‘Just a moment,’ he says, ‘I need to find it.’ There are red patches high on his cheeks. Whatever he’s about to show me, it’s important that I get my reaction right. ‘Here.’ He holds the phone out so that I can see the screen. It’s a video. He presses play.

She is moving, smiling, talking to the camera. It’s her. It’s Sarah, I recognize her at once. She is singing. Singing. What is that tune? I recognize it. Her voice is high, clear, childlike; I remember what Marianne said about her voice. She’s singing to the camera. To Alastair.

And Alastair still has no idea that I knew her. Because I never told him. Because I held that back.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. It’s supposed to be pretty, but all the hairs on my neck stand up. She approaches, closer and closer, as if she’s about to step right out of the screen. A shudder runs right through me, my mind flashing on that body on the couch, because I can’t escape a sense of horror, seeing her so alive on this video and then her death, that carpet of flies in her flat. My stomach heaves; I have to look away. I pick up my napkin and press it to my mouth where sour saliva is welling up. ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry.’

I push my plate away and sit back in my chair. I cannot get that image out of my head: her dead on the sofa, all her features worn away. My breath is coming in short, tight lungfuls. I lean down to my bag and fumble in it for my own phone. ‘This isn’t making sense,’ I tell him. ‘What you’ve said about her parents. Something must have happened. But we can check. I know who I can call.’

I dig in my bag again, this time for the scrap of paper that I wrote Mike Bernard’s phone number on. The coroner’s officer. I set it on the slatted table, holding it tight under my fingertips so it won’t blow away. The varnish on my nails is chipped, flaking away like everything else. I type the numbers into my phone and press call. Mike picks up almost immediately.

I’m breathless as I try to explain why I’m calling and remind him who I am.

‘Yes,’ he tells me, ‘Jennifer Arden. I certainly remember. Is there something I can help you with?’

I set the phone down on the slatted table and put it on speakerphone, so we both can hear. Alastair’s eyes are locked onto mine. There’s an echoing racket around us, but we can still hear Mike’s voice. I wrap an arm around my waist and lean down to speak into the phone.