I was hired to sit with a man the doctors said had five days left. One night I laid my teething baby on his chest — and his fingers moved. Then he whispered: don't tell anyone I'm awake.

The room we had was the small one at the end of the staff corridor, above the kitchen, so it was warm.

There was a bed and a chair and a chest of drawers, and I had put his travel cot between the bed and the window because that was the only place it fitted.

Two hundred and twenty a week and the room. That is the arrangement. It is legal and it is normal in that line of work and it means that the person who notices things in that house is also the person who lives in it on a week's notice.

That night I sat down next to him just to rest my arms.

Theodric was still crying. So without really thinking about it, I laid him on the sick man's chest for a few seconds.

The baby went to sleep almost at once, the way they do when there is a heartbeat under them.