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this?’
    ‘He was just so, like, insisting . As if I was trying to stop him doing something important.’
    Angus risked a glance. Olivia was scowling, but not in her usual determined way. Her mouth looked soft and uncertain.
    ‘And usually he only has a little nap, ten minutes, or maybe fifteenminutes, and then he drives me home. Today he’d been asleep for nearly an hour when I rang you.’
    Maybe he’s having a heart attack, Angus worried. Didn’t people get disoriented just before they had a heart attack? Or was that a stroke? Maybe his father-in-law had gone to lie down and had a stroke. Had fallen out of bed and couldn’t call for help.
    ‘Maybe we should go back there for a tick. I think I should look in on him.’
    ‘I already did, Dad, twice. Once before I rang you and then just before you drove up. He was sleeping perfectly normally. Normal breathing and all that. His face was, you know, the right colour.’
    ‘Good for you, Ol.’
    ‘Yeah. I did that first aid course, remember? But I… I think Mum should know.’
    ‘I’ll tell her. You want me to tell her? Or would you rather?’
    ‘No, you can, Dad. If you don’t mind, that is?’
    ‘Course not. Happy to.’
    Olivia turned back to the dogs then, chatting animatedly, admonishing them. Her face relaxed. That’s twice she’s asked me to do something! It seemed his self-contained, resourceful daughter had decided something was happening with her grandfather that she didn’t want to tackle alone. She wanted her parents to handle it. Angus had a sudden thought, like a needle-prick: I hope we’re up to the job.
    Deborah didn’t get home till nearly dinnertime. Angus poured her a glass of the sauvignon blanc he’d been holding back from opening till she got home, and she perched on the stool at the island bench, sipping, as he chopped vegetables and told her Olivia’s story about Alex. But not that Olivia had asked him to tell her. Nor did he describe his own stab of doubt about whether they could manage it. Whatever it was.
    ‘I’ll call him,’ Deborah said. ‘Make sure he’s okay.’
    ‘Yeah, good. But don’t mention that Ollie said anything, okay?’
    ‘God, Angus, as if I would!’
    Alex sounded perfectly chipper, hearty even, telling her there was nothing like a good day’s work in the garden, can’t beat it. Listening to him, Deborah felt relief wash over her. Her mouth filled with saliva as her throat and jaw relaxed and it startled her to realise how tight they’d been. God, I’m like this half the bloody time these days , she thought.
    ‘That’s beaut, Dad. Listen, I was just ringing to tell you that when I was out walking today I remembered who Jeannie is.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Jeannie. She was one of the ladies who helped look after us. When we were kids. I think,’ and Deborah gave a quick, light laugh, no big deal , ‘I think she might’ve been one of your girlfriends.’
    ‘Girlfriends? What are you talking about, Deb?’
    ‘Well, never mind that. But Jeannie, that’s who she is. Was. Mrs Thornbury. No, Thornton. Jean Thornton.’
    ‘Jean Thornton…’ Her father repeated slowly, but there was no sound of recognition in his voice.
    ‘You rang me just this morning, Dad. You wanted to know if I knew when her birthday was. Jeannie.’
    ‘Did I, love? Oh… that’s right. Of course. Jeannie, that’s right.’
    ‘But I don’t know when her birthday is.’
    ‘Well, that’s all right, darling. Don’t you worry about it. I’ll… get in touch with her another time.’
    They said their goodbyes and Deborah hung up. She stood staring at the phone for some time, her back to Angus, then raised the glass to her mouth and finished off the wine in one big gulp. She keyed in another number. It rang and rang and finally went to message.
    ‘James, hi, it’s Deb,’ she said. ‘Listen… um, can you call me when you get in, or first thing tomorrow? I’ve just been talking to Dad, and… I dunno, I just think something’s