Was she ready? A month ago, she would probably have just shaken her head in despair at the thought of returning to her old life. When her father had driven down to London to retrieve her things from Dominic’s flat, she had been unable to deal with any of it and had just left it all piled up in the spare room. Then, a couple of days ago, inspired by Evelyn’s sterling efforts at her house, Pip had gone into the room to sort it all out.

Dominic had clearly paid someone to pack it all up for him. Her clothes were in clear plastic sleeves, her shoes and toiletries neatly wrapped in tissue paper and boxed. It was almost like Christmas, unwrapping each item, except Pip had anticipated no joy in the task. With every unravelling, she expected to feel a little sadder, a little less in control of her future. But actually, as she held the tokens of who she had been in her hands, all she could do was marvel at how far she had come.

If you had asked her before the accident what her favourite possession was, her answer would have been quick and assured. Her first pair of Louboutins. She remembered now how she used to take them out of the box just to gaze at them and stroke their red undersides. But when she had dug them out and held them in front of her, like Dorothy with her ruby slippers, all she saw was a pair of nice but stupidly overpriced shoes, and nothing more. She could wear them in the farmhouse in full confidence that neither of her parents would have the first idea what they represented. Evelyn would be the same, and would probably have scoffed at this Rose who had attached so much significance to such status symbols. Pip thought she might think like that as well, if she were ever introduced to the person who had been Rose.

She had hung her clothes up in the wardrobe, ready for when she went back to work, and left the shoes in their boxes. Instead of being desperately sad, or even scary, she had found it cathartic. It was just stuff – nice stuff, granted, but just stuff nonetheless. None of it really mattered. None of it was actually what was important.

And now she needed to find somewhere to live. The trouble was that flats in the areas she thought she wanted to be, where she had lived with Dominic, were just so expensive. There was no way she could afford to live there on her own. She sat back in her chair and puffed out a huge and dejected sigh just as her mother walked into the room.

‘What’s up?’ her mother asked.

‘Flats in London are ridiculously expensive,’ Pip said.