The young cop handed her paperwork from the hospital emergency department and she found the other necessary information from the practice records. As she completed the form, she took a deep breath, wanting to monitor her own reaction to this: the certainty that she had killed a man. Her hand trembled as she held the pen, but she controlled it enough to sign her name with her usual sweep and definition.

When Paula switched her phone back on to active mode, there were several missed calls from Anita. Then her phone dinged with a message.

How are you? Can we have dinner or something? I could come to your place. A x

Paula’s instinct was to retreat, go directly home, engage with no one. How should she act now? How did someone who’d killed a human being behave? Would she feel compelled to blurt it out to Anita the minute she saw her? That would be foolish. It would be unfair to do that to her friend before she’d thought this through properly herself. She typed, Not tonight … too tired, but then deleted it. Anita would be anxious about how Paula was handling the phone video news and she would not be fobbed off without explanation for the second evening in a row.

Instead, Paula texted back: Movie maybe? Too tired to be good company for anything else. P x

She wasn’t sure Anita would be satisfied with that—she might insist on an all-emotions-hanging-out debrief about Stacey—but five minutes later there was a reply.

Good thinking. I’m shredded too but need to see you. Only found one movie that isn’t a) violent, b) grim or c) superheroes. So it’s Japanese Quirky Family Drama. OK? Can you make 6.45 session in Newtown?

Anita booked tickets online and Paula drove straight there from the surgery. There was only time for a quick greeting hug before the two women found their seats in the darkened cinema, the ads already playing.

Paula was relieved she’d suggested a movie. It gave her time to settle a bit before any conversation would be required of her. Sitting together would hopefully neutralise Anita’s worry, but because they were sitting in the dark Anita couldn’t scrutinise her too closely.

Paula felt excoriated by the last week—Rochelle, the video of Stacey, Ian Ferguson—as if all her protective coating had been scraped off, so now her emotional responses were overwrought, overly reactive. During the three-minute trailer for a mawkish English rom-com, she found herself actually crying over the sixty-something couple finding love in the autumn of their lives in Umbria.

Anita must have heard the tearful sniffing, because she glanced sideways to check on her. Then she leaned against Paula, arm pressed against arm, and rolled her shoulder with wordless affection. Paula leaned back into Anita and rolled her shoulder in reply. It was comforting. It was good.