The candles flicker as if a gust of wind has hit the wicks, and light momentarily flashes onto the water. I stare in horror, unsure for a moment what I am seeing.

The bath water is red. Blood-red. I glance to where my clothes are piled on the floor. My cream-coloured jumper seems to be covered in something dark. It looks black in this light, but I know what it is. Blood.

I lift my arms clear of the water. There’s not a mark on me, apart from the cut on my hand from earlier. But the plaster is holding firm, and I’m sure it can’t be that. One by one I lift my legs, exploring my body for signs of injury, but I can find none. So where am I hurt? I rub my fingers over my scalp, but I feel no pain. Where has all this blood come from?

I look at Thea. ‘What’s happened?’

She tries to shush me again, but I need to know.

‘Tell me, please, Thea.’

I realise she’s kneeling on the floor, and that can’t be comfortable for a woman of her age. She struggles to her feet, using the lip of the old-fashioned bathtub for help, then goes to sit on a chair. Her face is in shadow. I can’t see her. I can only hear her words.

‘I found you outside again, my dear. You took my car, and we didn’t know you’d gone. It was only when you came back that I woke up, and I found you like this.’

‘Am I hurt?’

‘Not that I can see, no. But there was a lot of blood on your clothes and on you. It had soaked right through.’

‘I don’t remember. Thea, I don’t remember!’ I realise I’m starting to panic. What have I done? Where have I been?

There is a gentle knock on the door, and I hear the doctor’s voice. ‘Thea, a word, please,’ he says softly, as if there is someone in the house that he is scared of waking.

‘I’ll be back in a moment. You just relax,’ Thea says as she slips out of the door.

I hear frantic whispering. I can’t make out what they are saying, but I can tell by the inflection in Thea’s voice that she’s asking questions. After no more than two or three minutes, she comes back into the bathroom.

‘What?’ I ask rudely.

She comes over to the bath, and I feel self-conscious again, although given that she obviously stripped me it’s a bit late for modesty. Thea is looking down at me, the candlelight casting strange shadows on her face. Her eyes seem lost in sunken hollows, and I can’t guess what she is thinking.