I looked down at the body properly for the first time. He was neatly arranged, arms tucked underneath the white sheet covering his body so that only his shoulders, neck and head were visible. He was still dressed, the green of his uniform matching the waxy green of his skin, and for a moment I wanted to loosen his collar, thinking it might be too tight for him. His head was propped up on a cinder block, and his eyes were closed. If not for his hair, which was far more tousled than he’d ever have allowed, he could have been asleep. There was still blood on his face, and dark stains around his ear. I felt my blood start to thrum in panic.

‘I thought he was caught in a fire?’

‘They managed to put it out pretty quickly,’ Sylvie said. ‘What happened here?’ She reached out and touched my forehead where I’d scratched it waiting for Freddie in the bushes. My breath beat against my ribcage in response.

‘I caught myself on a branch last night. I was a little the worse for wear.’ If Freddie’s body was this intact, would they be able to tell he’d died before the fire?

‘Where were you drinking?’

‘The Muthaiga.’

‘Did you see Freddie?’

‘We didn’t speak. He was with the new couple; I was with Dr Gregory.’

Sylvie stayed quiet. She was looking at me from under her lashes and I was suddenly gripped by the fear that she knew I’d gone to the bungalow, that I was involved.

Gwladys looked at her watch. ‘They said we could have half an hour.’

Sylvie leaned forwards to kiss Freddie’s lips. ‘Goodbye, my love,’ she said.

The three of us left the mortuary, blinking as we stepped into the daylight. Nearby, a lone bird chattered to itself in a eucalyptus tree.

‘I’ll see you later?’ Sylvie asked me.

I nodded. She squeezed my hand and wandered off. She hadn’t asked me if I was upset. I felt an ache inside me for the fourteen-year-old boy who had first met her and Freddie, and another surge of anger against her.

Gwladys walked me to Maud’s car and we leaned against it, facing the building we’d just left. I lit a cigarette and pulled hard on it, trying to disguise the bitter taste in my mouth. Gwladys’s face was contorted, as if she was trying to decide which was more distasteful, talking to me, or withholding gossip.

‘She was doing some strange things in there, before you showed up,’ she said eventually.

‘Such as?’ If Sylvie had worked out that I was involved, could I trust her to keep it to herself? I imagined the police arriving with serious expressions and handcuffs, and my body flooded with adrenalin and shame.

‘She kissed Freddie.’

‘That doesn’t sound so strange.’

‘It was the way she did it. I heard her say something too.’