Chapter 6: The Keys

The day William got the keys was a cold morning in early 2006.

I still remember the way Josephine told me about it — no big announcement, just a passing line over tea:

“He got the keys today. They're letting him back in.”

After all we’d lived through, the news should have felt like a victory. A home rebuilt. A chapter closing. But instead, it felt like the air shifted. Something unspoken crept into the space between us.

Josephine packed up her things like she always did — her holdall bag, half-zipped — but this time, it felt heavier.

She left that morning for Bray, like every Monday. But she didn’t come back on Tuesday.

Not that week.
Not the next.

William had a house again. A front door that locked. A mailbox with his name.

And with that, the story we had built together started to dissolve.

There were no harsh words. No arguments. Just silence that widened over time.

Calls went unanswered. Plans left hanging.
Josephine drifted further into Bray. Into William’s new world — one we were no longer part of.

I didn’t blame her. Not really. She had poured so much into holding him together. It made sense she’d stay to see it through.

But I could feel the door closing. On our side of things.

The trio was breaking.

That spring, I stopped asking when she’d visit. She stopped saying when.

I began to realise that William’s new keys didn’t just open his rebuilt house.

They quietly locked us out.

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