‘The stuff in this blog was mad. Necrophiliacs, people with walls of knives. All that.’

‘Sounds like the software engineers at work,’ Hannah said. ‘Have you noticed if someone fricassees and eats their lover’s body parts, the cook is always in IT? And talking of bad dates, one guy greeted me by saying, You’re quite pretty for someone in a wheelchair.’

‘Oh Christ, really?’

‘I can’t be arsed with trying to meet someone at the moment either. I wonder if looking for men online is more fun than actually meeting them.’

‘Much like house-hunting online, as opposed to turning up and seeing the desperation in the eyes of the poor bastards who’ve spent three hours cleaning away all residue of their sticky children and moulting dogs, and then you realise within two seconds of stepping into the house that it’s not for you, but you have to go through the whole sad rigmarole of traipsing round saying, “That’s nice,” in every room.’

‘House-hunting going well then, Meg?’

‘I’ll get there.’ My eyes drifted to the damp corner of my living room. I was fond of my rented place, despite its undoubted problems. It was on a beautiful cobbled street in Belper, and I’d started to see its uneven floors and draughty windows as features rather than irritants. It had been good in the hot weather, its perpetual dampness creating a refrigeration effect, although I’d be wandering around in my extra-long scarf tripping over penguins come winter.

‘I used to wonder if this cottage was haunted,’ Hannah said.

‘Whaaat?’ She was normally so logical, and yet she thought ghosts might be stalking the property.

‘It’s cold and there are strange noises. And you always used to look up at the ceilings …’ Hannah blushed. ‘Sorry. I know why you did that.’

‘I think we can lay the blame at the door of the geriatric boiler. You know there’s that company called Victorian Plumbing, which I always thought was a weird name. Well, my boiler actually is Victorian plumbing. And as for me looking at the ceilings …’

‘I’m sorry. I know.’

‘Yes. It’s okay. I’m over it. Most of the time I can walk into a room without thinking a family member’s going to be hanging from the rafters. It’s all good.’

Hannah winced. ‘I honestly don’t know why I said that.’

‘It’s fine. And maybe the house is haunted. It’s ancient and it has its own microclimate and socks disappear all the time. Maybe there’s a poltergeist.’

‘Ha. Yeah, why can’t poltergeists ever tidy up, if they’re in the market for shifting stuff around.’ Hannah paused. ‘Seriously though, I know you’ll battle on and work hard and get far too emotionally involved in your new case, because that’s what you’re like, but you do need time … you know, to get over your gran.’