They leaned against the wall, body language like teenagers after a nervous first date. She was reminded of that, being walked home from pubs by boys while still at school, snogging their faces off out of sight of the house. Not that she would’ve cared what Dorothy and Jim thought back then, grunge nihilist that she was. Stumbling through the door in the early hours, sometimes staggering into the viewing rooms to chat to one of the bodies about the meaning of life, once or twice going through to the workshop and climbing into an empty coffin just to see what it was like. And once, really hammered, climbing onto a tray of the body fridge and sliding herself in.

She was drunk enough now, energised by the booze and the familiarity of easy conversation with her ex-husband. It was painful being reminded of the best friend she’d lost when they split. Husbands and lovers come and go, but she and Craig were friends back then, comfortable knowledge built up between them, and he threw that away. She tried to remind herself of that as he stood here smiling. It was his fault. But she found herself softening as they shared a joke about a slouching emo kid passing by, then an elderly man in red cords, beige jacket and fedora.

‘This is me,’ she said, angling her head towards the house over the wall.

‘It is,’ he said, swaying a little.

She wondered how drunk he was.

Woodpigeons cooed at each other in the pine tree looming over the wall, flapping wings as they flitted from branch to branch, one following the other as they moved in a coy dance.167

‘Will you get in trouble?’ she said.

He frowned. ‘From who?’

‘Fiona.’

‘For what?’

Jenny splayed her hands out. ‘For getting drunk with your ex-wife.’

Craig smiled and shook his head. ‘She’ll understand.’

Jenny raised her eyebrows. ‘Must be a change for you, having a nice doormat to get back to.’

He gave her a look as if to say, come on. ‘That’s not fair.’

‘Hey, I don’t know anything about your current marriage and I want to keep it that way.’

‘Fine by me.’

The woodpigeons flew out of the tree and onto the wall above them, one strutting after the other, the female flapping, edging away in small bursts, keeping a short distance between herself and the male bird. Schrödinger appeared at the end of the wall having leapt up from the other side. He hunkered down and began stalking the birds, but they spotted him and fluttered into the top of the tree, making the uppermost branches sway. Schrödinger skulked along the wall then disappeared back into the garden.

‘That your cat?’

‘Mum’s. It’s called Schrödinger, Hannah’s idea.’

‘She’s some girl.’

‘She is.’

Jenny closed her eyes for a moment longer than a blink, felt her head spin.