In those early weeks after Elodie’s birth, I was permanently exhausted, but had begun to dread night-time. I would dream regularly about Reggie, seeing her lying gaunt and motionless in her open coffin, even though it wasn’t a sight I had actually witnessed. I often woke with a start, either in a cold sweat or with warm tears trickling down my face. The more tired I became, the more amplified any minor issues seemed to be, along with my anxiety levels. It was a vicious circle.

Like clockwork, Elodie stirred at half one for her feed that night. By then, however, I was already wide awake and had been for some time.

My sleep pattern wasn’t good even before my pregnancy and Reggie’s loss, but now it was as though I was pre-empting Elodie waking and didn’t fall into a deep sleep at all. Despite feeling shattered, I had lain awake for almost an hour beforehand. Just before one, I decided to go downstairs and make myself a hot chocolate. I fumbled for my slippers with my feet and pulled on my dressing gown, then slipped from the bedroom as noiselessly as possible.

Jobie was pleased to see me as ever. He padded from his basket and followed me into the living room. I sat at the table, flicking the switch on my laptop. Maybe I could do a bit of online grocery shopping – at least it would be something useful.

As it was booting up, my attention was drawn to the French window where Jobie was moving the curtain aside with his nose. I wondered if he wanted to go to the loo, so got up to open the door for him.

Small, evenly spaced globes of light could be seen shimmering through the summer house window. There was someone out there. My heart thudding, I eased the double doors slowly open and peered through the gloom down Mrs Barley’s garden. Jobie darted through the gap and straight onto the lawn to relieve himself. My whole body quivering, I watched in trepidation as a dark shadow paced back and forth across the window of the summer house. I realised now that the lights from within were cast by several low candle flames, waxing and waning with the draught passing through the partially opened door.