I know this sounds strange but I started thinking of her as Linda; this was a lot less exotic, but it somehow felt more truthful. This was her birth name, her real self. In fact we talked a great deal about our childhoods. She’d never been the greatest listener but now she avidly asked me questions. And she’d become more vulnerable, more un­certain. ‘Do you mind my hair like this?’ she’d asked, stroking her shorn head. My fearless friend had changed. Maybe it was our love affair; maybe it was her brush with death. During her long disappearance she’d developed cervical cancer. Though she’d now been given the all-clear, it had—not surprisingly—had a profound effect on her. Even her new growth of hair was softer.

What we didn’t talk about was her relationship with Greg. I wasn’t ready for that, not yet. She must have sensed this because she kept quiet. This was unusual behaviour, for her, but then these were unusual circumstances.

What a lot of time we’d lost! Both of us were greedy for some sort of new life together. We decided to move out of London and live in Deal. We’d get a dog. We’d swim all year round, even in the depths of winter, wearing bobble hats to keep our heads warm. We’d be two merry widows. We’d have a laugh. The whole thing seemed possible, exhilaratingly possible, compared to those pitiful day-dreams I’d had with Calvin.

We looked at seaside properties on my computer, jostling each other for a better view. We were seized with energy and started clearing out my house. Dump, dump, dump! Azra shouted, piling up the bin bags. Every day we drove to the recycling centre and flung stuff into skips; we knew all the staff and gave them doughnuts. We were open and profligate in our exuberance; we smiled at babies and joked with traffic wardens. All December it poured with rain but we didn’t care as we sorted out my past, Azra shouting, Keep, chuck, keep, chuck … only pausing at Christmas to tear apart a turkey. So she was a vegetarian? So what?

It was a sort of madness, I can see it now. But a madness born out of joy and the surprising sense that I was coming home. With Azra’s arms around me I felt safe at last. I didn’t tell her about my funeral-hopping; it creeped me out, just to think about it. That was a derangement, of another kind entirely. So, in a way, was my affair with Calvin. Tell me more about your murderer, urged Azra. Put into words, he sounded even more unlikely.