Ruby takes a cup of tea back to bed. Here she can start the crossword and begin the day in a civilised manner. It’s the kind of crossword that is surrounded by adverts for reclining chairs and wool-lined slippers. Ruby knows not to press too hard with the pen or it’ll go straight through the paper. The pen is one of those that still writes even if you’re upside down. It was probably a birthday present, maybe from Derek. She props the pillows upright before she sits, lifts her legs one at a time, and settles back. Ruby doesn’t ache as much today as yesterday, but you can never be too careful. A family of sparrows are shouting at each other outside the window.

Someone has already half-finished the crossword. Ruby sighs. She’s going to have to say something to that man at the newsagents. She likes him a lot but, really. It’s not the first time this has happened. Someone is sneaking in, defacing magazines and sodding off without making a purchase. She looks at the cover – a moustache has been drawn on Victoria Beckham’s face. Next time she should check before she buys. Check for moustaches. Check for the defilement of her sacred crossword.

Ruby sips her tea and wonders what to do now. She hadn’t planned on this. Does she have a lie-in? She wonders if she should eat something and then she throws the bedcovers back, shuffles into her slippers and retrieves her ...