But somehow I didn’t find it unusual to be back in that draughty farmhouse where I’d grown up. I should have wondered why the people living there were strangers and didn’t seem to notice me, or why I never felt hungry or tired. But I was too happy to notice. Happy to be home after so many years. Happy that my old bedroom was full of my things. Happy that the apple tree was still there. There was no night in that place either, just a long golden twilight that never ended.