I was told it was a car crash. But at first Facebook told me different. Someone said you had passed away of natural causes, followed by dozens of comments. It seemed the whole world was sorry. Someone from Kenya who I was sure you had never known, posted a picture of an idyllic beach and the words RIP beneath it. People had posted pictures of you on nights out, luminous coloured drinks in your hand. You had brushed your hair recently on all of them. Robert telephoned me with a runny terror that transferred itself over the phone and made me tense. That’s when he told me that you had had your body broken in two by a double decker bus. You had been driving a Mercedes, which I couldn’t believe you could have afforded. How much could a low level bank employee be earning? I quickly did the maths and found you must have had help. Someone, somewhere had handed you tatty working class notes. I thought about asking Robert right there on the telephone, but he seemed fairly cut up. That expression for when people just can’t be put back together. I thought about leaving the house to... (read more)