Will bites the tip of his thumb and assesses me. “It must have been tough. Sorry I didn’t help more. I thought about it. I mean, I could see you found it hard. But if I’m honest, I hated seeing Mum in that state. I just wanted to avoid her as much as I could.”

I shrug. “Dad probably wouldn’t have let you anyway. He thought it was my duty as the daughter to take care of Mum, and to take over running the household when needed.”

“Which was basically all the time.”

“Yeah. That’s how it felt.”

“What was she like? When you took in her meals and helped her to shower and dress, did she talk to you? Tell you what was wrong?”

“She was catatonic mostly,” I say, my voice flat. “Barely even registered my presence.”

“What about when she was up and about? Did she ever mention her ‘episodes’, as Dad called them?”

“Never. One day I’d be hanging out the washing, cooking a meal, vacuuming the house, doing my homework at midnight. The next, I’d get home from school and she’d be cleaning the oven and acting like everything was fine.”

“Do you think they ever loved each other?”

“Mum and Dad? No. Or if they did, it was before we came along.”

Will opens his door. “It’s not a nice thing to say on the day of our father’s funeral, but I wonder if she’ll be happier now he’s gone.”

“I wouldn’t count on it, Will,” I say, climbing out of the car.

We walk side by side to the church door and make our way into the dimly lit foyer. Our brother James stands rigidly in a suit at the entrance. He automatically holds out an order of service, then clocks who we are and his hand drops to his side.

“Hello,” he says, his voice deep and gruff.

His expression is just as Dad’s used to be. Serious, no-nonsense. No hint of emotion. He’s put on weight and has few more frown lines and a little less hair at the temple but is otherwise unchanged.

“James,” says Will, his voice tight. “Remember us?”

“Hello, William, Patricia.” His gaze barely lands on me before he looks away. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

I clear my throat, determined to speak. “I wasn’t sure either,” I say firmly.

Then I hold out my hand and wait for James to hand me the order of service. Without thanking him, I walk down the aisle and take a seat in the third row from the back. The church is half full at most, which surprises me. I thought there would be a mass of military types filling every corner.