I sit down at the computer, and I tap in ‘Sven Gzhel’ and ‘Bryan Lomonosov’ into the search engine. I expect to be directed to crime story sites where the gruesome deaths of individuals with these names are reported. Instead, I find listings for two types of Russian porcelain. ‘Sven’ and ‘Bryan’ are crossed out in the search list. It is just Gzhel and Lomonosov that have created the responses. Both have been around for some centuries, but neither mentions fine-bone china.

I find my phone and run through the contacts, looking for Mrs J’s number. I call it, and she answers with a calm, slightly amused tone. It’s as if she thinks anyone who would bother to call her must be an idiot.

‘I have a weird question for you.’

‘Of course you do. You’re a weird boy.’

‘Can you make fine-bone china using human bones?’

She doesn’t need time to think of her answer. ‘Yes. I don’t know what the quality would be like. Should be okay. Adding bone creates a kind of translucence. There are people who will do it for you.’

‘You can pay to have your loved one made into crockery?’

‘Yes, you can. Either mixed with the clay to make the object, or incorporated into the glaze.’

‘Wow.’

‘Yes, wow. Of course, if the potter isn’t a very skilled artisan, you’re going to run into big problems.’

‘Problems?’

‘Well, they’re likely to be fragile, brittle, easily broken, and of course really, really ugly.’

‘Okay. Thanks. Have you heard of Gzhel or Lomonosov porcelain?’

‘Russian. Not to my taste, but not bad quality.’

‘Could someone make something in a Gzhel or Lomonosov style?’

‘With human remains?’ Mum used to say Mrs J was always the smartest human in the room.

‘Yes.’

‘I suppose so. Both of them have a distinctive style. Gzhel is traditionally white with blue decorations. Lomonosov is known for a thing called “cobalt net”. In crudest terms, which might suit you, it is a kind of bluish fishing-net design on a white background.’

‘You do know what you’re talking about.’

‘I do.’

I put the phone and my beer down, rolling the names Cakestand, Gzhel, and Lomonosov over in my mouth. My thinking isn’t as clear as it would have been before I started the beers, but it’s clear enough.