‘It means a fear of old people. It’s a real thing. Said I suffered “psychological trauma” cos of me dad’s business. Made it up, of course, but she seemed to believe me. And now you’re dragging me away from me regular Saturday night horror film, hur hur! Night of the Dead it was, and I tell you …’

‘Cut out the spooky stuff, Kezia,’ Susan says, but not sharply. ‘And let’s just get this done, yes? How come you’ve got good old Dennis, by the way?’

Kez swivels her head between us. ‘Good old Dennis? Are you kidding? Stinkin’ bag of fur more like! Never stops pooin’. I’ve said I’ll look after it temporarily, like. Wish I hadn’t. They found it at old man McKinley’s house. Did you hear?’

Susan nods. ‘Yes. It was very sad, wasn’t it?’

Kez shrugs. ‘Aye, very sad. RIP an’ all that. Didn’t you have to visit him as part of the COMMS thing? Anyway, I’ve only got it until St Woof’s, the rescue centre in Whitley Bay, find a space. They’ve said just a few days. Which is just as well, because it flippin’ reeks and, and … oh no. You dirty, horrible brute!’

Dennis has hunkered down for a poo, and I suddenly feel so sorry for the dog. His sad look is still there, and now he’s getting shouted at by Kez for something he can’t understand.

Kez makes gagging noises and fishes a black plastic poo bag from her pocket. ‘I hate this bit. Really hate it.’

Susan reaches over and plucks the bag from her hand. ‘Don’t worry,’ she says. ‘I will do it.’ Quick as anything, she puts her hand in the bag, scoops up Dennis’s poo, turns the whole thing inside out and ties the top. She deposits the bag in a bin on a lamppost and comes back, smiling. ‘There,’ she says. ‘Easy-peasy! Good boy, Dennis!’ The old dog licks her hand gratefully.

Kez grunts. ‘Hmph. Thanks.’

And I think: Clever Susan! Now Kez owes us.

‘Anyway. What was your text all about?’ says Kez. ‘What’s it got to do with my challenge?’

‘Ah yes. Your challenge, Kezia. Let me just reiterate. You say that you will give ten pounds to anyone who will stay alone in your father’s funeral parlour at night for half an hour?’

Hearing Susan say it out loud like that makes my bum clench in fear.

There are dead people there!