Anthea, in particular, anchors much of the emotional core. Their relationship isn’t dramatic or overtly declared, but it grows in quiet increments, like in shared knowledge, small acts of care, and the simple fact of being understood. It’s only much later that the narrator realises what that connection was. That perhaps it was love, or maybe something adjacent to it. The book resists naming it too neatly, which feels right.

A Gift Before Dying by Malcolm Kempt has moved into that esteemed category and rating it five stars does it no justice. It's not even a ten-star read! It’s one of those rare novels that taps a finger to your forehead, looks you in the eye and says - ha! I've got you now, my new friend.