Amy’s sons and husband sat next to her, like black crows, hanging on every word the vicar spoke and guarding her from prying eyes. Their dark hair was slicked back, covering the white collars of their shirts and blending with the blackness of their suits, making the pew look like one of death and grieving. Seated on his own on the other side of the chapel was a lone figure, quite the opposite of those in the adjacent pew. There sat a man with blond hair, his black suit showing it off as if a halo shone around his head, as he listened intently to the vicar reading the life story of Bill Brown.

‘Let us rise to sing psalm number twenty-three, “The Lord is my shepherd”,’ the vicar called out and the congregation all stood.

‘I told you – he’s your lad alright. Just look at him,’ whispered Archie to Danny. ‘He’s not one of them, anyway.’ He nodded in the direction of the pew containing Amy and the rest of her family.

‘Quiet, Father, folk will hear you.’ Danny looked ahead of him and sang. He looked at the lad who was singing all alone. His father was right: there was no doubting the fact that he was a cuckoo in the nest and that he had come home, whether Danny himself liked it or not. It was obvious to one and all who his father was.

‘You are home soon, did you not go to the funeral tea?’ Harriet stood back and looked at both of her men as they came back into the kitchen.

‘No, we didn’t even go to the graveside. My father was struggling with walking and it looked like rain, so we just did the service.’ Danny threw his trilby on the table and pulled the black tie from around his neck, placing it on the back of the kitchen chair. ‘Come here, you bundle of rubbish.’ He reached down for baby Georgina and held her on his knee, as Harriet placed the kettle on the hob.

‘We didn’t want to impose on the family. And besides, I don’t ken the lad that Bill’s daughter married, but he looks a moody bugger. Plus she’s changed out of all recognition, and she didn’t bother looking to the side we were on. So we didn’t stop.’ Archie pulled up the other chair next to his son and smiled at his youngest grandchild as she played with the teaspoons on the table.

‘Oh, so there was no gossip or anything? That’s not like you two.’ Harriet poured out two cups of tea and took Georgina onto her lap, to hold her tightly next to her.