Goodnight, IRENE by Salley Vickers

‘Watch yourself, right?’ the minicab driver said. He waited as Irene Stannard emerged slowly from his car, hoping, she could tell, for a tip. She fumbled in her bag and found some coins.

‘Happy Christmas, then.’ He sounded sullen. Perhaps the tip had not been enough.

Back inside her own home, she limped into the kitchen and put on the kettle before ringing her daughter.

She had tried to call Claire from A&E, but her mobile was annoyingly out of battery. Claire would tick her off for that. All her life she had been her own woman, managing a professional career and bringing up two children single-handedly. But lately her children had begun to faintly chide