Idiot. I whisper it under my breath, as I spot something poking from between the boards where the mirror was stood. Rav calls up to me that he is going to grab some water, something about dust in his throat, so I slip silently over the dusty floor to look closer. The tip of a white feather emerges from the crack in the floorboards and I crouch down to pick it up. It was just a bird, that’s what disturbed the air. I scan the beams but it’s too dark to see if a bird is trapped up here. My fingers pull at the tip, fumbling at the slick fibres. A white feather. Isn’t a white feather good luck? Or spiritual? Something like that anyway. I try to remove it, but something prevents it from sliding out. Something that feels heavier than a feather should.

‘Al? Are you ready?’ Rav’s voice wafts up from the landing below. ‘I really need to get on with some work so can we get this done if you want it down here?’

‘Coming,’ I call back, letting the feather fall back down between the cracks until just the tip is showing. Together we manage to manoeuvre the mirror out through the hatch to the attic, down the stairs and into the hallway without dropping it or arguing. Rav props it against the wall, but there are two fixings in the middle of the wall, in the exact space where I pictured the mirror hanging.

‘Wait, Rav, can you just help me hang it on these hooks?’ We take a side each and get the grimy, age-spotted mirror hung. ‘Thank you.’ I blow Rav a kiss as he hurries away to the kitchen to grab his laptop and briefcase, his mind already back on work. I stand back and survey the mirror. It looks perfect, almost as if that was where it was meant to hang.

We eat dinner in the living room, Rav surrounded by papers, his hair sticking up on one side where he keeps running his hands through it. I know better than to ask if he is OK, if there is anything I can do, and instead I eat in silence, my thoughts going back to the feather in the attic, wondering what it was that stopped it from being pulled out completely.

‘Al? Allie?’ Rav’s voice snaps into my thoughts and I lower my fork to my half-eaten dinner. ‘The baby. He’s crying, didn’t you hear him?’