I woke at five the next morning, hardly knowing where I was. The early-morning sun crept through the thin curtains, lighting up the bedroom. In that light every single blemish could be seen, from the cracked plaster on the ceiling to the little rips in the wallpaper. A small silver cobweb hung in the corner of the room. My eyes fixed on the wardrobe. I could not remember hanging up those dresses. Then I thought of a movie I’d seen, Still Alice, about a woman suffering from early-onset dementia. I shuddered. That couldn’t be happening to me. I was just tired. I had too much on my mind. Too many worries. I must have hung up the dresses while I was thinking about the interview and that’s why I couldn’t remember doing it.

That made me think of the interview the previous day. Why had I been set up like that? I wondered whether it had been Kourtney O’Dwyer at the employment agency, making me suffer for my sins. Or Eleanor at Sheridan’s. The thought flashed through my mind that it might be Harry, punishing me. I pushed hard against that thought. He wouldn’t do that. Why would he? I hadn’t done anything to harm him. But my eyes drifted up to the cobweb; I was unemployed and living in a run-down flat because of him. He’d had no reason to do that to me, but he’d still done it. Could he have taken it further? I jumped out of bed to stop myself thinking about it. It couldn’t have been Harry. He loved me. Or at least he had. I couldn’t bear to think he no longer did.

Last night had been the first night in a long time that I’d gone to bed stone-cold sober. Tom and I were more at ease with each other if we were tipsy and then at the hotel I’d had to drink so that I could sleep. But now it was time to change.

My running shoes lay on the floor in the corner of the bedroom. Harry and I had planned to run together in the park that summer and I’d packed them into my car, eager for my new life with him. As soon as I saw them I knew what I was going to do. I was going to go back to being the woman I was more than thirteen years ago, before I met Tom. Before I met Harry.

•   •   •

My street was quiet when I left the flat. I’d thought the shop on the corner would be open, the owner getting newspapers ready for the day ahead, but it was in darkness and all was still.