“And that was…that was a lesson he always tried to pass on to both of his sons. And that’s”—a pause, and I couldn’t quite tell whether he was really choking up or doing a very good job of faking—“that’s how I’ll always remember him. How I think he’d always want to be remembered. As a force of nature. A man who fought for what he believed in, who demanded respect and always received it. Even if it sometimes came at the expense of an otherwise blameless flatfish.” And here there was another of those appropriate laughter pauses. “He was a provider, a caregiver, and a role model, and I can truly say that neither I nor Christopher would be the men we are today without his guidance. And on the subject of Christopher, I shall now surrender the lectern to my brother, who will read David’s favourite poem, ‘If.’”

There was a pause. “Well?” Oliver stared at me. “What do you think?”

“Fine?” I wasn’t sure what else to say.

Oliver frowned. Then started pacing around my flat. He’d done quite a lot of pacing over the past week. “Fine? It’s my father’s eulogy. It can’t just be fine.”

“I mean,” I tried, “maybe you could tell a different story? That one makes your dad sound like a bit of a cock.”

“Not to the people who’ll be at the funeral.” Oliver slumped in a way that was almost a sigh. “He used to tell it himself all the time. And if I left it out, Uncle Jim would be bound to come up to me afterwards and demand to know why I didn’t tell the halibut story.”

I tucked my feet under me on the sofa. “Oliver, you don’t have to do this.”

“I absolutely do. A funeral isn’t like a wedding. You can’t just say, Sorry, got cold feet, enjoy the party.”

“The eulogy, Oliver. There’s no reason you have to speak. There’s the vicar, there’s Uncle Jim, there’s Christopher. You dad isn’t going away unmemoralised.”

“And you don’t think”—Oliver was frowning into the middle distance—“if the vicar, Christopher, and Uncle Jim all say something and I pointedly don’t that won’t seem deeply personal?”

“People will just assume you’re too upset.” I tried to catch his eye. “If anything, it’ll read as a loving tribute.”

“My mother would never forgive me, even if she believed me. And Christopher would never believe me, even if he forgave me.”