I hoped I didn’t sound too elated at the prospect but she seemed not to notice. “I am being, have been”—she struggled with her tenses—“out of here and down the stairs and I am not dead, no, I am still here, I am survivor. One day, if I am being very strong and brave, I will go down again and a taxi will be there and you will help me walking over little bit of path onto little bit of street and into the taxi!”

“You’re doing very well, Liv,” Silver said, grabbing a towel and wrapping it modestly around himself. “Where’s this taxi going to take you?”

“To Sweden. To my home. But not yet. Yet I am not ready. First I am giving my papa the money to take home and then I am following him when I am brave and strong enough.”

English is peculiar in this usage it has of continuous present and continuous future tenses. They’re probably not called that but my husband isn’t here to set me right. Silver could have told me. But while I was writing it I never showed him my diary. Whether Liv meant she had given her father the money or intended to give it to him was unclear. But she was sure he’d consent to go home and take the money with him, provided she promised to follow.

“But why not just go with him?” I said. I should have known better.

“Because I am telling you I am not ready, Clodagh. I am not so brave yet. You know that I am having agoraphobia, it is not so easy to—to—”

“Overcome,” said Silver. “Conquer.”

“Yes, conquer. One day I am conquering and then I will go. First I am glad to take away the money and Jonny cannot find.”

We got her back into her room and then we went to bed, but first we looked out of the window we usually climbed out of and from which most of the back of Torrington Gardens could be seen. The fire was out and the smoke was all gone. Down in the garden pale-faced dahlias had closed their petals for the night. The grass was growing long and it was time for one of Beryl’s sons to come and mow it. Silver and I lay in bed and discussed the question of the occupants of the top flat at 4 Torrington Gardens. If they were who we thought they were, the time had come to make ourselves known to them. They had friends, notably “Robinson,” who must have lent or let the flat to them, and who must know their identity, but had they any others? If they had, if they had someone looking after them, would Andrew have risked discovery by going out shopping?