‘I can’t stay at home. If I stay at home I’ll have nothing to distract me. And I’ll know that they are close by.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Listening to me.’ She looked up. ‘I have to get out of here, Jamie. We’re going to put this place on the market. You can go into town tomorrow and do it, OK? We have to get out. I don’t want to live above them any more.’

‘But…’

‘No protests, please. I’m too tired to argue.’

‘OK. But shit, Kirsty, your uniform!’

She had been holding the iron down on it while they were talking, and now it had started to smoke. She pulled the iron away and a cloud of pale smoke rose upwards, making her cough.

‘Oh fuck.’

She picked up the blouse and studied it. There was a brown scorch mark where she had burnt it. She held it against her face and began to cry. Jamie came around to her side of the ironing board, unplugged the iron and put his arms around her. They sat on the sofa and cried together for the first time since the accident. They sat there until it grew dark outside.

Jamie stood up and fetched a bottle of wine from the fridge. They both needed alcohol, to numb the pain, if only for one evening. Kirsty sat with her head on Jamie’s shoulder, her feet curled under her. She kept touching her belly, as if she was testing to see if it was really true, if it had really happened.

‘You will go to the estate agent tomorrow, won’t you?’ she said.

‘Yes.’

‘There’s no point trying to fight them, Jamie, you do know that, don’t you? We’ve already lost. And I just want to get away, start again somewhere else. We’ll buy a house, somewhere quiet. Outside London. You can commute. I’ll get a transfer. We’ll be OK.’

He nodded and kissed her forehead.

‘I take it the police weren’t interested,’ she said. There was so much weariness in her voice. Jamie wondered if she had taken anything: sleeping pills, tranquillizers, downers. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had.

‘They weren’t interested at all. “Just an accident, sir.” That was their line.’

‘That’s what I thought they’d say.’

They were quiet for a while. The TV was still flickering away silently. There was some kids’ programme on now: humanoid puppets in primary colours, dancing around. Jamie found them quite creepy with their mock-human gestures and huge, unblinking eyes. He looked away.

They finished the wine and Kirsty said that she was going to take a bath. Jamie ran it for her, adding loads of bath oil and lighting scented candles around the perimeter of the bath.

‘Can you leave me alone?’ Kirsty said as she stepped into the warm water.

‘Really?’