Elinor, bless her, believed in home comforts. It was a hard couch but the hot water bottle, held close to my mohair chest, was as effective as Nytol Herbal. The warmth flooded through me. This was a day I did not want to happen again. Speaking the lines of Twelfth Night were a reluctant joy but the circumstances had been a nightmare. I slid down into the deepest sleep, only remembering in the last seconds that I had not made my usual evening call to my mother. But she would soon find out why if she saw a newspaper. If she ever bought a daily newspaper, that is. ‘So this is where you’ve been hiding. Wake up, it’s morning.’ I knew the voice without opening my eyes. I was stiff and cold and the water bottle was clammy and like a rubbery fish. I let it fall to the floor. ‘Oh, so it’s you,’ I mumbled, scrabbling at the blanket. It barely covered my knees. ‘What are you doing here?’ ‘I looked for you last night.
