‘Her name was Grace Shaw?’ I said. Over the woman’s shoulder and through an open door I could see that the separate living room that had served as my bedroom and studio was once again being used as a living area, while the small open-plan area outside the kitchen, which we’d used as our main living space, now housed only a dining table. It all looked so much smaller than I remembered; like a toy version. The kitchen where I’d spent so much time cooking for Grace was cluttered with baby paraphernalia.

The woman screwed up her face as she tried to remember someone called Grace. Her hand patted rhythmically on the baby’s back and she shifted her weight from foot to foot in that dance new mums all seem to do.

‘Grace? Nah.’ She shook her head. ‘We bought it from a Pakistani couple. Tall guy. Quiet. I don’t remember the wife’s name. Lianne? Liyana? Leela? Something like that. Definitely not Grace.’

‘Oh you bought it?’ I nodded my interest, buying more time. ‘Recently, or…?’

‘About a year ago, give or take a duck’s fart.’

I edged closer to the door and inhaled. I picked up the smell of coffee and toast but was it my imagination or, underneath that, could I still detect that hint of – what was it? A sort of dank smell we could never shift. The smell of subterranean living that had permeated our clothes at the time, yet which I never noticed until I left the flat. The woman’s face was blank, uninterested.

‘And it wasn’t tenanted when you bought it?’ I asked desperately. ‘Grace rented it, I think. But maybe she’d moved on by then?’

The woman nodded. ‘I guess.’ In her eyes, the conversation was finished. I looked toward the bedroom door; the door outside which I’d stood that night and listened to Grace fucking Tom and the thud in my abdomen was visceral: muscle memory. I wondered if Grace, next to me, was remembering the same thing. On the woman’s shoulder, the baby’s eyes were closed, its head finally flopped down in sleep.

‘Sorry, I need to put him down,’ she said, stepping backwards, ready to close the door.

‘Ah, well, thank you anyway,’ I said, understanding that this was all we were going to get. ‘It was worth a try.’

The door clicked closed. Back on the street, out of sight of the windows, Grace high-fived me.

‘That was brilliant!’ she said. ‘Asking for me when I was standing right there. Can you imagine if she’d actually known who I was? Then what would you have said?’

‘Well, she obviously didn’t.’