We all laughed. That’s the thing I keep going back to. We sat in that living room on the twenty-fifth of December, 2025, and we all laughed.
My dad said it was a scam and that they sell your data. My mum said it was a waste of forty-nine pounds each.
And my grandmother, who was in the good chair by the radiator, went the colour of putty.
I noticed. I was the only one who did, because everybody else was looking at Britta.
I said, « Nan? You all right? »
And Aldith Mercer, who is eighty-four and has never in her life been at a loss, said, « It’s warm in here, » in a room where my mother had been complaining about the draught for an hour.
I thought she was having a funny turn. I got her a glass of water.
The results came back on Sunday the eighth of February.
