I had a message and when I picked up my phone from the kitchen table and saw it was from Diana, I became shamefully aware of how murky my wishes were. I was hoping it would say she hadn’t found the squirrel but that she was going to stay a while and look for it.

When instead I read ‘WE’RE OUTSIDE’, my whole body went cold. I stared at the letters and desperately tried to interpret them to mean anything other than that she was outside my building and that the squirrel was with her. The radio was on; it was playing music that had suddenly become unbearable; after turning it off, I sat down to have a think.

We’re outside. If she had had a cat, for instance, in the car with her, would she have referred to herself and the cat as a we? Hardly. The squirrel was already sinking its claws into her. But that was probably to be expected.

All the awful memories and corrosive guilt I had been sweeping under the rug for the past ten years washed over me; it was a while before I could muster enough strength to stand up and go outside.

*

One and only one car was parked outside the building, a grey Audi; when I looked at it, the door opened and Diana climbed out. She was wearing the baseball cap but no sunglasses. After watching her for a while, I crossed the street. I didn’t say anything and eventually she smiled, as much as her cut lip allowed.

‘Are you afraid of me?’ she said.

I glanced at the car. My hand was clutching the shoulder strap of my handbag.

It came as a complete surprise to me when I walked away; it was as though my feet took charge of my body. When she called out after me, I started jogging back toward the front door, and I didn’t dare to check if she was following until I had pulled it closed behind me. She wasn’t; she was standing where I’d left her on the pavement, and she looked so much like Susso I froze in confusion for a few moments.

When I got back inside my flat, I locked the door. Then I sat down in the kitchen with my shoes and jacket still on. My heart was racing in my chest and I stared at my phone. I thought she would text me and nag, but she didn’t and when I looked out through the balcony door, I realised the car was gone. I hadn’t expected that and the relief I felt was difficult to disentangle. I hadn’t managed to remove my outerwear; my heels clattered against the parquet floor as I paced around the living room, wondering what I should do. For a while, I stood on the balcony, looking out at the street. But she didn’t come back.