The shower beats down on my head, and I lift my face to the water, feeling hot spikes prick my skin. I want to release the tight knot of tension that is gripping me, and I feel a stab of nausea every few minutes at the thought of Ian’s body, the blood gushing from the wounds where I must have hit him with the claw hammer. Each time I visualise the scene it is different. I know I’m imagining how it must have been, painting a picture of what I did, but I have to invent the images because I can’t remember.

Before another thought can hit me, I switch the shower to cold. I want to suffer, and I hold my breath as the icy water stings my flesh. For the first time in days I begin to feel alive, and I know that for my own sanity I need to focus – to plan what I am going to do. I stand under the freezing water for as long as I can bear it, and then step out and rub my skin vigorously with the thin towel.

Within seconds, though, my determination crumbles as I see a future ahead of me that holds no hope. I feel the tears welling up again and hurry back towards my room. But before I get there I see Judith and another woman walking towards me from the bottom of the stairs that lead up into the house. Both of them are moving slowly, lethargically, their heads bowed. This must be the woman who occupies the other room, but why do they live down here too?

I don’t know which of them the photo of Paul belongs to, but I’m relieved I managed to return it to its hiding place. If I am to find out anything, I mustn’t antagonise either of them. I brush away the tears with the heel of my hand.

‘Hi,’ I say, doing my best to offer a friendly smile but knowing it’s a poor, shaky effort.

They raise their heads slowly and gaze at me. The younger of the two – Judith – looks slightly puzzled, as if she has forgotten I’m here, but finally nods her head in acknowledgement. I turn my attention to the other woman. Her shoulders are hunched, her eyes red-rimmed, and there is not a flicker of interest in her gaze as she shuffles to the kitchen and starts laying out bowls and spoons.

There is so much I want to ask them, so much I’m confused about. Do they know what I’ve done? But I stand, saying nothing, watching while Judith heats a pan of soup and the other woman pours glasses of water from a jug.