‘I can see your reasoning.’ He turned again for the front door, and with one hand on the handle, he continued. ‘But allow me to think about it, please. You do have some rather unusual ideas sometimes.’

*

Rugby had given way to cricket at school and on Saturday morning Finlay had left early to prepare for a match, taking his breakfast with him.

John cleared his throat. ‘Ann, I was wondering,’ he said and then corrected himself, ‘we were wondering if you would like to see the funeral procession for The Great Lafayette tomorrow. I understand that it will be very well attended.’

Ursula looked up from her bowl of Dr Allinson’s Power cereal. She was unsure whether or not it was to her taste, but it was recommended, so she was doing her best with it.

John reached across the table and took Ursula’s hand and squeezed it. ‘It was a good suggestion, and now that I’ve had time to consider it, there seems to be no reason not to attend.’

Ann raised her head from counting the embroidered flower petals on the tablecloth. ‘I think,’ she said carefully, ‘I would like that very much.’

‘I expect your brother will accompany you.’ He looked at Ursula and saw the tiny barely-there shake of the head. ‘Or perhaps we could all go, if it’s important to you.’

‘Yes please.’

‘Very well. I’ve finished reading the newspaper for now so I want you to look at it and find out the route of the procession and the time.’ And with that he pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘I will be in the drawing room if anyone needs me.’

*

They arrived at the roadside early. Ann let go of Ursula’s hand and pushed her way to the front. The procession was slow. A single black horse pulled a large floral display mounted on the back of a carriage. ‘THE LAST ACT’ was picked out in flowers on the front of it. A brass band followed the carriage, and trumpets, trombones, clarinets and other instruments were played all along the route. Two more black horses, with plumes of black feathers sprouting from their harnesses, pulled a second carriage, upon which lay a coffin. This was followed by a car. A Mercedes, Finlay noted.

But it was Ann who noticed that instead of the Mercedes symbol on the car radiator, there was a polished metal model of Beauty, The Great Lafayette’s dog, who had died just a few days before the fire. Inside the car, she had read in the newspaper, was Mabel, his Dalmatian. No people were in the car, just Mabel. Ann didn’t know whether to cheer or to be quiet.