‘It’s a long way. You don’t have to. I’m almost done here now anyway.’

‘I saw on the news that they found an old body buried in the woods. Was it the girl you knew?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m sorry, love.’

I start to cry and I’m not sure why; it’s not like I was good friends with her. ‘It’s good for her family to have closure now,’ I say, even though her father is a suspect, even though I know more than he does. I could tell the police things that would shift their focus entirely.

‘We’ll head down in the morning, OK?’

‘It would be good to see you. I love you,’ I say and hang up before he has a chance to not say it back.

A clock has been started. I need to find out the truth about Mandy’s disappearance before my family come, before her body turns up. I need to purge the old me again and become the wife and mother I was before; she wasn’t perfect, but she would be a good place to start. I just need one more drink first.

It’s getting darker when I go outside. I have lost count of the number of drinks I have had, and I stumble forwards in in the half light and grab for a tree planted in the pavement to stop me from falling. More memories surface of my life before I left, but I push them down. It all goes back to that one summer. Being here has made me realise all the other people I miss. Like my mother. How can I move forward without confronting the devils of my past?

As I walk unsteadily forwards I hear an engine rev nearby. I look around but I can’t see anything. I know it’s there, though, I can hear the gentle hum of the engine like the breath of a stalker. The car headlights in the street are all dark and my vision is blurred, my temples throbbing. I don’t know why I can’t control myself here, it’s never just one glass. I don’t do this at home.

I keep walking, my destination programmed into me. I feel my knee stinging so I know I have fallen at some point. I perch on the edge of a garden wall, the ever present sound of a car engine nearby. I wonder if it’s just in my head, swirling around with the rest of my cacophony of thoughts. When I start to walk again, muscle memory takes me in the direction I need to go. I walked this hill many times in the past, sometimes alone, sometimes with friends, sometimes sober, sometimes drunk.