper took it from her and stared at it.

‘Is this yours?’

‘Yours now,’ Connie said. ‘If you want it?’

‘I can’t take this.’ Piper was still staring at it. It was so pretty.

‘You’re not taking it. I’m giving it to you. I got it for fifty years’ service. I’ve never worn it. Never been into rings. Try it on.’

Piper lifted it out of the box and slid it onto the ring finger on her right hand. It looked perfect.

‘Gorgeous,’ Connie said. ‘See, you’ve always had lovely hands. Not like mine.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with your hands,’ Piper said.

Connie held out her right hand, little finger extended. The tip was missing. Piper had been there when she’d cut it off, chopping potatoes for a shepherd’s pie. She’d been totally calm about it too, calling out to Uncle Graeme that she needed him to drive her to the hospital. She’d told Piper and Holly to throw out any potatoes with blood on them, wash the rest and then set them to boil for when she got back. Piper smiled, remembering. Aunt Connie had been kind of a badass.

‘Do you want that lamp you used to like?’ Connie said now.

‘Which…’ Piper couldn’t think of a lamp she ever would have coveted.

‘The spidery one,’ Connie said, waving her hands. ‘You know. Tiny lights, all…’ She wafted her hands again.

Piper frowned. ‘I can’t think of—’

She was interrupted by a loud bang from the kitchen.

‘Oh bloody hell,’ Connie said. ‘I forgot the blasted pie.’

Piper followed her aunt into the kitchen. ‘When did you even put a pie on? Who for?’

‘For us,’ Connie said. ‘For tea.’

‘Wait! Don’t—’ Piper said, but Connie was already lifting a saucepan off the stove and filling it with water from the tap.

‘It’s fine,’ Connie said. ‘I’ve done it before. My memory. You know. And I got chatting. I should’ve set a timer. I always forget.’ She grabbed a strainer, drained the pan, tipped the tin of steak pie into the bin, squirted the pan with washing-up liquid and filled it with hot water, leaving it in the sink to soak. She did it all so fast, Piper hadn’t even quite taken in what had happened.

‘Was the pie meant to be in the pan?’

‘Hmm?’ Connie said, her head in the fridge. ‘Yes. That’s how you cook them. Have you had something to eat?’

‘I’m fine, thanks. And there’s the trifles.’

‘Oh, of course,’ Connie said. ‘I forgot about them.’

‘What did the doctor actually say?’ Piper asked, once they were ensconced back in the lounge.

‘I told you,’ Connie said without looking up.

‘You didn’t.’ Piper had asked – more than once – but her aunt hadn’t replied.

‘He said I was probably dehydrated. That’s all.’

‘Hmm,’ Piper said.

‘Don’t “hmm” me. It wasn’t as bad as Jim said. He’s always been a fusspot. I had a vivid dream and I woke up a bit confused, that’s all. You really didn’t need to come dashing all the way up here. I’m not dead yet!’

Piper swallowed around the lump in her throat and drank some tea.

‘I know,’ she said, eventually. ‘I just wanted to see you.’

Connie raised one eyebrow at her before delving back into the box.

‘I know I don’t come home enough,’ Piper said. ‘It’s just hard.’

‘I know,’ Connie said. ‘It’s hard for me too. But it’s good to see you. I don’t see you enough. And as for your sister… I’m not sure I’d recognise her in the street!’

Piper laughed. ‘She looks the same. She always looks the same.’

‘Skinny and irritable?’ Connie said and then giggled. ‘Oh, I shouldn’t say that. Her heart’s in the right place.’

But I’m not sure what it’s made of, Piper thought, but didn’t say.