‘My pissed husband might have thought he’d switched it off and hadn’t. But he was downstairs, here with me, when that door slammed.’

‘Darling, ghosts inhabit ancient houses. This is a new-build, brand-new. No one’s lived here before.’

‘It’s on an historic site. We don’t know what went on before, in the old mansion that was here.’

‘Hey, we heard a sound like a door slamming upstairs – but all the doors are open. As I said, it’s probably the wood moving, that’s all.’

‘It’s not all.’

He looked hard at her. ‘What do you mean?’

She shook her head.

‘Tell me – what do you mean, it’s not all?

She shook her head again. ‘Nothing.’

He continued looking at her. Her face was pale, or was he imagining it? ‘What do you mean, nothing?’

‘Forget I said it.’

‘Something’s bothering you. Come on, share it with me.’

‘I’ll go and sort the food out,’ she said. ‘What time did we book the pub for tomorrow in the end?’

‘One thirty, and they said they need it back at three, because they’re so busy in the run-up to Christmas.’

‘That’s fine, great.’

She headed through to the kitchen. He followed her, relieved to see the home command box was still unplugged, as he had left it. ‘Come on, we always promised each other no secrets. What is it?’

‘Honestly, nothing. Forget I ever said it.’ She smiled. ‘OK?’

‘OK,’ he said hesitantly.

They kissed.

‘I was planning to work tonight but I don’t think I can,’ he said.

‘I was going to get on with unpacking and I don’t think I can, either.’

‘Let’s have supper in front of the telly. There’s a couple of Netflix things I really want to see.’

‘Good plan,’ she said. ‘If I can stay awake.’

‘Everything’s going to be fine. I love this house. I can work here, I know I can.’

She smiled. ‘I love it too. It is – it’s going to be great for us both.’

‘What was it Penis-Weewee said tonight? Happy wife, happy life?’

Emily laughed. ‘Don’t you ever dare say that to me!’

He raised his arms. ‘Would I ever need to?’

Playfully, she raised her right hand, curled her fingers and gave him the bird.

19

Sunday 16 December

Sleep was one of the few things on which Jason and Emily disagreed strongly. She needed a full eight hours and preferably nine; he resented sleeping more than six. Resented, as he called it, sleeping his life away.

Shortly after 7 a.m., having woken once during the night with a headache and taken two paracetamols, he slipped out of bed feeling very hungover. He dressed in his warm winter cycling gear, which he’d unpacked late last night, went down to the kitchen and plugged the command box back in. Then he went through the integral door to the garage, checked the tyres on his road bike, secured his helmet, gave the command for the door to open and wheeled the bike out on to the silent street, commanding the door to shut behind him.