After the crematorium, the neighbours and pub friends and Ted’s small family reassembled at this lumberhouse of inanimate memory triggers. Everyone came back, except the mysterious Audrey. Mrs Andrews had been in to air the rooms and do some dusting, and as a result the place looked tidier and emptier than it had done when Ted was alive. Caz and I had made an early-morning lightning swoop on Marks & Spencer’s and bought in enough finger-food to fill several trays. She worked her way round the guests with these while Graham and I followed with gin, Scotch or wine. We made it our job to fill and refill glasses as soon as they were half empty. The atmosphere lightened as people ate and drank, and then grew positively jolly. Jean Andrews’s cheeks turned pink and she told the Manchester cousins stories about growing up in Oldham. They tried to find acquaintances in common, without much success from what I could overhear as I passed by with my bottles.

The noise level rose. The pub landlord told a couple of jokes, on the grounds that they had been favourites of Ted’s, and everyone laughed.

Jack sat on the stairs and read a book while people trod past him on the way to the bathroom. He glowered when anyone tried to speak to him or congratulate him on his impromptu speech, particularly me. Lola’s tears had dried up. She moved between the groups, with the attention of one or two of the younger pub men fixed on her. She caught my eye once and winked. Caz and Graham still circulated with drink and food, and Mel just circulated. In the narrow room with Ted’s shiny brown furniture and faded curtains she seemed bigger than the rest of us, and Technicolored alongside our dark clothes and muted pastel faces.

After a while I glanced at my watch. It was well past the lunch hour and I wanted to look in at work before the end of the day because there was some urgent finishing to do. I raised my eyebrows at Graham, who is used to standing in for a husband at times like this.

When I called Tony to tell him that Ted was gone, he had said how sorry he was, then asked immediately when the funeral was to be.

‘Sadie, that’s the one day I can’t come. I’ve got to go to Germany for a big client meeting.’

I knew he would have come, if he possibly could. Tony is like that. He does the right thing. ‘Don’t worry. Graham and Caz will be there. We’ll organise it together.’

‘I know they’ll support you. But I’m truly sorry I can’t be there as well. Ted was my father-in-law for fifteen years.’