Norah went up on tiptoes, reached into the cupboard and felt for it. Nothing. Frantically, she ran to the living room to fetch one of the new chairs. Put it in front of the cupboard. Climbed onto it.

There it was, of course. How could it have been anywhere else when nobody knew about it? A thief might take her laptop or her designer watch, but not a thing like that. Still. For a few minutes Norah stood there with tears in her eyes, her hand clapped to her mouth. Then she collected herself and put the book back in its place. She closed the cupboard door, staggered to the bathroom on trembling legs, got into the shower cubicle and turned the water on so hot that it burnt.

When she’d had a shower and got dressed, she felt a bit more clear-headed and rang Sandra. Surprisingly, Sandra picked up almost immediately.

‘Hi,’ she said.

‘Hello.’

Norah could hear Greta in the background.

‘Just a minute, darling, Mama’s on the phone.’

‘Is this a bad time to call?’ Norah asked.

‘It’s about as good as it gets,’ Sandra said, and Norah couldn’t work out whether she sounded amused, annoyed or resigned. ‘So what’s up?’

Something told Norah that Sandra didn’t have the patience for a long phone call and she decided to cut to the chase.

‘I have a feeling someone’s been in my flat,’ she said.

‘What do you mean?’ Sandra asked, her voice strained, as if she were lifting something heavy. A full shopping bag, a kicking toddler. ‘A burglar or what?’

‘Yes. No. I don’t really know.’

Norah could almost see Sandra frown.

‘I’m missing things. Stuff keeps disappearing from my flat.’

‘How do you know you haven’t just lost it?’

Sandra was right, of course. She’d shared a flat with Norah ten years ago and knew how disorganised she was.

‘This morning my toothbrush wasn’t there,’ said Norah. ‘Do you think I could lose my toothbrush?’

Sandra said nothing.

‘It’s more than that,’ Norah went on. ‘It’s not just that stuff vanishes. Things suddenly appear in my flat too. Things that don’t belong to me.’

‘Like what?’

‘The other day I found a little cuddly toy.’

‘Maybe things you packed by mistake when you moved out?’ Sandra asked.

‘That’s what I thought at first. But it’s not that.’

‘Do you have anything valuable in the flat?’ Sandra asked. ‘Are you missing anything expensive?’

‘No,’ said Norah. ‘Nothing. And there’s no trace of burglars. But…’

‘But you’re worried.’ Sandra finished her sentence for her.

‘You know me. Do you think I’m the paranoid type?’

‘I don’t actually, no,’ Sandra replied pensively. ‘Tell me, do you know your landlord?’

‘I met him once, briefly. Elderly man, early sixties maybe.’

‘Does he have a key to your flat?’

‘That’s the stupid thing,’ Norah said. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t managed to get hold of any of the property managers. Is he allowed in my flat if I’m not there and haven’t given my permission?’