Aching and a little bruised after my fall, I eased myself from the bed and made my way over to the window, looking down at them in the garden. Kenny was rubbing a hand across his chin, looking bemused, but their conversation was too muffled to decipher. Feeling slightly woozy, I went slowly downstairs and into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Jack came in through the French doors.

‘Morning, Trouble. How are you doing?’ He kissed the crown of my head. I still felt sheepish.

‘I’ve been better.’

‘Well, you’ll be pleased to learn that I could find no evidence of anything untoward in the attic. It was a bit of a bugger getting through that hatch, mind you. It does look as though there’s been some movement up there, but I’m willing to bet that it’s being caused by visitors of the furry kind.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘Squirrels. The loft’s been insulated at some point with that loose-fill stuff, and there’s quite a pile of it that’s been heaped up. It’s fairly common, apparently. Looks like they’ve started building a nest. Kenny says it wasn’t like that the other day. He’ll move it all back, and once the netting’s in place, it’ll stop them getting in again. They chew everything, so apart from damaging the joists, they can be a fire hazard if they start nibbling through cables.’

‘But it was so loud – heavy, like footsteps. And what about the whispering?’

‘They can be noisy, so I understand. I remember one of the chaps who worked for my dad saying he had an infestation in his roof a few years back. He reckoned it sounded like a herd of elephants running around up there. I suppose everything’s amplified when it’s coming through the ceiling. And as for the whispering you thought you heard – well, things can sound distorted, can’t they – especially in the dead of night. It could’ve been water trickling through the pipes, or anything.’

I wasn’t convinced, but decided not to push it. I knew the type of noise I’d heard couldn’t possibly have been caused by squirrels – could it? Or was it feasible that there was indeed a perfectly mundane and rational explanation for it all, and that my mind was playing tricks on me? I thought suddenly of my mum, and a feeling of panic began to well inside me. Before it grew more serious, her mental illness had begun as neuroses. Could my own pregnancy have triggered something similar in me? It didn’t bear thinking about.