I count the boxes. There are forty-three. Eleven years of marriage and one longed-for child and all I have left are forty-three cardboard boxes. How can this be my life?

I feel my chest tighten and I start to wheeze. I take my inhaler out of my bag and put it to my mouth. I inhale twice but my chest seems to get tighter. It must be the dust. I need to get out of here.

I stand up and make my way to the door but as I do I see something on the floor, just next to the first row of boxes. It’s an envelope. I pick it up. It has my name written on it in capital letters. I slice it open and pull out a piece of paper. It is Elspeth’s handwriting.

I rest my hand on the wall and begin to read:

Dear Mummy,

I’ve written you a poem. This is it:

When I think of home I think of you and me.

A warm cosy place, a place where I feel free.

I think of all the good times

That we would have in there.

A big lovely house, pretty and fair.

When I think of home, there’s water all around.

Running down the windows.

Rising up through the ground.

The river’s always flowing

Down towards the sea.

It’s carrying a secret.

That belongs to you and me.

I love you Mummy.

Xxx

I clutch the letter to my chest, the words searing into my heart. My beautiful little girl. I imagine her sitting at home, a notepad in front of her, writing a poem that I never got to read. I look at the envelope again. No postmark. She must have written this for me, but when? It looks like her handwriting from a couple of years ago. I think back to all those times I shooed her away when I was working in my study. I can hear her little voice now: ‘Mummy, can I just show you something?’ And I was so absorbed in my imaginary world I wouldn’t even turn round, wouldn’t look at her. ‘Mummy?’ ‘Not now, Elspeth, I’m busy.’ What if she’d tried to show me this poem, a beautiful poem about home and what it meant to her, and I’d sent her away? How did I become so detached? From the moment Elspeth was born I had wanted to shower her with love, create the warmest of homes for her, protect her from the monsters that had plagued me. And then somewhere along the line it all got too much and I retreated; from Elspeth, from Sean, from the world.

The air is growing thinner inside the room. I really do need to get out now. I take the letter, grab my bag and the key fob and pull the heavy door open.