A woman stands at the window in her bedroom. She is barefoot and wears dark blue pyjamas. The buttoned shirt is tucked into the trousers, which are tied by the drawstring into a bow.

It is early enough that the sky is still dark, but she turns open the blinds to see into the driveway which runs in an upward slope along the side of the house, past her window. The light above the backdoor is on.

Through the drops of rain that cover the glass she cannot see anything that may have set off the motion sensor. Only the shape of the ash tree in the neighbours’ garden. Its outermost branches sway unevenly, so that they have no clear outline.

It has rained every day since last week, not stopping long enough for the water to drain away. Stepping out of the backdoor, she finds the surface water swollen into larger puddles, so that even though she treads slowly the water laps over the soles of her shoes. The damp spreads around her feet and cold air clings to her ankles.

After a few steps, she turns to look out onto the street beyond but hesitates. In the overgrowth at the base of the fence, she sees a fox. She first notices the white inside of its ear, then the white-grey fur of its belly. The mouth hangs open, showing black gum against teeth, and the eye she can see is closed. Its coat is yellow brown, not coppery, and dewed by the rain.

Although the fence is high, it doesn’t seem right that the fox could fall, nor that its back could be crooked and broken. She looks at it. It might have sought shelter from the rain, running from somewhere or back to something, and slipped.

The next day, a van pulls up outside the house. Hearing the engine, she returns to the bedroom window. Now it is light and the rain has stopped the view is clearer. She wears a grey sweatshirt and a pair of tapered tracksuit trousers. They are too small and the skin between the trouser-leg and her sock shows.

She had been required to describe where the fox was. In the email she had tried to be precise, in order to avoid having to point out its body. Because the driveway is publicly accessible, the council can be asked to remove it.

She watches as the man climbs from the van and takes a large blue plastic bag from the side door. He has a reddened face and is wearing an orange, sleeveless overcoat. He has blue latex gloves on both hands.

He walks up the driveway along the fence and bends to identify the fox. Without hesitation, he takes the fox by one of its back legs and lifts it, before dropping it into the bag. She sees the body briefly, stiffened into the shape it took when it fell.

Using both hands, the man ties the opening of the bag to form a knot. He walks back to the van and returns the bag to the side door. He swings it inside, where there are other blue bags, but he closes the door before it lands. She watches as he drives away.