Josephine couldn’t sleep – it was a long time since she had slept through the night. Even sleeping tablets didn’t work any more. She had her own bedroom now. When Michael was out all hours, she didn’t have to go to bed without him and pretend everything was OK. She could come in here and watch her TV programmes, sit in peace surrounded by her private things – her ‘knick knacks’, as Jessie called them. Though they weren’t really knick knacks as such. The boxes she kept in here were full of important papers and magazines. She also had all of her daughter’s school work from the first day she had attended – all her pictures, drawings, report cards. She even had the wrappers from sweets her daughter had eaten over the years. She couldn’t part with them. Michael didn’t think keeping everything Jessie had ever touched was normal. She didn’t care. He didn’t understand the bond between a mother and her child. She had every item of clothing that her daughter had worn. It was boxed up now, of course, washed and ironed. She knew exactly where everything was – every Babygro, every bib, everything she had kept she could find should she wish to.

Her bed was a double, with an antique mother-of-pearl headboard, and crisp white linen. There was no other furniture in here now, except for her chair and her TV. She didn’t need anything else; she was quite happy to give the extra room over to her boxes of memories.

Sitting in here she was surrounded by her whole life. Michael hated it. He felt she dwelt too much on the past, when she should be enjoying the present or looking forward to the future. It was hard for him to understand how attached she was to her treasures. He was different to her; his life was mainly lived outside the house – he was always off somewhere – and he wanted her to be the same. Her journeys out into the world were getting rarer and rarer; she preferred the comfort and safety of her own home. She didn’t drive much any more either, she only got into the car if she had to for her daughter’s benefit. She knew, deep inside, that she was gradually becoming even more of a recluse, but she didn’t care. She had all she needed here in her own home.