When we get inside, Poppy turns to smile at me. I know this is exactly how she imagined a reaper party: everyone dressed in black and the house dark except for clusters of church candles on every surface – the floor, the table by the front door, one on each of the stairs – so everything looks slightly golden, like on a still autumn afternoon.

We peer through the first open door to find it’s a living room. The curtains are drawn and all the furniture has been pushed back, the rug that must have been in the middle of the floor now rolled up and propped in the corner by the window like a massive cigar. It’s cluttered with candles of all sizes and colours as well, their flames flickering steadily against the walls, weeping wax on to the mismatched saucers they’re sitting on.

A group of people I don’t recognise is gathered in the middle of the room. They’re dancing, or trying to – this song not cheerful enough – and I can tell that Poppy is itching to join them, as she takes my hand and leads me in. When she does, we see that whoever lives there has knocked through so the living room opens straight into the kitchen. That’s just as dark apart from more church candles that have been grouped into three and put on dinner plates that are dotted around the kitchen surfaces and the small square dining table.

Poppy tugs my hand, gesturing at Esen and Dev who are by the fridge, bickering in that way Rosh and I used to when my side of the room was a mess or she didn’t want to turn out the light because she was reading. That way only siblings can when they despise each other one moment then are laughing at an episode of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air the next. It suddenly makes me miss Rosh very much. When Esen steps out of the way to snatch her phone off the kitchen counter, I get a flash of pink sequins and the shock of it is enough to make me gasp.

‘Dev!’ Poppy squeals, letting go of my hand to run towards her. ‘You look amazing!’

She literally jumps on Dev, the pair of them laughing and swaying side to side, almost losing their balance as they hug with such ferocity, I can’t help but wonder when they got so close. I don’t know whether it was the mini golf or the whole Poppy dying thing, but they seem genuinely pleased to see one each other.

‘Is that the dress you were looking at in Primark?’ I ask when they finally let go of one another.

‘Yes!’ Dev puts her hands on her hips and lifts her chin to grin at me.

She gives me a twirl and she looks so happy, all glowing and glittery and giddy like a normal teenager.