CHAPTER 26
The first time I saw Jeff following the accident was about six weeks after it. It was a Friday night, I had finished work for the weekend, walked Sammy, showered, eaten a takeaway and curled up on the couch with a book. I was in my pyjamas, big, slouchy, loose, ugly things, and drinking a glass of wine. The TV was on for some background noise. After the unexpected news, the house had seemed too quiet even though I was used to living on my own – and I wasn’t on my own, I had Sammy for company.
I didn’t hear anything – no knock on the door or the chime of the doorbell. Sammy didn’t bark or growl. All I heard was the low drone of the current affairs programme on TV, barely discernible over the hum of the occasional car driving by and the oil burner tucked between the kitchen and
