Gradually, insidiously, the kitchen had become the only room in the house that was truly mine. Even my books had been relegated to the spare room. But here I could do what I wanted, decorate it however I liked. Over the years, though, cooking changed from a pleasure to a chore, something I really enjoyed only when Josh, my teenage stepson, came to stay.

Standing in the kitchen for what might be the last time, I panicked and for one mad moment I wondered whether I should cook something for Tom’s dinner. He probably would have eaten it, too. Of course, I didn’t. It would be too weird. What would I cook, anyway? An everyday dish to remind him what he wouldn’t have again? Something special for a momentous occasion?

What I should have been cooking was written on a notepad on the fridge door. Every week Tom put together a list of meals. Tonight’s was Thai curry. My hands were damp with stress as I opened the fridge door and saw all the ingredients there, waiting. That curry hadn’t a chance of being made now. There was plenty of food, though; it wasn’t as though he’d starve, and the wine rack held dozens of bottles. There would be fewer tomorrow morning, I knew.

I walked from room to room, running through my mental checklist, double-checking I’d taken everything I needed. It was as though I was leaving a holiday home, a place I’d always known I would leave one day. Though I’d lived here for nearly twelve years, now I could see how little space I’d taken up.

On the mantelpiece in the living room was a recent photo of Josh; his expression made it clear he hadn’t wanted his dad to photograph him. Another was of the three of us, taken at Disney World on our first holiday together when Josh was seven. I’d been with Tom for two years then. Josh was beaming at the camera in this earlier photo and I looked happy, too. Well, I was, then. I reached out to touch it. My face in the photo was unlined, free from worry. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt like that. A couple of days before, when Tom was in the shower, I photographed the recent photo, then zoomed in on Josh’s face in the earlier one and clicked. I planned to get copies printed as soon as I could.