Gloria did, stiff and silent.
“Better?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Without comment, Matty handed her the toilet roll, which had fallen to the floor with her, and turned her back, giving Gloria what privacy she could in a room barely big enough for one person to breathe in.
“I’m done,” Gloria said, her voice much smaller than it had been earlier.
Matty turned back to face her. “Let’s get you dressed and back into that chair for a little while.” She bent and brought Gloria’s underwear up over her knees. Then she helped her stand and reached down to pull them higher. Gloria didn’t stop her or complain. But once it was done, the old Gloria was back.
“Alright, stop fussing.”
Matty opened the door and held it for Gloria as she shuffled out. As she went to close the door, Matty remembered, then quickly lunged back into the tiny room and flushed the toilet.
Jesus Christ.
What the hell had she signed up for?
This wasn’t just making tea and keeping an eye on someone who grumbled at you. This was lifting and wiping and dressing and waiting for the next thing to go wrong. And she was meant to do it all again tomorrow. And the day after that.Maybe she had bitten off more than she could chew with Gloria?
Her phone buzzed in her back pocket.
She dragged it out, still trying to steady her breathing.
Sarah:Fuel bill’s come in. It’s ridiculous. Gone up again. We need to make a bigger payment than planned.
Matty stared at the screen.
Of course they would.
Chapter thirteen
Sloan let herself in as quietly as she could, which was ridiculous considering it was her own house, and because the front door still stuck sometimes unless you gave it a proper shove with your hip.
“I forgot my charger,” she called, loud enough to announce herself without sounding as though she were checking up.
Immediately from the lounge, Sloan heard Gloria’s voice shout out, “Did you? How tragic.”
Sloan shut the door and stood still for a second, listening.
No raised voices. No crash. No brittle silence thick enough to feel from the hallway, just the murmur of daytime telly, Gloria’s dry tone, and the faint clink of crockery from the kitchen.
She followed the sound, first with her eyes, then her feet, glancing into the kitchen as she passed. Matty was at the counter, sleeves shoved up, sunflower T-shirt bright under an old cardigan, cutting sandwiches into triangles with Sloan’s bread knife as though she’d been doing it for years.
Matty looked up. “Oh. Hiya.”
Sloan frowned. “What are you doing?”
“Making lunch.” Matty nodded towards the plate. “One for your mum, one for me, and now, apparently one for you.”
“I only came for my charger,” Sloan answered, suddenly feeling like a burden.
“Mm.” Matty set the knife down. “And because youdefinitelyweren’t worrying about leaving your mother with an untrained stranger.”
Sloan opened her mouth, then shut it again.
