Bert is delighted to see me. His one-sided smile creeps across his pale face as he holds the door open for me to come inside.

‘Has everybody gone?’ I say, looking around the empty room that was filled with mourners a few hours earlier.

‘They have.’

‘Well, that wasn’t too bad.’

‘They had to go. I told them to get out.’

‘And who cleaned up?’ I say, noting the tidiness of the place.

‘I don’t know, I waited upstairs ’til they were gone.’

I laugh, then Bert laughs. He gets some leftover food from the fridge and places it on the table. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since Jeff’s egg wraps this morning.

‘This is delicious,’ I say, spooning meat pie into my mouth.

‘It is, isn’t it? I think Agnes made it, the witch.’

He laughs again. I keep eating. At the back of my mind I feel the tension swelling up, waiting to burst. Should I tell Bert what’s going on? I better not. He cuts a slice of apple pie for me, hands me the plate, suggesting I put some cream on it. Everything takes longer now, slower steps, slower hand movements, slower smiles.

When we’ve both had our fill from the witches’ cauldron, I help Bert put the stuff away and tell him I have to go. I’m feeling a bit stronger now, ready to take on the journey without crashing into someone on the way. Bert asks me when I’ll be back and I tell him as soon as I’m able.

‘It won’t be Saturday, though. I have to go to a baby shower.’

‘A baby shower?’

‘Joanna’s baby shower.’

‘Oh, right. Hang on a minute.’

Bert walks into a little side room off the kitchen, more like a closet than a room. He reaches up to a shelf that hangs over a work bench and takes down a gift bag. I think Bert has got me gift, but it’s not for me.

‘For Danny,’ he says. ‘For the baby.’

Grief must be having a strange effect on Bert. Never before has he expressed any kindness towards Danny. In fact, for as long as I can remember both men have harbored an indiscreet dislike for each other, Danny taking every opportunity to give out about Bert and Bert throwing his eyes up to heaven whenever I mention my brother. So this is quite a turn up for the books.

I take the gift and thank him. Tell him how grateful Danny and Joanna are going to be.

Walking to the car I look over at Dad’s house. There’s no sign of life, just the shadowed loneliness of a broken house, a broken home. Dad must be in the pub with his mates.