There’s a softness to her voice, and an imbalance to her features that wasn’t there before. Her smile extends on only one side of her face; the other seems frozen. Nerve damage, Hilary concludes. Partial paralysis.

‘It’s weird being back here,’ Leah remarks, looking around at the walls and ceiling before her gaze comes to rest near the bottom of the stairs, the place where Anton fell. ‘I thought I would feel frightened. But it’s as if nothing ever happened here.’

Hilary nods. She has the same feeling. Something momentous happened in this space, and yet on this Thursday morning, the street quiet outside, it feels so ordinary and benign.

‘I kept thinking about this house, about what happened here, what he did to me,’ Leah tells her, ‘and every time I thought of it, I felt frightened. Don’t get me wrong – most of the time, I’m just so grateful to you that the outcome wasn’t different. The very fact that I’m alive, well, that’s what matters. But still.’ Her gaze flickers again around the stairs and hall. ‘This place has been haunting my thoughts, and I wondered if I came back here – if I saw it now without him in it – maybe I wouldn’t feel scared any more. Does that make sense?’

There’s an earnestness about her that Hilary finds moving. ‘Yes. Yes, it does,’ she says, and Leah nods, still serious.

Despite the delicacy of her features and the notable pallor of the convalescent, Hilary identifies a new steeliness in the young woman, a determination that wasn’t there before.

‘Will you come upstairs?’ Leah asks, already half turned, her foot on the bottom step.

‘All right.’

‘You’ll have to forgive the limp,’ Leah explains, climbing slowly and stiffly upwards. ‘I’m told it probably won’t be permanent, but it’s taking some getting used to.’

‘How are you doing, otherwise?’

‘I have some nerve damage in my back, my leg and my face, but you probably noticed that.’ She turns and offers her lopsided smile. ‘I get headaches, dizziness, but the blurred vision is gone, thank God. As for long-term damage, I don’t know. My doctor is noncommittal when I ask. For now, I’m just trying to take one day at a time.’