Bone-tired and hungry, he knows it was the raw displays of parental love in the mortuary that have bought him to her house. The dogged blame and judgement that have sustained him for so long started to lose their grip in Aberfan. With the engine off, and the car growing rapidly colder, force of habit takes over. She left him, after all, to come here. None of this was his doing. He taps his head on the steering wheel, the cold creeping into his muscles. He lets the familiar reel play again; her driving away, waving but not looking back at him, the impact just above his sternum, the desolation of watching her leave.

Robert had suggested he invite her to his graduation, telling William that he and Evelyn had exchanged letters over the past few months; friendly, open. ‘Maybe we can put all this behind us,’ he’d said. William flinches at the memory of the recent – the only – argument he’s ever had with Uncle Robert.

‘She didn’t even want me to be an embalmer! Are you kidding me?’

Howard appeared at the lounge door. ‘How are we doing in here?’

‘This little prince here doesn’t like the fact that his mother and I are in touch at long last.’

Little prince! That stung. William’s whole life, Robert has only ever said kind things to him.

‘Maybe he needs time to adjust to the idea, Robert.’

‘She was hateful to you.’ William ignored Howard alto gether. ‘She humiliated us.’ The momentum of his anger was stronger than his self-control; his face pulled into tears. ‘She left me!’

Twice he removes the key from the ignition, twice he puts it back. Eventually, he punches the dashboard and starts the engine.

‘No, Mum.’

▪ ▪ ▪

Stopping at the first phone box he sees, he scrabbles for change in the glove compartment, gets out. With the coins in a tidy pile on top of the telephone, he rests his forehead on the red ridge of a window pane for a moment before dialling.

‘Mr Finch?’

‘William!’

‘I’m calling from a phone box. Is Gloria there, please?’

‘She is! Hang on!’ Car headlights fleetingly bleach his legs.

‘Hello, you!’ Gloria’s voice is loud and relieved. ‘Robert called, he’s beside himself.’

‘Don’t worry,’ he says softly, ‘I’ve spoken to him.’

‘Where are you?’

‘Wales.’

‘Oh God, the funerals.’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you OK?’

‘Yes. No. Kind of. I need to say something, Gloria.’

‘All right.’

‘Promise not to speak till I’m done.’

‘OK …’ She sounds wary.