He gets up and heads over to the door. I notice that his limp seems more pronounced this morning, his face tightening sharply with pain, and that he’s wincing whenever he puts the slightest pressure on the ball of his foot. The glass must have pushed deeper in; I wonder if it may even be infected. I should have brought the first aid kit with me, but we were in such a hurry to leave the cottage I didn’t have a chance to think about it.

We move the pew out of the way of the door and then creep outside into the morning. It must be around nine o’clock, I guess, judging by the height of the sun. I hurry to a nearby bush and go to the loo and then Liam does the same

I forage quickly for food for the crow, crouching and digging among the graves with my bare hands, looking for grubs or insects.

‘What are you doing?’ Liam asks angrily.

‘I’m getting some worms for the bird,’ I tell him.

‘Forget the bloody bird,’ Liam hisses at me.

‘It won’t take a second,’ I tell him, tearing at the earth, feeling the cold damp soil beneath my nails.

Liam grips my elbow and tries to pull me away, but I’ve just discovered a worm and I refuse to budge until I’ve tugged it out of its hole and caged it in my palm.

Liam drags me back inside, tutting with impatience and muttering about the damn bird, and I bite my lip and glower at his back. It might be stupid to him, but it’s important to me.

I deliver the worm up to the bird and she swallows my offering whole. I stroke her back and the bird ruffles her feathers in response. ‘You need a name,’ I tell her. ‘How about Hathor?’ I say, remembering the Egyptian god. It goes with my dog’s name, Isis. ‘Hathor was the goddess of women,’ I tell the bird. She caws her approval. ‘Hathor it is then,’ I smile.

I fill her empty saucer with rainwater that has handily fallen through a hole in the roof and collected in the font, noticing that my engagement ring is caked in dirt. I brush the worst off, wishing I could scrub my hands or take a shower. I’m still so cold.