She cried and wailed while she was stuffing in socks, jumpers, jeans and underwear, then she moved towards the bathroom and continued to drop things in, aftershave, body spray, hair gel – so many products. She looked at the towels on the rail. They would all have to go. She’d buy all new towels and sheets in the January sales. That thought made her cry even louder, so by the time she made her way into the living room, she was almost spent, just that racking, uncontrollable breathing that she’d perfected as a child and then stopped somewhere around the teenage years; she had forgotten that she could cry so much, but then, these were tears filled with rage as much for her own stupidity as they were for the loss of Eddie Quirke.

Finding little tell-tale signs, like Anya’s eye pencil buried between the cushions on the couch and a pink cigarette lighter tucked out of sight beneath the mattress on her bed, made her want to throw up. But it confirmed that Eddie had brought Anya here, probably on the nights when Liv had been working, and that hurt her even more. The idea that they would be here, together in her lovely flat; how on earth had she been so blind?

She would ring Maya on her first break. She’d rather wait, for another day or two, but Liv knew there was a good chance her mother would try to recreate Christmas Day when she got home at the end of the week and the last thing she wanted was the Quirkes looming like spectres on the other side of their family table.

She managed to make it to the hospital with seconds to spare. She’d left the flat with a line of black refuse bags taking up the tiny utility room. Later, tonight, she would take them to Eddie’s workshop and leave them there. Where he lived, or indeed how he lived, was no longer her concern. That thought gave her a huge pang of loneliness and yes, she hated herself all the more for it.

The truth was that after six years together, their lives had woven into each other; and then she shook herself out – because whose fault was that? It certainly was not Eddie Quirke’s. He may have lived in her flat for free, eaten the food she’d put in the fridge and allowed her to let him take her for a complete fool, but to be fair, he’d never made any promises. There had never been a declaration of any sort – love, lust or even enduring partnership of any kind.

But, he had taken everything she’d so willingly given and he must have known that in her mind things between them were very, very different to what they’d put into words.

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