For the next ten minutes, Jamie combed the flat, opening cupboards, checking drawers, looking inside boxes, under the sofa. He studied the pictures on the wall, wondering aloud if the intruder might have moved one, accidentally brushing against it and tilting it. He took out photographs they had taken in the summer and held them up, comparing the room in the photographs to the room as it was now. Of course, they had moved things since the summer, added ornaments, shifted furniture, accumulated more junk. The photographs were no help.

‘Maybe we’re imagining it,’ he said, finally sitting down beside Kirsty.

‘But we can both feel.’

‘That might be because we’re putting ideas in each other’s heads.’

She knew what he would do now – switch into reassuring mode.

‘Look, we’ve both been pretty spooked since yesterday afternoon, and I know I was nervous about coming back. I’ve always been paranoid about burglary, plus I had this thought at the back of my mind that Lucy and Chris might do something while we were away. I suppose I brought my worries in with me and my imagination ran away with itself. But there’s no evidence that anyone’s been in here. The door was locked. The windows are shut tight.’ He tried to smile. ‘We must be wrong.’

‘I guess so.’

It was growing dark outside, long shadows pointing towards the house as the sun went down. Kirsty yawned. ‘I’m tired. That long journey’s worn me out. I might go to bed for a while.’

‘OK.’

She drew the curtains in the bedroom and slipped beneath the cool duvet. She lay there with her eyes wide open, shivering. She wanted Jamie to come to bed with her, to lay close behind her, keep her safe. But he didn’t follow her into the room. She heard him moving around the living room, checking shelves and drawers, trying to prove to himself that his instincts were right, even though he wanted them to be wrong.

Night descended and Jamie went to bed. Kirsty had by now fallen asleep, and he kissed the back of her neck and put his arm around her, feeling the slight curve of her belly with his palm. He went to sleep in that position. Earlier, Kirsty had rung her parents and told them about the wedding. They had been not furious but disappointed, which was worse, and Jamie had listened to the brightness fade from Kirsty’s voice as she’d tried to justify why they’d done it. The conversation had exhausted her.

Jamie was woken up by a creaking sound. He opened his eyes, a shot of adrenaline making him feel fully awake. The noise sounded close, almost as if it was coming from the next room. Jamie had a clear, horrible thought: What if there really had been someone in the flat – and what if they were still here?