After a few moments I hear him start to snore. I lie here looking up at the ceiling, street lights casting strange shapes. I feel exhausted but sleep won’t come, so, taking my phone from the side table, I climb out of bed and go into the living room.

Sitting in what has become my usual spot in the corner of the sofa, I click open the Dream Properties app and allow myself to fall away. Most of the period properties I have seen before so I type ‘new build’ into the search engine. I don’t particularly like new-build houses but tonight I feel so on edge I need to have something to look at.

The first couple of houses are depressingly ugly and ostentatious, the sort of thing a footballer might buy, but then halfway down the page I see something that makes me pause.

It’s described as ‘An eco house with spectacular sea views located in the heart of fashionable Whitstable.’ I click through the images. The decor is sparse, all white and silver and rounded edges. Its clean lines are so at odds with the dirt and mess my life has been reduced to. Maybe if I go to see it I will feel a bit better. Maybe some of its purity will rub off on me, I think to myself as I click on the ‘Book an appointment’ box.

And then, seemingly unbidden, a name pops into my head. Eleanor Hawkins. I have no idea who Eleanor is or what she wants from me but I know that if I become her for a few hours then I’ll be able to escape the crushing sadness that is pressing into my chest.

I type the name and as I do I feel something lighten. The magic is happening again. I’m about to become someone else.

28. Now

When I get to Warwick Avenue there is a queue to get through the turnstiles and I quickly scan the crowd. There’s a woman with a rucksack, a teenage boy wearing headphones, a mother with a baby strapped to her chest and two men in suits who look like they’re on their way to a work meeting. All of them are focused on getting out of the station and heading to their respective destinations. No one seems in the least bit interested in the anxious young woman following them through the turnstiles. It seems, for now, I’m safe.