Rain distorted the image, but there was a figure submerged in the darkness. A man. Sporting a dark anorak. His face concealed by an oversized hood. But he didn’t appear to register me. Which led me to conclude that I was being paranoid.

I treated myself to a minicab from the station. Although it was only a five-minute walk away, the incident had left me edgy, so I called Dale to see if he’d come and meet me, but he wasn’t answering. I was desperate to be safe and cosy. For him to listen to my neurotic ramblings and make me a cup of tea.

Entering the house, it was unlit and felt no warmer than outside. I expected to see the line of light under Dale’s door, but it was absent. As was the comforting sound of shooting and zombie deaths.

I hadn’t been using my room much and it felt unlived in, abandoned. Cold air laced with mustiness. I removed some crisp, dried knickers from the radiator. The ridged metal was lukewarm at best, so I dragged out the small electric fan heater from under the bed. Blocking the image of the suitcase from my mind.

Once plugged in, the warm stream smelt of burning dust. But I didn’t switch it off. I was too wet and cold to worry about fire hazards. Shivering as I climbed out of my sodden clothes, the contrast of the now hot blast made every hair on my skin stand to attention.

I collected my dressing gown from the floor, wrapped myself up and sat on the bed, wondering where Dale had got to. I called him again. This time he picked up.

‘Hey. Where are you? I’m home now . . . I’ve been trying to get hold of you.’

I could barely hear his response. The combination of broken signal and pounding rain meant I could only catch snippets, such as ‘shop’, ‘pizzas’, ‘couldn’t’, ‘nearly’. After a prolonged silence, I realized the call had dropped.

I remained still, just enjoying the warmth against my legs. Momentarily pushing away all the shitty events of the day. But as Mum would say, I was cold to the bone, so was contemplating getting up to make a cuppa when I heard a key in the door and the weather forcing its way into the hallway, stopping dead with a slam.

‘Bloody hell, it’s mental out there,’ came Dale’s voice.

‘Where’ve you been?’ I shouted back.

He mumbled something about putting the stuff in the kitchen. I left my room and followed the sound.

‘They had a two-for-one on pizzas, so thought we could have that tonight.’ I could hear him in the kitchen.

My bare feet suffered shocks with each step along the vinyl hallway floor. I stopped at the doorway. The tiles in there would be even worse.