Kicking the door shut behind me with my heel, I walk through the hallway, gazing around as if I’m seeing it for the first time. It’s smaller than I remembered, I smile, but it feels so good to be home again. Placing the cases gently down on the floor, I wander into the sitting room, my eyes eagerly taking in every little detail. Nothing has changed, I’m relieved to see.

Mum’s been in regularly and the framed photos capturing those most treasured of moments – our wedding day, anniversaries, Christmas and birthday parties – are dust-free. I pick up the most recent one; the party we had here in the house before Aiden and I set off on our adventures. Steve from next door stood on a chair and marshalled us all into a tight group so we didn’t spill out of the shot. So many smiling faces, so many people with their arms wrapped around each other as he kept shouting ‘closer, closer’. This is my life, I reflect, feeling more like a voyeur picking up someone else’s photograph.

Mum’s taken care of this house in the way that I do, keeping it ready for our return in the belief that we’d get through it. I will admit, though, that for one moment there even I began to have my doubts.

My favourite photo stares back at me from the bookcase, making my heart constrict. I caught Aiden sitting out on the patio, reading a report he’d brought home from work. He’s in side profile and had no idea I was watching him.

It’s not the same when you’re not here, my inner voice speaks to him. I’m scared that I’m not the same any more and I won’t know for sure until you come back to me.

A loud click makes me turn around, anxiously staring into the doorway. Suddenly, Owen appears, and I wonder if I’m daydreaming.

‘F… Fern?’ he stutters.

‘Owen. What are you doing here?’

‘I was about to ask you the same thing.’

My heart starts to thud in my chest as I notice he’s wearing a sling.

‘What have you done to your arm?’ I demand, attempting to hug him while trying to avoid the plaster cast.

‘A war wound,’ he declares, as he flashes an annoyingly cheesy grin. I burst out laughing, despite my concern. Then I scowl at him, wondering when exactly he was going to tell me about his accident.

‘So, how did this happen?’ I indicate to the cast poking out of Owen’s sleeve.

‘I tripped over my own feet, but it’s only a broken wrist. The embarrassment and heckling I got from my mates was way worse than the injury. Another week and the cast will be coming off.’

‘But why are you staying here and not with Mum and Dad?’