Noah pushed his clenched fist into his mouth, then began to grumble. Finally, Louisa checked the time on her mobile and realised he should’ve had his bottle an hour ago. She could make it home in minutes; he could wait until then. Or, she could warm his bottle up here, feed him and then finish the job. The lounge definitely wouldn’t take long – there was only one unit in there and it was mostly filled with books. All of which Tiff would want to go to charity as that’s where she’d got the majority of them from in the first place.

The kitchen was a different story – some of the drawers in there were stuffed with letters, personal papers – Tiff’s habit of shoving everything in them meant anything could be in there. She’d find renewed energy once she saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Gathering Noah into her arms, Louisa made her way back downstairs. She popped her vocal baby in the pram and rummaged in the changing bag for his bottle.

‘Stay there, darling – Mummy won’t be long.’ The thought of wheeling him into the kitchen didn’t feel right. Her tummy rolled as she entered the brilliant-white room. The light streamed in from the side window and Velux, making the room feel less scary than she thought it would. Ridiculous to find a kitchen scary just because someone had died in it. Nonetheless, that’s how she felt. Without looking at her surroundings too much, she opened the microwave and placed the bottle in it. She knew she shouldn’t microwave the milk because of hotspots but she really couldn’t face boiling the kettle, watching the blue light and water bubbling as she’d done just last week. How different things had become in such a short space of time.

As Louisa watched the seconds flash by on the microwave LCD her mind wandered to Friday – to what had taken place in this very kitchen. What could Melissa have possibly wanted with Tiff? A sudden thought crashed its way into her brain. She hadn’t come across Tiff’s mobile phone while she’d been packing things up. She cast her eyes over the worktop surfaces. They were spotless, uncluttered. No phone. The microwave dinged and absentmindedly, Louisa shook the bottle with one hand as she went around the kitchen opening drawers and cupboards with her free hand. Unless it’d been buried beneath the other items, which was very unlikely, then it wasn’t here.

She put the bottle on the island, ignoring Noah’s cries, then used both hands to sort through the final drawer. She flicked through the paperwork and miscellaneous crap that Tiff had obviously decided to sort at a later date. No phone. That was concerning. Had the police not found it odd her phone was missing? Or maybe they’d taken it – perhaps it was standard practice.