Just as I’ve locked the front door I suddenly realize I’ve left the bathroom window upstairs open. Earlier I’d noticed that if someone was able to get onto the roof just below it they could easily reach up to the sill and clamber in. And given Sabine’s ex’s temperament I decide to go back in and shut it. There’s a puddle on the floor, the rain must have shifted, and I mop it up and then make my way out into the city.

I keep expecting to feel anger, but everything around me is distant somehow, like I’m not part of it. Shock can be like that, a cocoon that separates you from the world. As I walk to the station the city seems alien. Another time, another place, but with me as spectator. Raindrops prickle the skin of my face. I’ve been through this before, though, and I made it out. Just.

The question is, do I have enough left to do it again?

It’s not long before I’m soaked to the bone. I think I should go home and change, before the thudding reality hits me that I now have no home. I’ve lost everything, clothes included, and for a moment I’m caught in a vortex of dizziness.

Once it’s passed I buy some clothes and a raincoat, stuffing my wet gear into the plastic bag offered, and then duck into a small coffee place on Runstraat. Once I’ve drained half the cup, the hot liquid only partly warming me up, I start to feel a little better, so I pull out the phone and make the call I’ve been putting off. But the electrician doesn’t answer. I leave a message asking him to call me urgently. Then I tackle my voicemail, of which there are plenty. The last is from someone called Theo Veldt. He’s the fire investigator assigned to the case and says he’ll be there at midday, if I’d like to meet him there. I’m not sure I can face it. I know that he’s going to find it was the electrics. I must have left something on and condemned Kush to his death.