I extracted them. Remained on the toilet for some time, clutching them so hard their teeth dug into my palm.

‘Are you putting the kettle on?’ shouted Edward.

‘Yes,’ I yelled back.

I didn’t return them to the bag. I dropped them into my trouser pocket.

As I made Edward a cheese-and-pickle sandwich and an acceptable cup of tea, I deliberated about what to do with the keys. Reminded myself how wrong it was to have them. Concluded I should return them to the bag forever or throw them away. Yet I did neither.

‘Is that going to be enough for you?’ I said as I placed the sarnie on the arm of his chair.

‘I don’t even want this.’

‘You’ve got to eat, Edward.’

After trying to prise out of him when he was planning to go to bed so I could get him settled, tuck him in, he finally said, ‘I’m not a child. And besides, Maxine said I’m able to sort myself out.’

Trying not to feel hurt, mumbling under my breath about Maxine, I settled for filling a hot water bottle and secretly placing it between his covers, then left him to it.

Outside, at the top of the steps, I lit a cigarette and watched the white swirls evaporate into the freezing air. I checked my phone. It was coming up to seven, so I dialled Dale.

I’d planned to say I’d be home soon. Honestly I did. But it was as if the keys had taken possession of my brain, willing me to use them, and the actual words I spoke were, ‘He’s not good at all today, sorry. I won’t be too long, but I’ve got to see him into bed . . . I will, yeah . . . He’s seeing one this week . . . Well, I’m sorry. What am I supposed to do?’ While talking, I’d crossed the road. Gravitated towards your flat. And by the time I’d hung up, I was standing on your top step.

I flicked away the fag and crushed its corpse with my foot. Checked I was alone. Forgetting to breathe as I lifted the keys from my pocket with an unsteady hand. Then consciously inhaling, exhaling, before inserting one into the lock and twisting.

The door creaked open, inviting me to step over the threshold into your world, then clunked shut behind me like a locked prison cell.

I stood, taking in the hall. Now tinged with trespass, it was grander, foreboding.

My shoes squeaked against the polished tiles as I nervously walked over to the stairs, taking care not to slip as I ascended the curved stone. Reliving the last time. How you’d grabbed my hand when I’d misstepped, almost toppled backwards. Pulled me towards you, whispered sweet lies into my ear.