‘But what if …’ I clear my throat to stop my voice trembling. ‘What if the stress of the fight – the stuff I said – what if it caused what happened? She might still be here if I hadn’t said those things to her.’

Daphne looks at me with her mouth set firmly and her brown eyes blazing. ‘Ben. Listen to me. The doctor told us this was completely random. This wasn’t about stress or unhappiness or her worrying about some stupid fight you had. It was about a weak blood vessel in her brain. That’s all.’ She shakes her head again and squeezes my hand. ‘It’s a terrible, terrible thing, but it wasn’t your fault. You mustn’t think that.’

I lean forward and touch my forehead to hers. ‘I don’t think you’ll ever understand what it means to hear you say that.’

We stay like that for a while, forehead to forehead, as the afternoon wind whips around us. It’s so strange to feel good – happy, even – on today of all days. I just wish so badly that I’d had this conversation with Daphne the first time around.

I wrap an arm around her and she nestles into my jacket. ‘I’m glad I told you that,’ I say.

‘Of course. You can tell me anything. We’re a team, remember.’

From the clock tower above us, a bell rings. Daff pulls out her phone and sighs when she sees the time.

‘Come on, we’d better get over to your uncle’s. They’ll all be wondering where we are.’

‘Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go.’ I stand up and give my eyes a final wipe, feeling just about ready to go through the wake all over again.

We walk out of the churchyard hand in hand, and I take a last glance back at Mum’s gravestone on the way. It feels like we said goodbye properly this time.

We step through the iron gates to find that the street outside – which was previously chock-a-block with friends’ and relatives’ cars – is now pretty much deserted. There’s only one car left in sight: down the far end of the street, a dark red estate, half hidden beneath a huge overhanging beech tree. Behind the windscreen, I can make out a figure in the driver’s seat – a man, I think, his head bowed so that his face is hidden.

I feel something spasm inside me. Panic? Maybe even excitement? Because I’m pretty sure I recognise him, despite the fact that I haven’t seen him in years.

I step off the pavement, into the road, to squint harder at the red car. To make sure.

‘Who is that?’ Daphne asks.

‘I think …’ I say, feeling my heart begin to hammer, ‘I think it’s my dad.’

Chapter Thirty-Four

‘Your … Shit, Ben, are you sure?’ Daff is staring at me, wide-eyed.