“You go to bed,” I offer. “I’ll clear up down here.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that. Thank you.”

As he stands up, I feel afraid of being left alone downstairs. The photo has shaken me because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it, and I’ve got a horrible feeling that it’s not going to be a one-off.

“I’ll set the alarm,” I say, before quickly adding, “Deborah told me that it wasn’t the first time someone had tried to break in.”

He throws me a look of...confusion? Mistrust?

Surely it’s inevitable that I will take over even more of Nina’s roles? I hope I haven’t overdone it.

“The code is Nina’s birthdate, but I haven’t bothered with it much of late. It was Nina who decided she’d like the reassurance. Deborah is correct but the damage was minimal and nothing went missing.”

“I’ll leave it then,” I say.

“Fine. Whatever.”

“Call me if you’re worried or need help in the night with Felix. I’m here for as long as you need me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Every word is true. I promised Nina I’d look out for her family. No matter what, I’m here to stay. I’m becoming more convinced that it’s what Nina would’ve wanted, even if some people won’t see it that way.

I take the photo and pin it to the corkboard. It’s now hidden behind the bin collection timetable until I decide what to do with it.

I check the doors are all locked, then do so once again before persuading myself that I’m overreacting. Anyone can tell that the photo is not the best quality and could well be from a clumsy well-wisher, assuming that Stuart and the children would appreciate the memory. If a mysterious someone really wanted to be threatening, they’d have written something, whether cryptic or openly threatening. It’s what I would do.

The heart and soul has temporarily disappeared from this house, and I am the only person who can replace it. Nina had a black sense of humor, which only got darker as her illness took hold. Her own personal brand of gallows humor, as she would refer to it when I—or someone else—was shocked, unsure of how to react. She told me once that it was a good job she was on her way out as someone had it in for her. I didn’t push her or take it seriously. I wish I had because what if someone was after her and now that person is after me instead?

The sense of unease that has been building all day is heightened as I head upstairs. A guilty conscience is relentlessly unsettling. I stop. Listen. Nothing.

I turn around and retrace my steps before jabbing the familiar digits of Nina’s birthday into the keypad, changing my mind (again) and resetting the code to my own birthdate. The immediate reassurance it offers is gratifying, and some of the tension lifts as I creep to my room.