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perfect for converting. It could be another room, or maybe that could be your writing room, and the bathroom has a lot of light, no bath, but we don’t do baths anyway, do we?”
    He looked out the window at the other houses, all standing to empty attention around him. They would all be filled, filled with the potential of the lives within them. Each person in each house will leave their own ghost behind. The houses may look identical on the outside but soon their insides would all be different, changed forever.
    Alison came in behind him and said, “Did you hear me? About the attic? Have you seen the bathroom?”
    Martin didn’t turn around, just replied, “I know how I’m going to start the book.”
    ***

Chapter Four
    Lucy . Martin changed her name twice in three different drafts. Anna. Nicola. Lucy . He watched her, writing as a breeze from the opened window stroked her hair and shadows moved across her sleeping face; her delicate hands trembled as she held the syringe and all the tension of the moment; her echoing hours, waiting for Gregor.
    * * *
    She hears a knock. Where is it coming from? Somewhere in the distance. Focus. In the room? No. Again, two knocks. Archie will answer it. She feels around for the thin cover and pulls it over her. Archie’s feet thump down the hallway. She can let her mind slump back, and everything slides away from her, like the tide going out.
    Archie looks through the spyhole. In the dark corridor is the skeleton of Bradley. The blue tracksuit hangs like plastic bags on a scarecrow. He picks the loose skin at the side of his face. He shifts his weight from foot to foot. Archie pulls back the bolt lock and opens the door.
    “You took your time,” he says.
    Bradley just looks back at Archie and scratches his face. That’s the wrong answer, his eyes say. Archie puffs his chest out. He is in his vest, underpants, and socks, with remote control in hand.
    “What? You needing another hit? You going to come and get it then? This shit won’t just walk out of here and sell itself.”
    Bradley takes a step back. Archie steps into the hallway, the carpet sticking to his socks. Bradley turns his head and closes his eyes, his face contorting to a grimace. Fucking junkies, Archie thinks. He reaches his hand to Bradley’s shoulder to pull him inside, then sees movement from the corner of his eye.
    A bright light of pain blinds him, his right knee explodes, and everything in his head is sharp and jagged. As he falls he is caught by strong arms and his mind wildly flips to the cover of a romance novel. He looks up at the face of his attacker. Gregor, with a lump hammer, dragging him one-handed back into the flat.
    Archie throws his head around desperately looking for a way to break free, he reaches out to catch the doorframe, but the pain has broken up his senses and his arms flail uselessly. In the corridor he sees Bradley still standing like a plastic Halloween figure with a frozen fear in his eyes. Bradley mouths, “I’m sorry.”
    Gregor kicks the door shut.
    Archie’s looks up again to see Gregor’s face in grim concentration as he raises his arm. Archie tries to turn away but Gregor’s elbow lands on his nose. Blood fills his mouth and he chokes and tries to cough it out. Bolts of pain rush up from his leg and he gasps and gags. Gregor drops him to the floor.
    Gregor pushes the door to his left. Old water stands in the bath, grey with a thin film of brown and white scum on the surface. He turns. There is a door on the right. He steps over Archie who writhes around in his own blood, gurgling and coughing.
    He listens at the door for a second, then steps back and kicks it open. In the dark the blonde girl screams. She is crouching on the other side of the bed, the sheet twisted around her, trying to hide behind it. He strides across the room and grabs her arm. She is wearing only a pair of boxer shorts and the sheet trails behind her as he pulls her screaming to her feet, out of the dark