When Dee began asking people to repeat themselves, and started saying ‘What?’ a lot, it took her a while to realise what was going on. With the kids left home, she was enjoying herself again. Sex was not a problem. Once you let men know you were available, they weren’t fussy. The best ones were short-sighted, and didn’t seem to mind varicose and thread veins, hairy chins and dyed hair. Plus, the fact that you couldn’t see further than them, seemed to be an advantage. They just wanted to know that the important parts were in working order. But when she couldn’t hear the phone in different parts of the flat, and missed the beginning and ends of words, she knew that joy was departing from her life. Birdsong. The doorbell. The music on Radio 3. The concerts she went to twice a year by the sea. The nuances of people’s words. Missing the joke. A gradual descent into silence...