‘I’m doing it, Ben. She’d do it for me.’ I felt the weight of Ben’s stare as I turned to look out of the window.

I smelt death as soon I walked into the chapel of rest. So grimly distinctive was the smell of a body that had rid itself of a soul just a few hours earlier, I was tempted to turn around and leave. But I could feel Ben’s hand squeezing my own so tightly that I feared I would never be able to release myself from his grip in order to run.

The coroner told us the procedure for viewing and said we could look through the window or enter the room. Ben went to speak and I shook him away, certain he would try to convince me that staying behind the screen and viewing Eve like an antique piece of jewellery was the better option. I walked towards the door and carefully opened it, fearful at what I may find, even though I knew that the lifeless body of my beloved friend was the only thing waiting for me.

The cold hit me, along with the smell and I rested my eyes upon a high bed where Eve lay with a blanket tucked right up to her chin, as though she was a bodiless puppet.

They had told me to expect the damage the fire had done to her face, but underneath the red streaks of exposed flesh I could still see the familiar outline of my friend’s jaw, her hairline, and those protruding luscious lips.

The noise came next. Loud and animalistic reverberating around the small icy room. It was a sound so unrecognisable that I didn’t realise it was coming from me until Ben caught my weight when my legs crumbled beneath me.

‘I just knew it would be too much for you and the baby.’ Ben leant across my chest and clicked my seatbelt in.

‘How did you get back from London so quickly?’ My voice was grainy and low.

‘The guys, they chipped in for a taxi. Cost £200. There were no trains.’

I gave a feeble nod. Then I felt it, two small but firm kicks. I knew this was the moment I was supposed to share with him, to take his hand and place it on my stomach so he could feel the life of his unborn child. But I let the moment pass. I looked past him out of the window.

‘Just drive, Ben,’ I said croakily after a few moments when it seemed that Ben was still leaning over me and watching me as though I were a pot of water about to boil over.

Ben pulled himself out of the car, slammed the door shut and walked around to the driver’s side. Once we were out of the car park and driving along the road, he spoke again.