55
I rush over to the front door and pull the handle down. The door opens. It was unlocked.
Did I lock it last night? I must have done. I always do. I’m so security conscious at the moment. But then again, I’d had a lot to drink. Can I guarantee that I locked the door? To be perfectly honest, I can’t guarantee anything. My memory has patches in it, as it tends to when I’ve drunk this much. I must have locked it. I’m obsessive about it. And I’ve been even more careful recently.
I rush back up the stairs and grab my phone from the bedside table. I fumble to unlock it, then call Kieran.
He seems to take an age to answer. I can only assume he’s not feeling brilliant this morning either. Eventually, though, he does answer.
‘Hey. What’s up?’ he says.
‘Nothing. Listen, did you come in the h
