Bert’s back garden was huge. For a moment I lingered jealously, taking it all in, imagining what I would do with this space if it was mine. Most of it was taken up by a lawn, manicured to within an inch of its life. A lawnmower was abandoned in the middle, halfway along a green stripe it had been shaving on the grass. Someone was about then, either Bert or a gardener, someone called away mid task by the ringing of a phone perhaps, or an urgent call of nature.

I tried a couple of loud hellos, then followed the path to a flight of stone steps, leading down to a second area of garden, dominated by a large pool. As I looked down at the dark water a golden koi carp the size of a torpedo glimmered briefly under the surface. And there was something else. Lying at the edge of the pool was a pair of sandals, truly horrible mauve socks leading to even more horrible skinny white legs knotted with varicose veins, and a bum in a pair of khaki shorts. The rest of the body was only dimly visible, under the water.

I flung myself down the steps on to the path, on my knees, and pulled hard on the waistband of the shorts. ‘Mr Evans!’ I yelled, as I tugged at his body. ‘Bert!’ I could tell from the way his arms floated out on the surface that he was dead. The poor old sod must have had a heart attack, pitched forward and landed face down. I sank my arms in the cold water, getting one arm around his waist from underneath and grabbing the collar of his shirt with my other hand. As I hauled desperately, a tiny goldfish darted through the waterweed of his floating hair. I managed to shift his body back, only a few inches, but enough for me to grab his hair and lift his head out of the water. His face was a bluish white, slack-jawed, his pale eyes staring, as dead as any fish on any slab. I lowered his head, grabbed him by the legs, and dragged him ignominiously until his body was beached, his face turned sideways, his cheek resting on the stone kerb of the pond. Water dribbled from his gaping mouth like a gargoyle. It was not the face of a man who’d died peacefully. I knelt and felt at his neck for a pulse, just in case, but found not the faintest flicker.