‘Abi?’ Rohan’s voice came down the line, strained and thin. ‘Thank God. What happened? Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine!’ I got up and paced the kitchen, uncomfortable with Meena listening to the call but aware that I had to take it in front of her. ‘I’m so sorry I missed your calls. I was painting and my phone was in the kitchen. What time is it there?’

‘Just gone four thirty in the morning.’

‘Shit. I’m really sorry… have you…’ Been up all night? was what I needed to ask, but I didn’t want to know I’d caused him a sleepless night. ‘I’ve done some amazing work,’ I said. ‘I can’t wait to show you.’

‘I’m looking forward to it, Abs. I’ve been counting the days till I see you.’ A pause. ‘You must be really into your painting.’ I was still sweating, my hand clammy on the phone.

‘I’ve been consumed by it,’ I said. ‘I barely know what day it is.’ It felt as if my voice was coming from somewhere else; someone else speaking. ‘I’ve been so busy. I’ve pretty much finished the fourth painting. I was up all night.’

‘I’m glad you’re being productive,’ Rohan said. ‘I was really worried you wouldn’t have anything for the exhibition.’

‘Well, I will now. I’m aiming for nine or maybe ten in the series and, if I can keep on at this pace, they should be done in time.’

‘Fantastic.’ His voice was warm. ‘But please, baby, keep your phone with you and just send me a text if you’re busy. I understand. I get it. But I never want another night like last night. Okay?’ He wished me a happy birthday, asked if I was doing something with Grace later, and I hung up the call a few minutes later.

Meena was sitting at the table, staring into space.

‘I think it’s the house,’ she said randomly, drumming her fingers on the table. ‘I’ve always said there’s something about this house. A spirit, maybe.’

She looked up at the ceiling as if she could see the wisps of ghosts traversing the plaster; ectoplasm stuck to the window panes and I stifled a sigh of impatience, wanting nothing more than painkillers and my bed.

‘Don’t you feel it, Abigail?’ she said. I didn’t say anything, and Meena carried on. ‘Maybe you don’t. But my family, from my mother’s side, we were always sensitive to these things.’

I shrugged. Rohan had taught me not to indulge Meena’s spiritual-slash-fanciful side, not because he didn’t believe in it, but because once Meena got an idea about something, she snowballed, and I could see where this was going.