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the bathroom floor.’
    She blinked her glassy grey eyes. ‘Was I?’
    â€˜That’s why they brought you here in an ambulance.’
    â€˜An ambulance? I don’t remember that.’
    â€˜Just let him give you a drip, will you?’ Henry said gently. He sat by the bed, taking her other hand. She squeezed it and looked at him, then smiled as if she was having everybody on. Then she presented the back of her hand to the doctor.
    An hour later she was asleep. Henry was talking in hushed tones to the doctor.
    â€˜She’s actually very ill and she has had a major heart attack, believe it or not. If she hadn’t been found . . .’ The doctor let Henry finish that sentence.
    â€˜OK, what’s the plan?’
    â€˜The next twenty-four hours will be critical . . . once we get beyond that we’ll have to look closely at the care she’ll need.’
    The conversation lasted a few more minutes and didn’t fill Henry with any great hope. He sat at the bedside and simply stared at his mother’s ashen face, more thin and wrinkled than usual because her false teeth were smiling at him from a glass on the cabinet. He knew she was in trouble.
    Kate’s gentle touch made him look around. She handed him a cup of tea she’d cadged from a nurse and pulled a chair up beside him, resting a hand on his leg.
    Henry pulled a face that could have been jokey or desperate, he wasn’t sure which. Part of him felt hysterical, another part completely lost. Kate moved her warm hand from his leg and clasped it over the back of his hand, her shining, probing eyes showing deep concern for the man she had loved – on and off – for twenty-odd years. Henry raised his face and caught her expression, then out of the corner of his eye he saw his mother move and groan. When he looked properly, wondering if she had woken – she hadn’t – she seemed to be nothing any more, just a ghost. Now he truly realized what the phrase ‘a shadow of your former self’ could mean.
    It hit him like a sucker punch.
    He swallowed, but could not hold it back. He began to cry.
    Kate hugged him tightly until the body-jerking sobbing had subsided. Then, faintly embarrassed by his less than macho display, he disengaged himself gently from Kate’s embrace, stood up and crossed to a sink. He swilled his face with cold water and rubbed himself dry with rough paper towels.
    â€˜Got a dribbly nose,’ he said with a sniff and a rueful laugh. ‘Sorry about the blubbering.’ He pouted with his bottom lip just in time to catch a wet drip from the end of his nose.
    â€˜It’s OK,’ Kate said with a sad smile. ‘It’s what I’m here for.’
    They held each other for a few seconds, then Henry felt his mobile phone vibrate in his trouser pocket and eased himself free again with a muted apology. Rik Dean’s name lit up the caller ID.
    â€˜I told them not to call me,’ he whined.
    â€˜It’s fine,’ Kate assured him. ‘Answer it – it might keep your mind off things.’
    He gave her a weak smile, stubbed his thumb on the disconnect call button. ‘I’ll call him back from the corridor. Here’s not the place.’ He glanced guiltily at the wall notice clearly indicating that mobile phones were not allowed.
    Once in the corridor he returned Rik Dean’s call. The DI informed him about the supermarket raid and the fact that a guard had been shot and was now in hospital. A short while later he went back inside and whispered to Kate.
    â€˜That’s handy,’ she said ironically.
    â€˜Life’s full of good surprises. I’ll bob down and see Rik and see what’s happening.’ He turned to his mother and looked at her for a few seconds, composing himself with a jerky inward sigh. He touched the back of her bony, liver-spotted hand, then left the unit, striding towards A&E. On the way he met Rik Dean,