I’d been home an hour and a half, and the checking was going badly wrong. Every time I thought I had done it, the uncertainty was there, the fear. There was no point doing it if I didn’t do it properly. By that time my hands were shaking and I could hardly see through the tears, and I hadn’t even made it beyond the flat door.

I heard the footsteps this time, I heard his flat door upstairs open and close, and I stood still, holding my breath, trying not to make a sound.

He knocked gently, but it still made me jump. ‘Cathy? It’s me. Are you okay?’

I couldn’t reply, I just gasped and sobbed.

I thought I heard a sigh.

‘You’re not okay,’ he said. ‘What happened?’

 I took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘Nothing, I’m alright.’

‘Can you open the door?’

‘No. Leave me alone.’

‘I just want to help, Cathy,’ he said.

‘You can’t help me. Go away.’

I cried harder, angry now as well as afraid, furious at him for being there, for not letting me fall apart.

He wasn’t going to go away.

At last I tried to stand, pulling myself up on the door handle. Through the peephole, I could see him, his face distorted. There was nobody else in the hallway.

My hands were shaking. I pulled back the bolt at the top, the key took longer. The mortise lock took longer still. By the time I got everything open and the door was unlocked my knees gave way and I dropped to a crumpled heap on the floor.

He pushed open the door from the other side and came in, bringing with him the chilly air, the smell of winter. He closed the door behind him and sat down next to me. He didn’t come too close, just sat there with me.

I couldn’t look at him at first.

‘Try and take a breath and hold it,’ he said quietly.

I tried. There was just a lot of gasping. ‘I’m so – I’m… I’m so tired. I couldn’t… I couldn’t do it… couldn’t check.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘Try and think about your breathing, nothing else. Just your breathing, for now.’

I tried. My fingers were tingling. The skin on my face, tingling.

‘Can you hold my hand?’ He held it out across the gap between us, steady.

I reached out, touched it, withdrew, touched it again, and he took hold of me. His hand was cold, icy. ‘Sorry, cold hands. Now try again with your breathing. Can you look at me?’

I tried that too. The breathing was still all over the place. If I couldn’t get the breathing calmed down I was going to keel over.

‘Just think about your breathing. Breathe with me. In – hold it. Keep holding. That’s better. And out. Good, come on, do it again…’

It seemed to take forever, but in the end it got better. I started to get some feeling back in my hands. The breathing slowed, I got it back under control. I gripped his hand as though I was drowning.

‘Well done,’ he said, quietly, ‘you did it.’

I shook my head, still not quite ready to speak. The tears kept coming. I looked up at him and his eyes, kind eyes, looking at me completely without judgement. I shifted a little, towards him, and he moved and stretched his legs out, sitting with his back against my front door, and I moved closer and then he had his good arm around me and I had my face into his chest, where it was warm and smelled of him. He put his hand on my head, stroking my hair.

‘It’s okay, Cathy,’ he said, and I felt his voice rumble in his chest. ‘It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re alright.’

I felt so tired I could have almost slept there, on the floor next to him, just as long as he kept hold of me and didn’t let go. I opened my eyes and I could just see blue cotton, his shirt, and the way it moved as he breathed. I thought I should move. Everything was starting to ache, and the fear had been replaced with a gradual, crippling embarrassment.

At last I lifted my head and he eased away from me, gently. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.’

He stood and helped me to my feet, then led me to the sofa. I sat down and folded myself into a ball. I wanted him to sit down next to me. If he had done that I would have snuggled up to him again.

‘Can I make you a cup of tea?’ he said.

I nodded, shivering. ‘Thanks.’

I listened to the noise of him filling the kettle, the clinking of mugs. Opening cupboards looking for the tea. Opening the fridge. The kettle roaring into life. It felt strange, having him here. I’d never had another person set foot inside the flat since I’d lived here, apart from that plumber the day the stupid pipes burst.

By the time I heard him putting the mugs down on the coffee table in front of me I’d been dozing a little.

‘Will you be alright now?’ he asked.

I sat up, putting my fingers around the mug. My hands weren’t shaking any more, but my voice was hoarse, my throat raw. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’ll be fine. Thank you. Thanks for the tea.’

He watched me while I drank. He looked bone-tired too.

‘Have you eaten?’

‘Yes,’ I lied. ‘How’s your shoulder?’

He smiled. ‘Painful.’

‘I’m sorry about all this. How did you know?’

‘I heard you crying.’

‘You should have left me to it.’

Stuart shook his head. ‘Couldn’t do it.’ He drank some of his tea. ‘Are they getting worse, the panic attacks? More frequent?’

‘I think so.’

He nodded. ‘Was that a bad one?’

I shrugged. ‘I’ve had worse.’

He was watching me steadily, appraisingly, like a fucking doctor. That was exactly the way they used to look at me in the hospital, as though they were waiting for me to do something, say something, demonstrate some symptom or other so they could finally agree what was wrong.

‘I’m sorry, I thought you’d be okay. Sanj – he’s alright really. He can be a bit casual sometimes. What did he say?’

‘It was okay. He was alright. He’s going to refer me for an assessment, or something. What did he mean when he said with you out of action they’ve got a chance of winning on Sunday?’

He laughed. ‘Cheeky bugger. I’m in the NHS Trust’s rugby team. Sanj seems to think I’m some kind of handicap.’

I finished my tea at the same time he did.

‘Anyway, you did it,’ he said, looking at me. ‘You took that first step.’

‘Yes,’ I said. I’d caught the eye contact and now I couldn’t look away.

‘Will you tell me about it?’ he said it so quietly I almost didn’t hear.

‘About what?’

‘About what started it all?’ I didn’t answer.

After a while he said, ‘Do you want me to stay here while you sleep?’

I shook my head. ‘Really, I’ll be alright now. Thanks.’

He left, a bit after that. I felt more awake and I wanted him to hold me again, if I’m honest, I wanted him to hold me tightly and stay with me, but it wasn’t fair to ask him to do that. So he left, and I locked the door behind him, and went to bed.

Now I need to think about carrying on with all this. Facing the rest of my life. One day at a time, one foot in front of the other. I can’t do this for much longer. I can’t keep doing this.