We had them over for lunch today, your tenants. Jake’s a bit of a bore, but there is something intriguing about Leah. I can understand your interest – your fascination, my love. But I have to tell you how it pained me to hear her speak of you with barely disguised affection, your little defender. Don’t you know how it hurts me to think of you engaging with her, the young woman in your basement flat, knowing I was that young woman once? Surely you can understand how easy it would be for me to jump to the wrong conclusions, conjure up images of romance between the two of you, even though, in my heart, I know you would never betray me. I know that you’re just testing me, that she means nothing to you really. All of this would be so much easier, my love, if you would just reach out to me. Give me the sign. We agreed to wait but for how long? When will enough time have passed for you to deem it safe for us to reveal our love?

Leah reads quickly, putting the page down and snatching up another, scanning the text for her own name, a dark feeling opening inside her at her own presence within these letters.

I saw you tonight, in your garden – the two of you. Caught together in your cosy corner. This has to stop, my love. She needs to go.

The next letter then:

I saw you, Anton! I saw you and her in the window of your bedroom. For one horrible moment, I thought it was Charlotte up there, back from the dead, and that you were being tender towards her, like you actually cared for her instead of hating her! But then I realized it was Leah, your little friend, your little ingénue! Parading her in your dead wife’s clothes in the window of your bedroom! You knew I could see, didn’t you? Why are you torturing me like this? Why are you punishing me, after all I’ve done for you, after all I’ve given up? I want you to get rid of her, Anton, or I swear I don’t know what I’ll do!

The numbness has spread up Leah’s arms and legs, as if all the nerves are frozen. She looks at the letter, the way the biro has bitten into the page, imagines the force and frenzy involved in the writing. She puts it down and stares sightlessly about her.