They had loved each other once, Jake and Jenna. Leah knows that much. Too young to withstand the pressures of an unplanned pregnancy. But surely there must still be times when he remembers the early days of their love. And when he does remember, perhaps, occasionally, the memories are tinged with regret. The siren song of what might have been.

The steady patter of water continues in the background, as she puts her phone down. The house is so quiet. Apart from the rain, there is no noise from upstairs.

It is only now, as her gaze drifts outside to the garden once more, that she realizes the paving slabs on the patio are dry. Beyond, the trees are still, no dripping leaves, no dusting of raindrops on the furniture outside. There are no rivulets tracking down the French windows. It is perfectly dry outside. Yet she can hear water running – she is sure of it.

Listening acutely, she tries to reorient herself. It seems to be coming from Matthew’s room. Using her phone as a torch, Leah pads across the floor, and when she opens the door and shines the light inside, water is streaming down the walls. The little bed is soaked through, the duvet and pillows sodden and dark. Quickly, she pulls it away from the wall, and cries out with alarm to feel the water pooling on the boards beneath her feet. Directing the torchlight of her phone to the ceiling, she sees an ugly brown stain spreading through the plasterwork, small chinks appearing before her eyes as new leaks break through.

Hurrying back into the kitchen, she grabs saucepans from the shelf, and hastens back to the little bedroom, placing them underneath the worst of the leaks, but it’s difficult in the darkness to see where the water is coming from and the rapid flow frightens her.

Quickly now, she goes outside, climbs the run of steps that leads up to the back door and starts banging.

‘Anton?’ she calls, pausing to look up at the house.

All the windows are dark. She hammers again, then presses her face to the glass, trying to see inside, but there are only shadows and the distant sound of running water. It is clear that the source of her leak is within the upstairs rooms of the house.

Back downstairs, she races through the flat, alarmed at the spread of water fanning out across the floor from Matthew’s room, and goes out through the front door. But all the windows to the front of the house are dark, too, and when she bangs on the knocker and yells through the letterbox, only silence greets her, the house implacably closed to her.