“You smell like chocolate,” said the little girl, her eyebrows raised into a question mark. “This room smells like Brussels sprouts but you smell like chocolate but my Grandma smells like soup. Why?”

The little girl in her bright red dress and bright red shoes seemed at odds with the room, which was every shade of beige. A bunch of plastic flowers in a plastic vase stood on a table where an old beige lady in a brown dressing gown sat staring at an unfinished jigsaw puzzle.

The old lady squinted her eyes a little as if unsure if she were imagining the little girl, then carefully straightened the blanket on her knees and placed her hands neatly together on her lap. She wondered if her mind was finally playing tricks on her.

The little girl bounced around in front of her, shoes squeaking on the worn laminate.

“My Grandma smells like soup but my Grandpa doesn’t smell of anything because he died and went to heaven with his dog and we turned them both to dust and chucked them off the pier. Do you like dogs? I love dogs but mummy won’t let me have one because they cost a lot of money then they die.”

The little girl edged closer to the old lady’s chair, closed her eyes, and sniffed the air like a cartoon character.

“Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate. I. Can. Smell. Chocolate!”

The old lady tilted her head. Her croaky voice struggled to emerge from her throat.

“It smells like Brussels sprouts, my dear, because last night’s dinner was, allegedly, an attempt at vegetable lasagna. Pah!”

She pulled a face that reminded the little girl of a cabbage.

“It’s Doris over there in the corner,” the old lady said, raising a crooked finger.” She’s like a bottle with a loose cork this morning.”

The little girl glanced across the sea of white heads in Doris’s direction.

The old lady continued, her voice getting lost in her throat again.

“And yes, I do like dogs, thank you for asking. But I’m not allowed to have one in this place. . . not allowed much of anything in this place–”

“We’re looking for a new bedroom for Grandma because she’s sad and cries a lot because she’s lonely. That’s what Mummy says anyway. She says there’s no way on God’s earth she’s letting that old battle axe live with us. When she says bat–tle–axe her eyes open really wide like they’re going to pop out. What’s a battle axe?”

The old lady smiles at that, giving a knowing nod.

“I’m a battle axe.”

“Mummy says this is called a home for old people who are on their own and lonely. Like grandma. You must be lonely like my grandma. Do you have your own bedroom? How old are you? I bet you’re really really old like grandma. You have the same colour hair like candy floss and you both have wrinkly hands. Why do you smell of chocolate?”

The old lady breathed in deeply through her nose then back out again as if mentally turning the crank handle on an old engine.

The little girl played with the end of her plait.

“Did you have a grandpa with a dog and did they die? Is that why you’re here? Are you going to die soon?”

The old lady stared unblinking at the little girl for a while, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly.

“I’m here because I can’t manage the stairs anymore . . . and my daughter thinks I’m invisible.”

The little girl pouted and frowned for a second, then her eyes opened wide.

“What was your dog called? When I get grown up I’m going to have three dogs one called Peanut one called Marshmallow and one called Brian after my grandpa.

The little girl frowned and shook her head.

“I bet your dog was called Bertie or Alf. Old people always call their dogs silly names. My friend had a hamster called Pickle.”

The old lady leaned forward slightly and opened her mouth as if to speak, but the little girl continued without drawing breath.

“It was four years old. It died and they buried it in a shoe box at the bottom of the garden near the pond where the frogs live. I hate frogs. They’re slimy and they burp all the time. How rude.”

This made the old lady smile properly, lifting the wrinkles around her eyes.

“My dog was called Montgomery, and my husband was called Eddie. And yes, they’re both in heaven.” The wrinkles around her eyes tightened as she studied the little girl hopping from one foot to the other. “They’re waiting for me to join them.”

“Well you can’t join them right now because you’re talking to me. That makes us friends.”

The old lady slowly nodded and let the little girls words sit for a moment. She dabbed at her cheek with a hanky.

“Well,” she said, sitting a little straighter than she had for a while. “You’re right. I’ll hang about for a bit longer, then.”

She folded the top of her blanket over. Hearing a telltale crinkling sound, the little girl’s eyes widened.

“Was that a chocolate bar I heard?”

She took a big step forward and rested her head on the arm of the chair. Big brown eyes looked up at the old lady, lashes fluttering. The old lady covered the chocolate with the blanket.

“I didn’t mean your dog had a silly name really. I just like my names better. Do you like my names better? Can I have some of your chocolate?”

This time the old lady raised her eyebrows into a question mark. Well, several question marks. The little girl couldn’t take her eyes from the blanket.

“Pleeeease? It smells so good. Chocolate is my favourite thing in the whole wide world. Then dogs. Then strawberry milkshake.”

“Well, if we’re friends,” said the old lady, patting the arm of the chair. She unwrapped the chocolate and snapped off a couple of chunks, giving one to the little girl.

“You’re not invisible to me,” the little girl said as she popped it in her mouth. “You’re my new chocolate battle axe friend.”

Across the room Doris sunk a little lower in her chair, emitting a series of tiny squeaks.

“Sounds like we might have frogs in here,” said the old lady.

“How rude,” said the little girl.