‘I have to give—’ I start, but Chunjuan gets in first.

‘It’s good you are here, Natalia. The school wants to hold a memorial service for Yin before the end of the year.’

‘What?’

‘They say it will help everyone cope with their exams.’

‘That’s bullshit.’ It slips out of my mouth before I can stop it and Chunjuan gives me a disappointed look. ‘Sorry, but—it’s too soon. It’s not right.’

The police haven’t given up, at least I don’t think they have, so why should we? I don’t know what to believe anymore.

‘I understand why they want to do it. Maybe it’s good to close it off. To finish the year properly.’

‘No. It’s way too soon!’

Memorials are for remembering dead people, which is a way of saying that you plan to forget them really soon. The school acts like they want us to talk about our feelings, but really what they want is for us to pretend we’re only having nice pastel weepy emotions and concentrate on getting the kind of marks that will get us into law or medicine.

‘We’re not giving up. I will never give up.’ Chunjuan places a hand on her chest. ‘I still feel in my heart that she must be alive. I would know if she was gone. But it makes sense to do something to help you girls cope.’

Chunjuan reaches across the bench and catches my hand. She’s got proper surgeon’s hands, small and pale with long thin fingers, sinew underneath. I wonder if she’s still working or if Yin’s disappearance has cracked normal life apart completely. I can’t imagine her operating on people’s brains in the state she’s in.

I really, really want to believe that Yin is still alive and I’m afraid I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I want a church service.

‘Will you say something nice at the memorial? You know her best.’

It’s Chunjuan asking, with her cold hands and lined face, haunting her too-big clothes and I nod yes, even though I’m not the one who knows Yin best anymore.

The house is too quiet. ‘Where are Al and Nelly?’

‘Science camp. Yin was supposed to be skiing with Milla’s family this week.’ Chunjuan says it in a matter-of-fact way, and it shouldn’t shock me, but the thought of Yin going away with someone else’s family for the holidays makes my head spin with jealousy.

We talk, or I talk, because Chunjuan wants to hear inconsequential stories about Mum and Dad and Liv and some of the other girls at school, the ones that went to Junior School with Yin and I, and the whole time the television is on, muted, in the background with a cooking show.