My first day back at work and I’m already exhausted before I start. Last night in bed I couldn’t settle. I was awake in the early hours cuddling Sam’s fleece that I had still been wearing when he dropped me off. My mind tried to replay the events in the churchyard like a DVD on a loop but as I tried to recall the details they became as opaque as a childhood memory, and I’m not sure now whether I imagined the whole thing. Sleep when it came was disturbed and when I woke I couldn’t believe I’d dreamed of bloody strawberries. I’ve always hated them and the taste clung to my tongue long after I’d woken.

Chewing spearmint gum I stand in front of the veterinary surgery at 7.45 a.m. and it feels like the first day back at school after the summer holidays. There is a fluttering deep in my gut as I think about stepping inside but coming back is the right thing, I think. If I didn’t do this, what would I do? Who would I be?

‘Jenna!’

Hands grab my shoulders and my heart springs into my mouth.

‘You coming in or what?’ Rachel grins. Her face, round and freckled, looks delighted to see me, and I follow her swinging brown ponytail through the glass doors. Inside, disinfectant stings my nostrils, and I begin to relax. I can’t imagine why I thought it would all be so different. I’m the one who has changed.

‘So you didn’t answer my calls yesterday.’ Rachel waggles a finger in front of her face as if she’s cross, but I know she isn’t really. She’s the last person to ever hold a grudge. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m good. Really well.’ It’s not a lie; physically I’m fine, but she narrows her eyes, and I know she doesn’t believe me.

‘And what we talked about Saturday? The donor? Have you thought any more about what I said?’

‘Her name was Callie,’ I snap but am instantly apologetic. ‘Sorry, Rachel. I didn’t mean…’

‘It’s OK, Miss Moody Pants. I know you’ll be back to your sweet-natured self once your medication is reduced. In the meantime,’ she sighs theatrically, ‘it’s a hard job being your best friend but someone has to do it, don’t they?’ She shakes her head sadly, and I shove her shoulder, and all of a sudden there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

‘So now you’re back at work there’s no excuse to miss the pub quiz any more. No one else is quite the font of knowledge you are when it comes to the arty stuff that no one else gives a toss about.’

‘I’m sure you’ve done well in the crappy pop music round.’

‘Better than the depressing singer/songwriters you listen to.’ She feigns a yawn, and a laugh bursts from me. It’s been such a long time since I heard the sound I self-consciously clap my hand in front of my mouth.

‘How’s everything been here?’ We’ve hardly talked about work at all since I’ve been off.

‘Nothing’s changed, except Linda’s been really stressed out and snappy. John’s hardly coming in at all and it’s tons of extra work for her.’

Linda and her husband, John, own the practice but John semi-retired last year and it will be odd not seeing him every day, cracking jokes. Raiding the biscuit barrel in-between consultations.

‘She’s even started buying plain digestives instead of chocolate ones now John’s not coming in. Can you imagine? It’s almost staff cruelty. I’ll have to hand you back your senior veterinary nurse crown. You can lead the revolt.’

‘Not yet. I’m sticking to part-time hours for a while.’

‘That’s good.’ Rachel beams. ‘I’ve got used to the extra money each month.’ Her eyes widen. ‘Oh God, Jenna. I didn’t mean good that…’ she falters. ‘It’s just, with Liam and everything.’

‘It’s OK. Really. I understand, and if you’re ever short you know you can ask,’ I offer, but I know she won’t. She’s too proud.

We automatically fall into our default roles. Rachel switches on the ventilation unit, and I fire up the desktop, flick through the CDs and push the button on the ancient CD player, and the lid creaks open. Some things never change.

‘Abba?’ Rachel shimmies across reception and raises an eyebrow as ‘Mama Mia’ starts. ‘Who are you and what have you done with Jenna?’

‘I just fancied something uplifting.’

‘Says the girl who once said she’d rather slit her wrists than listen to Swedish pop?’ She twirls around and hip-bumps me before she grabs a pen, holding it in front of us, and we sing into it as if it’s a microphone.

I feel happier than I have in ages.

‘Someone sounds pleased to be back.’ Linda click clacks across reception in her heels and hugs me, and I feel the bumps of her spine beneath her clothes. She’s lost so much weight and the dark circles under her eyes make her look paler than usual.

‘Are you OK, Linda?’

‘I should be asking you that.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘John sends his love. He’ll pop in later in the week and see how you’ve settled back in.’ Linda and John never had children, and John’s always had a soft spot for me, showering me with sweets when I was small, and as I got older, pressing five pound notes into my hand whenever they came around for dinner. He’s softer than Linda but I love working for them both.

