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unwrapped him and this time had a good proper look. This man had, after all, if briefly,
     entered one of my waking nightmares. And although I don’t believe in ghosts, shades or any rubbish like that, I felt I owed
     this fellow madman a bit more than just closing his eyes.

Chapter Three
    T here was more blood, just below his chest, than I’d remembered. He had put his hand there, it was true, but I couldn’t see
     any cuts even when I washed him. All there was was a small red hole, like a pimple, just under his breastbone. I looked at
     it closely but it meant nothing to me so I carried on washing, my ears straining for the sirens like they always do now.
    After a while, when nothing happened, Aggie came down with a cup of tea. If it’d been Nan, I would’ve covered the body, but
     there was no need around my younger sister. Not squeamish in any way, Aggie. Strange that Nan is, given what she’s been brought
     up around, but there it is and that’s that.
    ‘He’s a dark, vicious-lookin’ thing,’ she said, as she passed the cup and saucer to me.
    ‘I think he might’ve been a fighter,’ I said, as I rinsed the carbolic off my hands, then dried them on a cloth.
    Aggie got in closer to have a better look. Fascinated, she always was, even as a kid. I once heard Dad say that ifshe hadn’t been a girl he’d have passed the business over to Aggie instead of me. I wasn’t meant to hear that, of course,
     but I don’t feel anything about it because I can see what he meant. Not that it’s death itself that interests Aggie. No, it’s
     the human body. She always liked nature at school and I think sometimes that maybe if things had been different she might
     have found herself a position in that line. But the same as everyone now, she works for the war effort. In her case in a factory,
     filling tins with golden syrup and suchlike and laughing with other girls whose very breath would turn the air as blue as
     their works’ overalls.
    ‘Doris said that Fred Bryant brought him in,’ Aggie said, wrinkling her nose in disgust at mention of the policeman’s name.
     Nobody likes Fred that much. He’s an idiot a lot of the time, with his opinions about everyone and the way he gossips. But,
     like coppers the world over, he has to be tolerated.
    ‘Yes. Fred reckons the blast killed him,’ I said, and then I recounted my own story about the deceased and his possible route
     into my parlour. I suppose I must have needed to tell someone I felt might have some sympathy with me and what I’d done.
    ‘I mean, he can’t really have been stabbed,’ I said, ‘but it bothered me so I’ve been looking at him while I’ve been washing
     and…’
    ‘What about this?’ Aggie said, pointing to the red pimple under his breastbone.
    ‘I don’t know. Not a stab wound, that’s for sure.’
    ‘Could be.’
    I looked across at her, frowning. ‘Ag, it’s a spot or something.’
    Aggie leaned back on the bench behind her and lit a cigarette. In the yellow light from the one bare gas mantle she looked
     older and paler than when her makeup was just freshly done. But two kids and a husband who chose to hop off with his best
     mate’s missus will do that for you.
    ‘Not if whoever stabbed him used a pin or something like that,’ she said.
    ‘A pin?’
    ‘A long one, like a hatpin,’ Aggie said. ‘One of them big ones like Mum has on her mourning hat. Stick one of them into a
     bloke, you’d kill him.’
    ‘No.’
    She got up and came back over to the body. ‘Look, it’s around where his heart is, Frank,’ she said. ‘Stick something in the
     heart and you’ve had it. Ask Dr O’Grady if you don’t believe me.’
    ‘I don’t not believe you,’ I said. ‘It’s just that it’s such a strange idea. I mean, who would do something like that?’
    She shrugged. ‘A woman. You said he said “she” stabbed him, didn’t you?’
    ‘Yes. But with a hatpin?’
    ‘Why not? If he was attacking her, she’d use