‘Remember it?’ Ellie asks as she rummages in her bag and pulls out a key.

‘Yes. I do. This is where I lived.’ I frown. ‘But something is different.’

‘There were animals here. Chickens, a couple of cows, some sheep. Maybe that’s what you’re thinking of?’

I nod. ‘Oh yeah. Maybe.’ I feel a pang of alarm. ‘What happened to them?’

‘Don’t worry – they were rehomed with the help of an animal charity. As far as I know, they were all fine. I can double-check later if you like.’ She tips her head to one side. ‘Ready to go in?’

I nod. ‘Definitely.’

I follow her into a dark hallway. I push a door open to the right, which reveals a large kitchen with the table I remember as covered in books – as it still is. There’s a musty smell but the room looks clean, if a bit dusty, and there is a big black Aga in one corner.

I smile. ‘In winter I used to sit over there,’ I say, pointing at a threadbare old easy chair next to it. ‘It was about the only place in the house which was warm. Apart from by the fire in the living room – I’ll show you that next.’

I walk back into the hallway and push open the door on the other side which leads to the living room. ‘It’s just like it was in my dream,’ I tell Ellie, taking in the shabby-looking rug on the bare floorboards, the sagging sofa covered in old blankets and the ancient TV and VHS player and Dad’s huge stack of videos.

‘It’s great news that you’re starting to remember stuff, Laura,’ she says, ‘I’m sure the rest of your memory will come back in no time.’

‘Hope so,’ I say, feeling strangely cheered by being home, even though it’s ultra-weird and sad being there without Dad. It’s the first thing that’s really felt familiar since I woke up in hospital. ‘Can I go upstairs?’

‘Of course.’

I bound up the stairs and turn left into my room, which is exactly as I imagined.

‘Gosh, it’s very bare,’ Ellie comments.

‘What do you mean? It’s got a bed, desk, chair, wardrobe and books – what else would I need?’ I ask. There’s also my doll’s house in the corner which Dad made me when I was tiny. I feel a pang as I have a flash of memory of me moving the tiny figurines around the rooms when I was much, much smaller.

‘You don’t need anything else,’ Ellie says, snapping me out of my reverie, ‘but most girls of your age have posters on the wall, pictures of their friends, things like that. Other bits and pieces.’

‘Like what?’ I ask, although I kind of know. I guess real-life rooms are like the ones on TV.

‘I dunno. Trinkets. Cheap jewellery. Make-up. Magazines.’