The days that followed Mum’s death were a time of intense activity – but it was like jogging through treacle. The only other period in my life when I could remember feeling time so suspended, when I’d lived so intensely in the present, was after birthing my babies. Hours seemed to rush by and minutes dragged, with everything telescoped into the here and now.

Thanks to Brody’s intervention, the death certificate had been issued swiftly. It stated that Ruth had died of natural causes, exacerbated by her weakened condition from pancreatic cancer and a lifetime of heavy drinking. My sisters and I met with the priest, designed the order of service, and tried not to kill each other. The way we were going, it could be a four-for-one funeral.

We couldn’t even pick out clothes for our mother to wear for her cremation without falling out. Amber had selected the kind of age-appropriate frock that had been fashionable around the time of the Boer War.

‘Mum’d hate that to be the last thing she ever wore!’ Emerald snapped, tossing it back into the wardrobe. ‘We should bury her in her leopard-print tankini.’

‘What about pearls and a sequined sarong?’ I suggested, attempting to placate. ‘And what about underwear? Do we need to choose underpants? Surely we can’t let Mum go commando?’

‘I suppose you’ll be taking Emerald’s side in all matters from now on, won’t you, Ruby?’ Amber sulked. She flounced off to answer the doorbell, hips swishing, then reappeared in our mother’s bedroom carrying another huge bunch of flowers. ‘From Mum’s lawn bowls club. Aren’t they magnificent!’

‘Why do people send flowers? Who wants dying things at a time like this,’ Emerald griped. ‘There’s an organisation who build dunnies for villages in the developing world. If mourners want to make a gesture, they should just give money to this toilet twinning scheme. I’ve twinned with a latrine in’—she took out her phone to read the details—‘Htawadum, Kachin State, Myanmar.’

‘Well, that settles it. There’s no way I’m letting you handle Mum’s estate.’ Amber huffed. ‘If we let you do the finances our whole inheritance will be funnelled into flushing away poverty. Literally.’

‘And what’s wrong with that?’ Emerald flared. ‘Can’t you ever stop thinking of yourself for one nanosecond? You’re the one who’s been running around putting little stickers on the back of the paintings and furniture you want to keep, and drawing up a spreadsheet of the valued possessions you want first dibs on.’

‘Flowers and latrines are both fine,’ I mollified. Attempting to cut through my siblings’ mutual resentment was like trying to saw raggedly through a frozen loaf of bread with a butter knife. We were right back to where we’d been before the cruise.