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It feels strange being in my house. The sights, the smells, the familiar sound of the radiators knocking and humming – it all takes me back to a time when things were very different. I keep expecting Lisa to walk out of the kitchen at any minute and ask me if I want a cup of tea. It feels like years since I’ve been here. It’s difficult to believe we’re still in the same month.
The living room is darker than usual, mainly due to the curtains’ having been pulled shut. Some daylight seeps around the edges, bleeding across the wallpaper, but at least I’m sheltered from the flashbulbs of the press photographers who are being kept at bay at the end of the driveway by the police. Percy, the stuffed bear, sits solemnly on the wall unit, wedged gracefully between two shelves. I look at him for
