I heard Zoe singing to herself as she always did when we came home from a night out or a party; she had gone upstairs to the bathroom, humming her favourite dance tunes, and her voice drew me up the stairwell and to the doorway. I’d thought she had gone to freshen up, or take a bath, or strip from her clothes, and soon realised she’d gone for a combination of all three. The taps were running, filling the bath.

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