The church was busier than I expected. ‘Who are all of these people?’ I whispered to Mum as we took our reserved pew at the front.

‘Work colleagues and golf club members,’ she whispered back. ‘Either that or they’re random strangers who are here for the free vol-au-vents and Pringles.’

Several of them stood up and gave emotional eulogies. Each one enveloped me with guilt as I realised that I hadn’t known my dad at all. It seemed that many of the traits I disliked in him were admired among others. His desire for control had turned the golf club’s finances from dire into healthy. His fondness for structure and processes made him a role model at work and meant his branch consistently topped league tables. His calm and quiet demeanour meant he was the person they all confided in during troubled times. Who knew? Certainly not me!

And I did cry. I tried to be strong for Logan, but something snapped inside me as I watched the coffin disappear behind the red velvet curtains before being lowered into the crematorium below. My dad was gone. We may not have been close, unlike Mum and I, but I still cared about him. In a funny way, I’d actually miss our awkward, stilted conversations. Over the past few years, he’d finally seemed to accept that he couldn’t control my career and, instead, feigned interest in my job as curator for the children’s section of the Past Lives Museum in London. In return, I feigned interest in the bank or golf, trying to stop my eyes from glazing over as he talked about ISAs, pensions, irons and handicaps. We always avoided talking about Bear With Me. And Mum. And Logan. It’s amazing how many conversations a person can have about the weather.

Logan fell asleep in the car on the way home from the wake. He was completely out of it so Mum carried him into Bear’s Pad.

‘Baileys?’ I whispered, removing Logan’s shoes as Mum kicked off her heels.

‘Gosh, yes! A huge one with lots of ice.’

She carried Logan upstairs while I poured two generous measures of Baileys then opened the freezer. As I pulled open the drawer that usually contained the ice cube trays, I frowned. What the hell was that? I lifted the packet out of the drawer, brushed a few flakes of ice off it, and stared at the item in my hand: a three-pack of M&S black knickers.

2

Sam

Three years ago – 21st May

I sat in my car on Sea View Drive, staring out the windscreen at the waves rolling onto North Bay at the bottom of the cliff. Surfers bobbed on the swell, occasionally catching a wave then wiping out – some in spectacular style – before they hit the beach. Dogs scampered across the sand chasing balls, tugging at pieces of seaweed or leaping into rock pools.