I doubt my father cares if Bert rests in peace; he didn’t care if he lived in peace. His dislike for Bert was there for as long as I can remember. But he never stopped me going over to visit him. He tried at first, but Mom said it was okay. Even though she didn’t talk to him either. Maybe she liked Edith.

I’m not going to bring up the subject of Dad coming to Bert’s funeral with me because I know the answer. He won’t go, no one will go; in fact, I may be the only one there. Hopefully some of Edith’s family will show up. I doubt Bert cares, though. He didn’t care when he was alive so he is not going to care now that he is dead. God, I can’t believe he’s gone. Everything I care about is slipping out of my world one thing at a time. My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts. It’s Jeff.

‘Hi Becca, just calling to see how you are? How did you get on with Bert?’

I can’t answer him.

‘What’s wrong, Becca?’

‘He’s dead, Jeff,’ I say, my voice cracking.

‘What?’ Jeff can’t believe it, struggling to digest that we were outside Bert’s house when he might have been taking his last breath. He tells me to come straight back and not to bother visiting Mom today, but I tell him that I’m okay, I need to see her and I’ll be back later.

Chapter Forty-Three

Now I’ll never find out about the pink coat. Bert was my only hope and now he’s dead, gone to Edith. But it has to mean something; someone must know why that coat started off in a trailer park in Maine and ended up in Danny’s kitchen.

Having spent the rest of the day in Dad’s house trying to contact Danny. I finally get through to him on the phone.

‘Danny, why were you at Bert’s house last night?’ There’s silence for a moment.

‘I wanted to ask him about the coat.’

‘But why would you want to hassle an old man, Danny? Could you not leave it?’

Danny is clearly as interested in the coat as I am. He doesn’t believe the heirloom story. I knew his reaction when he saw it in the kitchen was out of proportion.

‘Well I didn’t get an answer, Becca, so don’t worry about it… how did you know I called at Bert’s house anyway?’

‘I saw you leave… I… I was leaving Dad’s and I saw you…’

Quick, change the subject. Don’t mention New Orleans, Becca, or he’ll think you’ve gone mad.

‘Bert is dead.’

‘What?’

‘Yes, he had a heart attack.’

‘Holy fuck.’