Nevis sits and lays the back of her hand on her friend’s cheek. From the corner of her eye she sees Narinder stiffen but she does not say anything.

Satnam shows no sign of reacting, but feeling a softening in her friend’s body, Nevis reaches out and takes her hand, which is papery and covered, now, with a light bloom, like dust. From the bed comes a soft sigh which could be nothing more than a breath.

‘I miss you,’ Nevis says simply. ‘I understand more about what you said to me on Sunday night now. But I love you and I want you to know that we’ll find a way out of this together.’

Silence falls, broken by Narinder.

‘You see, she doesn’t know you’re here.’

But Nevis, remembering the sigh, says, ‘I think she knows.’ She strokes Sat’s hair in the casual, rhythmic way she always did when they were sitting on the sofa together watching rubbish telly. She watches Satnam’s face, the quiver of the eyebrows, the tics playing around the jawline.

‘She’s speaking,’ Nevis says.

Narinder’s face opens. ‘You heard something?’

‘Not with words.’

Nevis watches Narinder slump back, disappointed, then turning to her friend, leans in and twists her neck around so she can lay beside her cheek to cheek. Something is happening, as if Nevis and Satnam have plugged into one another. Suddenly, she can feel Satnam’s breath, her heartbeat, the thrumming of the neurones in her brain. She is trying to tell me something.

Nevis rights herself. ‘What are you wanting to say?’

But there comes no reply.

‘That’s enough now,’ Narinder says. ‘She’s tired.’

On her way out of the hospital, Nevis stops to look at the cafeteria table where she sat with Sondra waiting for Honor to arrive what seems like months ago now. In the short time since then she has become a different person. Anguish for that younger, more innocent self curls like a dead leaf inside her. No question but she is older, wiser and more cynical. She walks through the revolving doors into the car park, preoccupied with those thoughts until in her pocket her mobile phone buzzes and interrupts them. A text from Luke comes up on screen.

Just remembered. The older man’s car? Dark blue Volvo.

She stops in her tracks, feels her legs weaken, a sharp rap to her brain as if someone were knocking on it, thinks someone is knocking on it. A dark blue Volvo. Her legs are trembling now. A passer-by stops. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yes, yes, thank you. I’ve had a shock is all.’

It is more than a shock. It is what Satnam was trying to tell her. It seems so obvious now.

The man leaving their flat that night wasn’t Mark Ratner. It was Christopher Cullen, the Dean.

Chapter 46

Nevis