I got up early and settled down to some work at my computer in the study. Soon afterwards TPR followed me into the room with my breakfast. This was not my usual 40g of museli, but a bowl of mixed vegetable soup, a plate of mixed vegetables, and a portion of chips. I remarked that this was hardly appetising. TPR defended his culinary choices by explaining that he had lots of spare vegetables to use up. I instructed him to take away my unwanted breakfast. I would transform it into soup later.

Our student lodgers CWFR and JM then came to join me in the study so that JM could use the PC to update his CV. I was grateful that they had not instead accidentally wandered into our bedroom and spotted the lumps under the carpet. It was already a risk that TPR would see them and try to straighten them out.

Would I then be forced to confess to the murder? My hope was that the body in the shallow grave between the carpet and the floorboards would decompose over the course of the coming years and – provided that we never moved house again – my secret would be safe, at least until after my own death.