Getting more messages from Sabine over the next few days, I felt bad, as if I’d turned into one of the rat controllers. Then I thought of what Cal Janssen had said about replying when there was no future in it: what’s the point? Sabine had so much pride; she was bound to give up sooner or later. But when, instead, she rang and left a voicemail in an urgent tone, I couldn’t ignore her anymore. I returned the call. She said she needed to speak to me. She asked if we could meet. I agreed.

Sabine had suggested a loud pub at King’s Cross station. My plan was to drink sparkling water, but when I arrived she was in front of two large white wines. Earl’s dog, Coño, was at her feet, but that wasn’t what caught me off guard. It was her appearance.

She’d never had an ounce of fat to spare but now she was skeletal. Her collarbones protruded from the top of her black shoestring dress. Her chest seemed to cave inwards, her lips were tinged blue, and her skin was chalky. Despite it being late spring, she hugged a thick duffel coat around her.

“Sabine, what’s wrong?” I said.

“Nothing.”

“You’re too thin.”

“I lose my appetite,” she said irritably. “It happens. Then it comes right again.”

“A few months ago, you were fine—”

“That’s what you think.”

I considered my time in the hospital, then in the flat. “Are you ill?”

She pushed one of the glasses over to me; her nails were bitten to bleeding.

Coño barked.

“Are you looking after her for Earl?” I asked.

She narrowed her eyes. “He said, Why not take Coño for a bit, now that Meggie’s never around?”

“That’s not fair.”

“No?” She took out her phone, glancing at the screen. “Can you walk with me to St. Pancras? I need to get the nineteen thirty-nine to Paris.”

“Sure,” I said.

She downed her wine, then said, “Drink.”

I shook my head.

“C’mon, Meggie . . .” She smiled.

After downing my wine too, I followed her across the concourse to a back exit. Behind the building, I felt disoriented. The streets between King’s Cross and St. Pancras were deserted. The Channel Tunnel was being extended, both stations refurbished and connected. The blocks around us had become demolition or construction sites. Cranes, gaping holes, rows of metal rods, and scaffolding.

Sabine stopped under the sulphurous light of a streetlamp.

I gave Coño a scratch between the ears and she growled at me. Yeah, I deserve it, I thought. I hadn’t been in touch with Earl for months either.

When I looked back at Sabine, her eyes were wet. She’d never cried in front of me before. Reaching out, I touched her sleeve. I felt the coarse material of her coat, her arm buried like a twig inside.