‘Well I don’t,’ I growled.

Miss Drury half turned to look at me. ‘You don’t?’

‘No.’

OF COURSE SHE ISN’T!

It may be helpful to add at this point that the more emphatically I stated that Miss Hahn wasn’t dead the less certain I became (deep within) that she had survived. Which I suppose says something moderately interesting about the connection between language and the emotions. Although I’m damned if I have the time or the inclination to think about all that right now/possibly ever.

We sat together in silence for several more minutes while Miss Drury struggled to regain her equilibrium. I was signally incapable of regaining mine.

OF COURSE SHE ISN’T DEAD!

Get a grip on yourself, Mr Huff! Miss Hahn chastised me.

Because while at one level I knew that the death of Miss Hahn might make forgetting her easier (‘Out of sight, out of mind’ etc.) … (Miss Hahn said nothing at this, merely rolled her eyes, drolly) … on another, I worried that it might actually make it harder, dammit (that dangerous capacity we foolish men have to idealize the fairer sex etc.)!

We hit the road again. Miss Drury was very quiet.

OF COURSE SHE ISN’T DEAD!

I – for my part – felt an indescribable need, a compulsion, to speak about Miss Hahn. Even to just … to just … to say her name out loud. That was all. Just to say her name. As if uttering her name might almost be enough to make her corporeal, give her ghostly self a little extra substance, temporarily …

Substance?! Miss Hahn chuckled, wryly. But I never had any substance in the first place, Mr Huff!

‘Carla Hahn, Carla Hahn, Carla Hahn,’ I found myself murmuring.

OF COURSE SHE ISN’T DEAD!

Oh dear, Miss Hahn sighed.

‘When Clifford first told me I just … I felt like my legs would give way,’ Miss Drury suddenly started up again (as if she too might be suffering from the same compulsion), ‘like it simply didn’t make any … it wasn’t possible. Then I suddenly found myself thinking, But it’s so terribly fitting, Alys! It’s so terribly … so terribly fitting!’ She shook her head, horrified, plainly consumed by guilt at harbouring such ideas.

OF COURSE SHE ISN’T!

‘Because of the Clearys?’ I asked, slightly bemused.

Oh, here we go again! Miss Hahn snorted.

‘I mean I was constantly trying to undermine her sense of … of connection with the Cleary family,’ Miss Drury confided. ‘I just didn’t think it was healthy. Either she needed to embrace it fully, you know, embrace it – fully – spiritually – and celebrate it, openly, or … or just forget about it and move on. But instead she insisted on living in this … in a kind of … I suppose you could call it a kind of “emotional purgatory”. She just didn’t seem capable of—’

OF COURSE SHE ISN’T!

‘Perhaps if you drove me straight to the airport …’ I interrupted.