I'll say this for terminal cancer, it does give you the luxury of planning. I knew when Dad would die, I knew how much his life was insured for and I knew I would inherit the sweet shop and could afford a house. I made an offer on the place when the secondary tumour in his spine was identified and contracts were exchanged when it reached his brain. Even then he held out longer than predicted - but moves always have little hitches and I wasn't ready to go then either.

Had it been Will taking in the washing when I looked round the house I would have knocked on the window and shouted YOO HOO! I would have blown my cover before I knew I even wanted cover. But as I had never met Iman I decided I didn't want to be introduced as her new neighbour; I wanted to be introduced as Will's oldest friend. In the rain on the way back to the estate agent's office I worried about Will's shirt because the lawn would be turning into mud.

Will came to Dad's funeral but Iman could not make it, which suited me. I had enough to think about. Come the afternoon, 3.15 pm, I couldn't think of any of it, though, so I thought of fuck-all. But sitting between the ancient Crabbe sisters I couldn't call it feeling fuck-all, so I told them I felt sombre. They sat there like OAP bouncers so fragile no one dare hit them, deflecting all the attention that came my way, telling relatives how sombre I felt and explaining Dad's last days to anyone who asked. When we left they each took hold of an arm, but I felt I was supporting them. After all, I have the sweet shop. The Crabbe sisters still have their jobs.

I didn't expect Will to be at the funeral, because I couldn't think who would have told him about it. But it was obvious as soon as he spoke to the Crabbe sisters (because no one usually says 'Hiya!' to women in their sixties) that he must still use Dad's shop. Will doesn't smoke, he is not mad about chocolate, but he does buy the Mail each day. So I thought he must drive over two miles each way to get his daily paper from Dad. And I wanted to thank him for it, but I didn't. All that occurred to me in the crematorium was how much Will looked like Captain Kirk.

Will was the right age for Captain Kirk, he had his authority. The main difference between Will and Captain Kirk is that Will is balding slightly. Except William Shatner is infamous for his Kirk wig, so maybe what I was really thinking was how much like William Shatner Will looked. But I couldn't say that, because I hadn't seen him for a long time and there were a lot of people around. Once I thought it I was amazed I had not seen it before. Will mistook my amazement for emotion and hugged me.

It wasn't a coincidence that I bought the house next to Will's, but it did look like one. Instead it went like this: Will sent me pictures at university of him and his wife outside their new house. I thought: Will has a nice wife and Will has a nice house. Then I noticed in the corner of the photo the FOR SALE board. I tried to use the same estate agents, because if they are good enough for Will they are good enough for me. Will has that atmosphere about him - he is one of those blokes who is always all right. He could always sort out who owed how much in restaurants no matter how pissed he was, how large the group or if someone had not had any of the wine, drank beer and was vegetarian but did eat two desserts - that was me. So I thought he was bound to have chosen a great estate agent. I rang them up, mentioned the house I'd seen and said I'd like one just like it. The funny thing was that the house next door to Will's was the one FOR SALE. I was lucky, contracts had nearly been exchanged but the chain broke down when one couple got divorced and another was made redundant: I felt so lucky. The level of detail also gave me confidence in Spike the estate agent.

So I rang Will, used the same solicitor and surveyor as him and got the same mortgage from the same place. Except he doesn't know all this, he thinks I was just showing polite interest. Apart from the funeral I had not seen Will for the longest time. He had never actually managed to visit me at university and after missing their wedding and sending a toaster as a present (albeit the nicest toaster they received) I had not dared visit them.