The rat was dark brown and eight inches long, with a tail that stretched on for a number of inches more. It was the tail that Kirsty really hated. The thought of a rat’s tail touching her, or even coming anywhere near her, made her flesh go cold. This rat was never going to trouble anyone, though. It was stone dead, its eyes closed and its mouth open, frozen in a final squeal, exposing its long yellow teeth. There was a patch of blood on its chest.

‘Poor thing,’ Jamie said.

‘It’s gross,’ said Kirsty, shuddering. The only creatures she hated more than rats were spiders. ‘You’ve got to get rid of it.’

Jamie went into the kitchen, found a carrier bag and went back out into the hallway. He knelt down beside the dead rodent and put his hand inside the bag, grasping the rat through the plastic and pulling the bag inside out. He tied a knot in the top of the bag and carried it out to the dustbins. He was amazed at how heavy it was; how solid its body felt as he gripped it through the makeshift plastic glove. He wished he could have buried it, but they had no garden to call their own. The whole thing made him feel sad. As a teenager he had kept a pet rat called Roland. When, near the beginning of their relationship, he had told Kirsty this – extolling the virtues of pet rats, hinting that one day he might like to get another one – she told him that if he ever brought a rat near her she would never ever talk to him again.

She sat on the sofa with her hands covering her face. ‘Is it gone?’

‘I put it in the dustbin.’ He tutted. ‘I don’t understand what it was doing outside our door.’

Kirsty grimaced. ‘Ugh. It was probably trying to get in. It probably smelled the meal last night and wanted some.’

‘You’re mad. Rats don’t try and get in through closed doors!

‘Got a better explanation? I just hope it was the only one. What if there’s a nest? We’ll have to call the council, get the pest control sent out.’

‘Come on, Kirsty, let’s not over-react. It probably got into the building, got trapped and either died of fright or hunger. Although it didn’t look very hungry. It was pretty fat.’

‘Don’t. I don’t want to talk about it. After that dream I had last night, I want to think about pleasant things. Like shopping. Are we still going to go into town this afternoon?’

‘If you want to. But I’ve got to nip down the shop first to get some milk. Do you want anything?’