Luckily enough, the other occupants of the car were sullen teenagers. They spent the journey arguing with their mother about how long they’d have to stay at the wake. Somebody called Josh was having a party to celebrate the end of term and they wanted their mother to drive them to Enfield. I kept quiet, working on my story. By the time we arrived at the house I almost believed in it myself.

Evan, I later learned, was a vet. His surgery was on Hendon Broadway and the family home—detached, half-timbered, shadowed by conifers—stood in a cul-de-sac behind the main road. The forecourt was jammed with cars and the front door was open. I heard the hum of voices and almost flunked it, but I was here now and there was no turning back.

The living room was already full of people, with more arriving. A young boy, wearing a suit too large for him, stood by the door holding a tray of glasses.

‘I’m Arthur,’ he said. ‘Would you like a Prosecco? There’s sandwiches over there. Are you a friend of Granny’s? I’m sorry, but there’s lots of people here I don’t know.’

His forehead was bumpy with spots. I couldn’t bear to lie to a grandchild, especially one suffering from acne, so I thanked him and moved into the room.

The teenagers from the car had made a beeline for a sofa. They sprawled there, texting, legs spread, taking up all the space. A middle-aged woman wearing a fascinator glared at them but they didn’t move. She perched on the arm of the sofa, caught my eye and beckoned me over with a scarlet fingernail.

‘Weren’t you at her sixtieth?’ she said. ‘I never forget a face.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m from long ago.’

‘My God, she was pissed, wasn’t she? Remember her dancing with Donald? They’d call it twerking now. Quite blatant, but that’s Susan for you.’ She pulled me close. ‘She even tried it on with my Harold but he sent her packing, bless his cotton socks. And she was supposed to be my friend.’ She shook her head; the black feathers quivered. ‘To be honest, I never liked her. All that gushy-gushy girly charm didn’t fool me. Did she have a bash at yours?’

‘My what?’

‘Your husband.’ She indicated Evan, across the room. ‘Poor old Evan. No wonder he preferred dogs.’

That’s when I learned that Evan was a vet. ‘I had a Border collie,’ I said. ‘He’s been dead for nearly a year and I miss him every day.’

The woman drained her glass. ‘God knows how he put up with her. Especially after what happened in Hastings.’ She wandered off.

Through the crowd, Evan caught my eye. He gave me a smile and made his way over to me.

‘So you two were nurses together,’ he said.

‘Er, just at college.’

‘Prudence … Prudence …’ He thought for a moment. ‘I’m sure the name’s familiar. Did you share that flat in Nethercott Road?’