‘You mustn’t overdo it today, missy. I’m not convinced you should be back at all.’ She studies my face. ‘If this is too much we both understand. Don’t feel obligated to be here.’

‘I don’t. I’ll be OK if I build up gradually.’

‘If you’re sure? We’re keeping Kelly on for the time being. She’s eager to stay permanently so don’t worry about leaving us short-staffed.’

I haven’t yet met the temporary nurse who has been filling in for me. Rachel says she’s lovely, but then Rachel thinks everyone is.

The bell tinkles as the front door opens and the first patient of the day rockets through the door, claws scratching and panting heavily.

‘Johnson!’ I can’t resist dropping to my knees to fuss the boxer dog who slides backwards as he tries to gain traction on the sterile white tiles.

‘Lovely to see you back, Jenna.’

‘Thanks, Mr Harvey. Is Johnson OK?’

Mr Harvey bought Johnson after his wife died, and although the dog has proved to be a real handful, he’s stopped Mr Harvey’s son crying himself to sleep every night.

‘No disaster for once. Just his boosters today.’

Mr Harvey signs the consent form, and Rachel leads Johnson to a consulting room as he jumps up, trying to catch his red fabric lead in his mouth.

There’s a steady stream of patients all morning – I’d forgotten how busy it gets – and I’m glad of a break when Linda sticks her head out of her office and asks me to make drinks. Heaping spoons of coffee into mugs and adding splashes of milk, I lean back against the kitchen counter. The kettle gurgles and spits and above the noise I hear the phone ringing, and I scoot back to reception to answer it, but by the time I get there it has stopped. Back in the staffroom I tip water into the mugs and distribute the drinks. I am on my hands and knees in front of the fridge wiping up milk that has seeped from its carton when Kelly sloshes her coffee down the sink and swills out her mug. Rachel follows with her and Linda’s drinks.

‘Trying to give us diabetes?’

‘What’s up?’

‘They’re full of sugar.’

‘I didn’t… I don’t remember. Sorry. This has been more tiring than I’d thought,’ I admit.

‘If you want to leave early I’ll cover you?’ Kelly offers.

‘Thanks.’ We head back to reception and I gather my things together. ‘I’ll just hang on and say hello to Mrs Bainbridge. She has Casper, her Jack Russell, booked in at 12.00.’ He’s such a sweetie. So is Mrs Bainbridge. It’s hard to believe it’s nine months since I’ve seen her. I have missed our chats. She had sent me flowers and a get well card via Linda, and I want to tell her how touched I am she’d thought of me. I know she can’t really afford flowers on her pension. Several times I’ve paid the excess on her insurance policy for Casper’s treatment, without Linda knowing.

The bell tinkles and we both look towards the door. The smile on my face freezes. My stomach floods with anxiety as Casper scrambles towards me, panting hard, his pink tongue lolling to the side. Sweat pricks my armpits and my vision tunnels. Mrs Bainbridge stands in front of me, and I can see her lips moving out of the corner of my eye but I can’t rip my eyes away from Casper. From the saliva spilling from between his needle-sharp teeth.

‘Jenna?’ Kelly’s face looms towards mine.

I can hear my name but it’s as if I’m underwater. I press my palms against the front of my desk and wheel my chair backwards and run to the loo. Nausea swirls and I scoop cold water into my palms and splash my face before pulling out a rough blue paper towel and dabbing my skin dry. In the mirror my reflection stares back at me, bright red hair and haunted eyes. Why am I so scared of Casper? He’s a third of the size of Johnson, and anyway, I love all dogs.

A fist thuds against the door. ‘You all right in there, Jen? Kelly said you looked terrified.’

‘Fine thanks, Rach,’ I call, but I’m not fine at all. My legs are shaking so hard I sink down onto the lid of the toilet and drop my head into my hands. What’s happening to me? Since seeing Fiona, the medium, on Saturday these ephemeral feelings that swamp me, snatching my breath and accelerating my pulse, are becoming darker. More frequent. There’s an almost constant unease gnawing at the pit of my stomach. I can’t stop thinking about this second energy, and I’ve never believed in stuff like that before. I’m not sure I do now, but still. Something has changed, and I don’t mind admitting I’m scared of it, this foreboding that’s ingrained itself into my being. What does it mean? I’m not in danger, am I? And in my mind I think I hear a scream, short and sharp. But I can’t be sure.