Arthur made tea before he explained. On the day her mother died, the hospital cleaner had found him sitting beside a vending machine, unable to remember which car park he had used. She had finished her shift and walked him to the right entrance.
“Her name was Leila,” he said. Nora remembered a woman bringing water to the family room. She had never asked her name.
Leila had mentioned that her daughter’s coat had torn. Not as a request; it came up while they waited for a lift. Three days later Arthur bought a replacement and left it with reception.
“Then why all the bus tickets?” Nora asked. He looked towards the cupboard. The coat, she realised, was only the beginning.
