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“My husband, God rest his soul, had the foresight to buy two burial plots many years ago. But when he passed, those scamming bastards at the cemetery charged me $5,000 to dig the hole, and another $2,000 for his headstone. Highway robbery if you ask me. I had to sell his beloved Kingswood, the work ute and most of his tools to raise the money to pay for everything, including his casket and the service.”

“That’s bullshit,” I say.

“You’re telling me. I hate leaving this extra burden on my sweet girl. Tell her not to worry about a headstone or anything fancy. I don’t need any of it.”

“I’ll help as much as I can.”

“No, you will not! You’re saving for a ring, which is more important. Have you got an idea what kind you’d like to get her?”

“None whatsoever.”

“She’s a simple girl, so don’t get her anything too extravagant. She’d care more about the meaning behind it than the price tag. She doesn’t need nice things to make her happy. She’s always been that way.”

“If I pull up some pictures online, do you think you could help me find something she might like?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

I exit the jeweller carrying a small blue gift bag, and I’m starting to wonder if I need to make an appointment with a psychiatrist.

Lying to Poppy’s grandmother was one thing, but now it seems I’m living that lie. Because I just purchased the ring Nanna helped me pick out yesterday, and I’m on my way to the hospital to show her.

Somebody hand me a straitjacket.

Half an hour later, I’m smiling like a fool, or possibly an insane person, as I step off the lift when it arrives on Nanna’s floor.

That same nervous energy I felt when the sales assistant boxed up the single solitaire diamond ring at the store returns as I make my way to her room.

When I bought it, I knew it wasn’t a ring I was ever going to give Poppy. Not because I didn’t think she deserved it, but because that wasn’t what this was.

I bought it for her grandmother. For the happiness I know it’ll bring her in a time when she needs it most.

That’s all this is.

At least, that’s what I’m telling myself as I walk down the hallway with the ring box shoved deep in my pocket.

I push open Nanna’s door, already picturing the look on her face when I show her the ring. The smile and excitement in her eyes, but the second I step inside, I stop dead in my tracks.

The room is empty.

For a moment, I just stand here, waiting for my brain to catch up. The bed is stripped, the chair beside it is gone, and the few personal items that made this room hers have disappeared. There’s no bag sitting beside the bed, no colourful crochet blanket draped across it, no glasses resting on the nightstand.

Nothing.

A chill runs down my spine because everything about this feels wrong. I glance back towards the hallway, at the number beside the door, convinced for a second that I’ve somehow walked into the wrong room.

But I haven’t.

I step further inside, my eyes moving around the space, searching for a logical explanation.

Maybe she’s gone for a procedure.

Maybe she’s having a test or a scan.

Maybe she’s been moved to another part of the hospital.

Yes, that’s all this is, I tell myself, ignoring the sinking feeling in my gut that is screaming something else.

I turn and head back down the hallway, my chest tightening with every step until I reach the nurses’ station. “Excuse me,” I say, forcing the words out. “The woman who was in bed 10, where is she?”