The black wolf shudders. It’s hungry. It needs the anger and the sorrow and the pain.

I turn away to the boxes and I find what I’m looking for quickly. There’s a desk and chair by the window and I take the book of Hank’s notes on the Muller case over and sit down. They’re handwritten, the letters slanting forward as if leaning into the wind. A few pages in I decide I’m going to need more time. Back downstairs Nellie’s sitting on the sofa, looking out at the water. The dog is right next to her, head resting on her lap. She’s gently stroking him and he’s lapping it up.

‘He’s nice. What’s his name?’

‘So far it’s just “dog”; haven’t really had time to think.’

She strokes him a little more before she speaks again. ‘I saw Tanya the other day.’

Words which suck all the air from the room.

‘How is she?’ I finally manage.

‘I’d like to say she’s fine, but really she’s not. I can tell.’

All I’d ever tried to do was the best for her, and yet somehow I ended up hurting her, the last person in the world I’d want to harm. How did it get to this? Why was I such a fuck-up?

‘I think you should talk to her, Jaap. I know things were bad, especially after the miscarriage, but I’m seeing you both, and you’re both miserable. Being apart clearly isn’t working. For either of you.’

The reality is I tried, though. Tried several times but she wouldn’t see me, said that it was over, we were done. I’d got angry, which hadn’t helped. And then I began to wonder if she wasn’t, in fact, right, that maybe it was over and I just had to accept it and move on. I think of Sabine.

‘Did she say anything?’

‘She didn’t have to, but it’s clear she’s hurting and I think she regrets how it ended.’

Regret is such a small word for how I feel about it all. Regret doesn’t even come close. On the kitchen table Nellie’s phone rings and she gets up to answer it. I feel like I need some air, so I walk over to the door, which leads to the balcony overlooking the water. Seagulls mock me with their cries as I step out. My fingers tremble when I’m filling the vape, and I lose some of the bud over the rail.

I hear Nellie’s footsteps behind me. ‘Feeding the ducks?’

I take a couple of draws, and it starts to dampen the swelling wave of anxiety I’d felt inside. It strikes me that without this stuff I might not even still be alive.

‘You think if I tried to contact her she’d respond?’ I finally ask.