Sharon’s back, altered in mind as well as body

Sharon’s back. As soon as I heard, I went straight round to the house and let myself in. She was standing in the kitchen wearing that deceptively vulnerable look that she has. Also in the room was a little girl aged about three with ruby red hair and a Boxer dog. The Boxer was built like Sonny Liston and capered before me. It span round in circles, glancing coquettishly over its shoulder. The little girl was my superior in intelligence and composure. I could see it straight away, as could she. Her name was Amy. Sharon and her partner had adopted her 18 months before. Sharon and Amy shared a companionable stillness that was unruffled by my appearance.

I hadn’t seen Sharon for six months. She was thinner than ever, which made her liquid eyes appear larger. (‘It’s all gone. She hasn’t even got an arse any more,’ was how Trev sorrowfully put it when we spoke on the phone later.)