Liam has cracked the curtains open an inch and through the gap we watch the slate sky as we eat. Liam is clearly waiting for the rain to show signs of letting up, but it keeps coming down in torrents. We don’t speak; both of us are too on edge. From his furrowed brow and angry glare, I can tell that Liam’s anger is growing. When he’s finished eating, he drops his dirty plate into the sink with a clatter and walks through into the living room. I follow him as he walks around, checking all the windows are locked tight, as well as the doors. When he’s done, he lights a fire in the wood-burning stove, trying to chase away the chill and the gloom that have descended.

‘We should have enough wood for the rest of the day,’ he tells me, eyeing the pile by the side. He sighs again with annoyance.

I nod, and head into the kitchen, where I wash up, scrubbing the plates to within an inch of their lives. There’s no hot water which makes it difficult. I’m frightened; it feels as if fleas are jumping all over my skin. I keep my eyes trained on the window, half-expecting to see someone watching the house, and because it’s on my mind I’m convinced that I keep seeing things – shapes materialising through the rain, a person silhouetted against the forest – but the mirages vanish as soon as I blink.

I hang up the wet tea towel and tidy up the kitchen, before joining Liam in the front room. He’s poking the fire as if it’s a sleeping bear he’s trying to prod out of hibernation. I check on the bird in its box; it seems to be doing all right, sitting quietly. I’m guessing it’s still in shock, and so I replace the towel and leave it be. I begin pacing to the window and back, too afraid to pull back the curtain and peek out, chewing on the edge of my thumb, wondering what to do next.

I would feel imprisoned, but in a way it’s not too different from my life back home. I’ve been stuck indoors for months there too. I glance at my phone to check the time: it’s almost midday. It feels later though – like it should be evening already – not just because of the dim light but because it feels as if we’ve been awake for hours. We have, I remind myself. We were up at the crack of dawn.