Chapter TenI haven’t heard from Daisy yet.
It’s Christmas Eve today, and it’s been a whirlwind of a holiday so far. Yesterday, Jenna was rushed to hospital.
It all started when we were watching some black-and-white Christmas film that Jenna insisted on having on. Dad was asleep, snoring in his armchair, empty beer cans scattered around his feet, as usual. Mum was in the kitchen, cleaning and faffing, as usual. Jenna and I were sat together on the two-seater: me on my phone, Jenna engrossed in the TV.
Her hair is patchy now, after two rounds of chemotherapy. After the first time only a few strands would fall out at a time, mainly when she brushed it or in the shower. It used to really upset her. Now, she tucks her fallen strands under different hats and makes Roscoe wear them, takes phot
