I creep down the last three stairs and push open the door to the living room with my toes. He’s sitting in his favourite chair. His eyes are black flints, and I know every scrap of his pent-up anger is going to be directed at me. All I can think is that I need to keep the situation as calm as possible until I can get help.

‘When did you get out?’ I ask, hating myself for the shake in my voice.

‘As if you care.’

‘Ian, I am genuinely sorry that they thought you’d killed me. I knew nothing about it because I was locked in a cellar, working as a skivvy in someone else’s house.’ I’m not intending to tell him that I believed I had killed him. ‘As soon as I found out, I went to the police.’ This isn’t entirely true but close enough.

Ian says nothing. He just scowls.

‘Would you like some coffee?’ I ask, thinking that the only way to get through this is to try to be civilised until I can get dressed, get out of the house and work out – all over again – what I’m going to do.

‘Yes. And make me a sandwich. I haven’t eaten – the food in prison is shit.’

‘I’ll get dressed after my coffee and go shopping.’ I’m keeping it normal. I need to be able to walk out of that door and have him believe I’m simply popping out to get him something to eat.

I manage to walk past him without getting close enough for him to touch me. It would be beyond my acting ability not to flinch if he did. The door between the kitchen and the living room stands open, and Ian starts to talk – or rather to shout, as he has his back to me. To my horror he is talking as if we are going to carry on living together – as if the events of the last few weeks have never happened. He’s telling me I’d better get myself another job sharpish, and I need to get on to the police to see about getting the car back. He is enjoying the knowledge of what these words will be doing to me.

I switch the kettle on, not responding to a word he says. Then, from nowhere, I hear another voice in my head, one I want to forget.

Some people don’t deserve to live, Judith. They occupy space on this earth and give nothing in return. You know who I mean. What does he bring to this world?

I didn’t have an answer then, and I have less of one now. But the voice won’t be quiet.