By the time she’d reached Tiff’s she was out of breath, her lungs struggling, chest tight – from walking so quickly, or from anxiety, she couldn’t tell. Louisa punched in the code Shirley had given her to release the key from the small metal key safe on the outside wall, then, with a huge intake of breath, opened the front door.

The stale air hit her. The house had only been closed up for a matter of days, yet it already had the faint smell of must – an ‘unlived-in’ scent. She stood on the threshold, her legs heavy, feet refusing to move her inside. The stillness, the unnerving peacefulness the house held, made Louisa’s skin turn to gooseflesh.

Come on, Lou. You said you’d do this – you can’t back out now.

As she pushed Noah in ahead of her, she became aware of a lightness inside her head – a dizziness consuming her.

Breathe slowly.

She’d been taking such shallow breaths she was now hyperventilating to compensate. She had to slow her breathing down or she’d faint.

And bang my head and die.

The thought made her shiver.

The urge to call out ‘hello’ was overwhelming. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. Eight years she’d been coming here, and this was the first time she’d been in the house without Tiff being there. She felt as though she were trespassing. That feeling would become even stronger once she began rummaging through Tiff’s belongings.

Why had she agreed to do this? She should’ve offered to help with arranging the service seeing as Shirley had decided Tiff was to be buried in Little Penchurch because it was a place close to her daughter’s heart. Louisa could’ve happily organised Tiff’s favourite songs, photos, anything. Something less obtrusive. Less like she was a stalker. But, on the other hand, if she hadn’t agreed to this, she wouldn’t now have the opportunity to find evidence. Not that she knew what evidence she was looking for or what form it would take. Or even if there was any to be found.

She meant to begin in the kitchen, wanting to get it out the way first, but as she approached it a squirming sensation rippled through her and she backed away.

Spilling water

Head hitting granite

Blood-covered tiles

Lifeless body

As the unwanted vision flashed in her mind, her whole body began to shake. She needed to settle her nerves first, before entering the scene. Had the blood even been cleaned up? It wasn’t only where Tiff had died, but also where the majority of their time had been spent when Louisa had gone over for a chat and coffee. It was the hub of the house – where most of her memories had been made.