“The smells ran instantly up my nostrils like some sort of acid vapour, taking my thoughts back several years to the morning we’d rocked up here after discovering Mum’d had that tumour in her chest. Doctors had said her prognosis was good. (Do they tell everyone that?) We’d pulled into the car park and Dad’d commented, ‘Oh well, it’s a nice view of the ocean at least.’ Like that’s all that mattered. Like we were having a snug little holiday by the sea. Like we were going to be enjoying the ocean views and the docks and the rolling coastline over bacon and eggs and buttered chemotherapy every fucking morning.”