‘Oh, there’s someone at the door. Probably another Jehovah’s Witness.’ I could hear the bell through the handset and I watched the shadowy figure push anticipatory fingers on the brass button. ‘I must go. See you Christmas Day.’

‘See you then. Bye.’ But she’d gone. I slammed the phone down and hurried back to the window. The slut opened the door, kissed the caller brazenly on the lips and dragged him into her lair. Bitch.

16

Rebecca

Christmas came and went. Before I knew it I was back at my flat. The break had done me good, taken my mind off the worst of matters for a brief period but I needed to move forward. I needed answers. My parents asked about Roger but avoided mention of Mitch. They sensed things weren’t right. But as families do, we all put on a brave face.

With steely resolve I decided that some New Year’s resolutions would have to be set in motion rather earlier than any date suggested by the calendar. I unpacked my few belongings and set my parents’ present of a slimline instamatic camera on the coffee table and promised myself to add photography to my list of New Year activities.

There was one message flashing up on the answerphone and I sat down, silently praying and hoping that it would be from Mitch, that he would be round later. I hadn’t heard from him since Christmas and I was desperate for explanations as to what was going on. I clicked the button and held my breath not daring to move as the crackly machine came to life. There had been no message left.

I made myself a strong coffee, trying to shake off a lack of purpose and motivation and decided to have a shower before venturing out. I stepped onto the bathroom scales and saw I’d lost a stone in weight since early December. My protruding bones and shoulder blades created a bizarre skeletal outline. I was like a ghost in my severely undernourished state.

By five o’clock my stomach growled so persistently that I dressed and decided to go to the corner shop for some provisions.

Although the snow had gone, my car was frozen over like a giant ice cube and someone had fingered ‘Holy Shit’ on the windscreen. Instead of walking to the shop I cleared the car and drove the short distance to power up the battery.

The streets were quiet with little traffic. A few lone walkers trudged off the festive excesses. The corner shop, Patel’s Deli, was only a stone’s throw from my flat and I was able to park right outside. Mr Patel was packing shelves when I entered.

I bought a loaf of white bread, some cheese and ham and a couple of bananas to get me through the night. Tomorrow I’d stock up on proper adult food.