The evenings passed by quickly these days. The time when she had lain on the sofa idly watching TV between the infrequent calls was gone. Now she filled her time in other ways, and jumped every time the phone vibrated next to her on the kitchen table. It was the same now, and when she glanced at the clock on the wall she realised it was just gone midnight, which meant she ought to have gone to bed if she was to deal with the challenges of the next day. In other words, it was downright lucky that the call got through.

“Kerstin! I’m so glad you’ve called! I’ve been really worried.”

“Worried?” said Kerstin. “Why?”

“Oh, you know. You’ve got your troubles, and I don’t know how well you deal with them on a day-to-day basis.”

“You mean whether I’m predisposed to suicide?” said Kerstin, getting straight to the point. “I’m not, so no need to worry on that account. On the other hand . . .”

She interrupted herself, which made Sandra curious.

“On the other hand what?”

“Oh, I’m getting there. Something has happened that I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Nothing serious, I hope?”

“In a way,” said Kerstin. “But not in the way that you think.”

Sandra didn’t know what she was supposed to think, so she was presumably going to be surprised by whatever followed. She often was during her conversations with Kerstin.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m listening.”

“I’ve met someone I hate,” Kerstin said gloomily. “That’s why I haven’t called in a while. I had to think about how to deal with it.”

The target of Kerstin’s hatred was something that Sandra was more than familiar with. The only thing was that since their last call, Sandra had discovered that the hit-and-run-driver-slash-photographer was no longer alive. Kerstin couldn’t have met him.

“Met?” Sandra said, uncomprehending.

“Or . . . Not met. That’s the wrong word,” Kerstin corrected herself.

Good. Hatred was a big thing, not to be used recklessly.

“I’ve known her for several years. Socialised with her.”

“Her?” said Sandra in confusion, thinking that Kerstin must be on the wrong track.

“It’s a pretty long story,” Kerstin said apologetically with a sigh. “I think I have to start from the beginning. If you’ve got time?”

“We’ve got all night,” said Sandra, who suddenly felt no need at all to regain her strength ahead of work the next day.

And then Kerstin told her the tale.