‘Ah, yes – because they are fools who genuinely love the dress, so they are protected,’ explained the Sage. ‘You see, we are all human, frail and flawed. We all find it impossible, sometimes, to resist our own strong desires. When we do harm to ourselves or to others, it is often because our better judgement has been paralysed by what feels like an urgent need. But the important thing is this: when our hearts are fully engaged in our actions, even the harmful ones, we are not beyond redemption. All hope is lost, however, when we are not infatuated, not helpless with desire, and yet still, from a position of clear-eyed objectivity, choose to behave in ways that promote evil. Neither of you would ever have bought the dress for yourself – you both instantly recognised its loathsomeness – and yet one of you bought it, and one accepted it into her home without a word of protest. Hence: your hands. But know this: whatever happens to the body, the true Self – who we really are – cannot be destroyed. We are Awareness, not flesh.’

Perdita and Dolores didn’t believe the Sage for a minute. Still, their hands were causing them such torment that they were willing to try anything. They hurried to Dolores’ flat and, together, they tore the dress apart and burned the shreds of it in the barbecue on Dolores’ patio. Within seconds, the skin on their hands was once again skin-coloured and all their wounds had healed.

Chapter 14

14

from Origami by Kim Tribbeck

How typical of me that the one and only friendship fantasy I’ve ever entertained turned out to involve someone who wasn’t real. Ten minutes ago, Charlie Zailer’s phone rang and guess what? It looks as if there is no such woman as Faith Kendell. No bone cancer sufferer with a daughter by that name was on Ward 10 of the RGI on Tuesday, 6 January. There’s apparently more evidence that Faith was a fabrication, but I’m not allowed to know what it is.

You’ve got to hand it to her, whoever she is. Inventing a fake identity? Why not choose the name Faith, to make anyone who falls for it feel extra stupid when they find out they’ve been duped?

Instead of viewing this incident as embarrassing, I’m going to interpret it in the most flattering way possible, as confirmation that I’ve been right all along about friends. In short: they’re hopeless. My ideal friend doesn’t exist in this world.