It was a negative train of thought and I wrestled myself away from it, heaved myself out of bed, wrapped my dressing gown around me and went gingerly downstairs, where I made a coffee and drank it looking out at the garden. In contrast to the stillness of the woman’s leg yesterday – an image I couldn’t get out of my mind – the garden was full of life; movement. The wind ripped leaves from the oak tree, sending them scurrying across the lawn like rats. The pink roof of the old Wendy House was completely covered in the brown mulch of dead leaves. All I could see of it was the faint gleam of the broken glass in the window and, behind that – a shadow? A movement? I squinted, craning my head towards the window but then the wind gusted harder and the whole tree creaked and swayed. For a terrifying moment I pictured it toppling towards the house, its claw-like branches reaching out for Grace and me.

‘What are you looking at?’ I spun around to see Grace in the doorway. She, too, was wrapped in a gown, her feet poked into a pair of my slippers. She had her glasses on; her hair in a messy bun.

‘The oak tree. Rohan said I should have it removed. I think it’s rotten inside. I completely forgot to find someone.’

‘What a shame. It’s a beautiful tree.’

‘He’s worried it’ll fall on the house.’

‘Then we’ll both die together.’ Grace smiled. ‘Anyway – morning. How are you feeling?’ Her face creased with concern. ‘That was quite a “thing” you had yesterday. Do you remember getting home?’

I shook my head, although there were fragments: a taxi, Grace’s arm around me, the blur of lights, rain on a windscreen.

‘Do you get them often, these panic attacks?’

I blew air out through my mouth. ‘I used to. But no, not so much these days. I try to control them.’

Grace nodded.

‘It happens sometimes. In crowds,’ I said. ‘It’s why I don’t tend to go into Central London.’

Grace smiled. ‘Well, no harm done.’ She paused. ‘It was worth it, though, wasn’t it? I thought the show was fantastic.’

‘I can’t stop thinking about the woman.’

Grace sighed. ‘I think it would have been pretty instant. That’s something, I suppose.’

‘I hope so. I hope she didn’t know what happened.’

We lapsed into silence. I could barely remember Phantom – it was as if I’d watched it in a previous life. I sighed. ‘I haven’t been into the West End for ages. I can’t believe that happened the one time I went. Maybe I’ll leave it a while before I go back.’

Grace opened the fridge and surveyed its contents.

‘Ah,’ she said, with her back to me. ‘I was thinking about that… you know what they say: you gotta get right back on that horse.’