‘Si?’ she called, but the house was quiet. She couldn’t help but feel relieved. Of course, he’d texted earlier – that text that had given her away. He was going out with the boys. She took off her coat and hung it up. It slipped off the hook and brought several other coats down with it. She paused as she picked them up, noticing for the first time in a long time the small hole in the wall where once had hung the stair-gate. She promptly hung up the fallen coats and neatly slipped out of her shoes, lining them up with the other pairs against the wall. How small they seemed next to Si’s. She glanced at the post: only one interesting-looking envelope, addressed to Dr. and Mrs. Robinson. The usual gender assumption riled her; she headed down the hall to the kitchen, placing the post on the kitchen island. She opened the fridge door and pulled out an opened bottle of Sancerre. She poured herself an unjustifiably large glass. She opened the sliding doors to the garden and stood there looking out on to the drenched lawn. She patted her pockets for her cigarettes and lit up. She took a deep, yogic breath full of menthol and relief. She knew exactly why she was feeling so ill at ease.

She could resist it no longer. She stubbed out the barely smoked cigarette, closed the door, sat down at the table and turned on her MacBook Air. She was eager to see if Mrs. Ibrahim had sent any documents of Connie’s.

When Emma saw that she had a new document in her work inbox she felt strangely excited, as if she were opening a love letter. Connie had called the file ‘The Beginning of It All’. Emma’s heart skipped a beat or two as she nervously clicked on it. She read it fast the first time and carefully the second.