“She had another call from the landlord of her new place,” Ross says when he sees me looking. “The current tenant has left earlier than expected, so we’ve got our house back at last.”

I step over the threshold and reacquaint myself with the room now that it’s been cleared of her possessions. A faint trace of coconut oil lingers in the air. The carpet needs a vacuum.

“Oh, right. That’s good.”

I’m surprised, especially after her saying she might have to stay for even longer, but I can’t pretend I’m not relieved, especially after that horrible dream about her and Ross.

Ross puts his hands on my shoulders and kisses me gently on the lips. “Why don’t you get into bed and rest while I make some tea?”

While he’s downstairs and I’m changing into a clean pair of pajamas, the dream invades my mind once more. I look up at my rucksack on top of the wardrobe and remember the shooting pain in my side as I stretched up for it. But that was in the dream, wasn’t it? It didn’t really happen.

That’s odd. Something about the rucksack doesn’t look right. It’s pushed way too far back. I always make sure it’s right at the front so I can easily pull it down when I need it. Maybe Ross was going to use it to put my things in for the hospital and changed his mind, brought them in a carrier bag instead.

I have a sudden urge to check inside it. Being back here in the bedroom makes the dream seem real, as if it actually happened.

I stand on the chair I use at my dressing table and reach for the rucksack. It’s light and empty, as I knew it would be, and I make sure it’s positioned at the front so I can get it down next time I need it. That’s when I notice a slight bulge in one of the compartments at the side. I wonder what that is.

I unzip it and draw out a handful of blister packs of my meds. What are they doing in here? There’s something else, too. My passport and some folded-up sheets of medical information. An uneasy sensation uncoils in the pit of my stomach. Why on earth would I have put my passport in there? I always keep it in the box file under my bed.

Images from the dream race through my mind. My hands flicking through papers. The baseball cap in Catherine’s drawer with Ross’s initials on the label. The file marked “Aunt Jessie.” I feel a sudden chill. Something dark and twisted is coming into focus. My stomach falls away as the fog I’ve been drifting through ever since waking up in hospital finally clears. That was no dream. Oh my God! It really happened.