If his mother had come to get him sooner, before the summer holidays, William would have gone. But after the gazumping, the new house wouldn’t be ready until the end of October, and the unexpected promotion she got when her boss had a heart attack meant she was incredibly busy, so it was agreed he’d see the half-term out in Sutton. Before Ash Wednesday, the thought of moving to Wales had some appeal, but after he’d gone cold turkey on choral music and promised himself never to sing in public again, the last thing he wanted was Evelyn pushing him to join a male voice choir. And anyway, by then, William was certain about his future. He kept telling Uncle Robert and Howard he wanted to stay with them, but neither seemed to hear him.

And then, half-term arrived and one day there she was, all perky and bright getting out of her new Ford Anglia, which, William noticed with irritation from his window, matched her burgundy lipstick and shoes.

Robert, Howard and Evelyn were standing in the hall, the first time they had been together since the dreadful evening of the ‘Miserere’. Still in his room, he put the suitcase that Robert thought had been packed for two days back on top of his wardrobe, breathed in deeply and walked downstairs.

‘Here you are!’ Evelyn watched him descend, beaming. She registered his empty hands and her smile hardened. ‘Everything’s ready for our big adventure.’ She tried to take his hand but he pulled it out of her reach.

‘I don’t want an adventure.’

Evelyn didn’t miss a beat. ‘You’ll meet people your own age. All the young men down there sing in choirs.’

‘I don’t want to sing. I want to be an embalmer. Here.’

‘How can you possibly know that?’ Her smile was getting weaker, her tone sharper.

‘Because I’ve been doing it. Every day.’ From the corner of his eye, he saw Robert and Howard look at each other.

‘For goodness’ sake, Robert.’ Her head swung to him. ‘A fourteen-year-old boy spending his time in a funeral home? What were you thinking?’

‘It was my idea,’ William interjected. ‘I’m good at it, aren’t I, Uncle Robert?’

Robert looked, helpless, from William to Evelyn.

Frustration swept afresh across her face as she turned on the two men. ‘Will you ever accept that William is my son, not yours!’ Robert and Howard met her furious gaze with their own, but said nothing. ‘It’s such a waste!’ She turned back to William, thumping the side of her thighs, making her bag slide down her arm. ‘You’ve got a gift. I won’t let you throw it away.’

‘If anyone threw it away, it was you.’