I got up shortly after he had left and sat to eat breakfast in the living room, staring out into the garden. The sky was a bleak dove grey. I saw Mrs Barley walking down the path, as she so often did, to put food out for the birds. I thought again of my actions the previous night and felt ashamed. What the hell had I been thinking of? I was beginning to wonder if I was on the verge of some sort of breakdown. It actually frightened me that I had acted so impetuously.

Corvus was waiting expectantly on the apex of the summer house roof, squawking as Mrs Barley approached. I watched him alight on the ground near her feet. She stroked his head as he ate and I flinched, thinking how unnatural it looked. Her bizarre connection with him actually made my flesh crawl. But he was only a harmless bird – it felt irrational that it should provoke such an extreme reaction in me. Seeing me, she waved as she went back into the house. Again, I recalled Mr Barley’s haunted countenance in the photographs and shuddered. It gave me a bad feeling – as though his appearance was in some way unpropitious. And who was that little boy in the window?

For God’s sake, what was wrong with me? My mind birling, I resolved to make myself busy, try to restore some sense of normality. There was so much going through my head I felt as though I was losing my grip. I stripped the bed and put on the washing machine, before showering and dressing. I felt an uncomfortable heaviness in my stomach, and rested on the bed for a moment until it passed. We needed bread, so I forced myself to take a stroll to the shop. Jobie was keen to accompany me, but I hadn’t the energy to be pulled along at a rate of knots. He looked deflated when I stopped him at the door, so I patted his head and consoled him with a bone biscuit before stepping out into the street.

Judy smiled as I entered. ‘Bit of a blowy one out there today.’

I nodded. I felt too tired to chat and was monosyllabic in response.

‘You’re looking shattered, love,’ she remarked. ‘You should go home and put your feet up. Can’t be long now, eh?’

‘Still a couple of weeks yet. It’s getting quite uncomfortable now, though.’

‘Yes, I remember it well. Still, you make the most of it before the baby arrives. Your feet won’t touch the ground afterwards!’

I smiled thinly and wished her a good morning. The sycamores lining the road bowed and creaked, their discarded leaves dancing in a whirling vortex across the pavement. The sound of distant gunshot rang out, quickening my pulse, and a family of rooks scattered skyward from the shelter of a nearby tall leafless tree, circling and cawing loudly.