They shaved off Kiama’s cane rows for the funeral. Yvonne’s not sure if it’s this that makes him look so different, so much older, or if it’s the shirt and smart trousers. They’re at Julie’s house; the one Yvonne came to with Emma for a barbecue when they first finished university. It’s eerie how little has changed. The same car sits on the drive and inside the hall is still lined with family photos, though there are more now, mostly of kids. Even the kitchen is the same, filled with trays of food and stacks of plastic cups and plates, ready for guests, as if it’s been stuck in time for nine years. But of course it’s not the same.

Yvonne manages to smile at Kiama as he comes into the kitchen, ‘You looked very grown-up today.’

He nods blankly and walks over to Julie by the fridge. She reaches out to adjust his collar. ‘Do you want to take this off now?’

‘I thought you said I had to look smart.’

‘Yes, for church. But we’re home now.’

Home? Yvonne hadn’t even thought about this place as Kiama’s home, but of course it is. Over the last few months Lewis had been pretty much living with her in Clapham, much to his family’s confusion. He said they all knew he was with someone but respected his privacy, unlike her own family. Lewis had promised to introduce her once she got back from Kenya. It seems like a plan from a different world now, another time completely.

Kiama’s legs look long and thin in the black trousers, could it be that he’s lost weight? Or is it that Yvonne’s not used to seeing him dressed like this? The pale blue shirt doesn’t quite fit and the collar especially is too big.

Earlier, she heard Julie explain to a friend that she bought everything large so he could keep it for when he starts school after the Easter holidays. The time period for his grieving already set in stone.

He continues to stand there by the fridge, unmoving as adults bustle around him. But he’s always been one of those children in the kitchen with the adults; big ears, Emma used to say. You wouldn’t even know he was there sometimes until he piped in with a comment or laugh as you gossiped about people.

‘Why don’t you go out in the garden with your cousins?’ Julie suggests.

After the church ceremony, the children had been bribed with colouring books and crisps and sent outside, an uncle directing them to the end of the garden where they sat within the tall grass around the greenhouse, trying their best to stay quiet and respectful.