We took our time, well, we tried. First we cleared rubbish. The detritus of years. Papers, unopened bills, a Christmas card from 2009. Martha filled binbags and I scrubbed the kitchen, attempting to create a clean space to stand.
Then we sorted clothes. There were two piles – bin and charity shop, but by five we’d lost patience and it all went to the dump, someone else’s problem.
Martha made tea. We stood by the filthy windows, brilliant sunshine beyond.
“Christ, it’s cold in here.” she said, but I couldn’t reply. She sipped her tea and I stared at the sun.