‘Sam, let me finish,’ she said and sighed. ‘I don’t know what we’ll find in his sock drawers or under the mattresses, but whatever he’s left to me, I’ll get our solicitor in Edinburgh to transfer it to you.’

‘No Jane, don’t do this,’ Sam said, shaking his head, ‘he doesn’t owe me anything and I’ve got no expectation that I’m included. I’m here to support you. Isn’t that right, Ady?’

‘No…’ Adrian searched for words and waved his hands, ‘don’t bring me into it. This is one of those times I’m grateful that the law doesn’t recognise our marital bliss. This has got to be between the two of you.’

A silence fell heavily over them. Adrian tried to lift them out of it: ‘You’ve got to admit though Sam, the house would make a lovely gay B & B. I bet we’d make a bomb with all those butch mountaineers from the Gay Outdoor Club. We could do all the exterior paint-work pink and advertise in Gay Times.’

They all laughed and Sam drove on to the house.

Even before they’d emptied the car a neighbour turned up, a bottle of milk and a loaf of bread in her basket. Before they sat down to eat that evening four other callers had paid their respects and left them with an apple tart, a Victoria sponge, a dozen fresh eggs collected that day and a basket of winter vegetables. Adrian, who’d lived all his life in various Manchester suburbs, had never witnesses that kind of pulling-together in a community. Jane sat at the large oak table in the kitchen feeding Euan while Sam cooked. Their conversation had lapsed and Jane spoke sweet nothings to the baby at her breast.

‘What was that you said to Euan?’ Sam asked.

‘Oh… It’s just something Margaret says to him… I’m not even sure I pronounce it properly.’

‘Say it for me, Jane.’ It was almost a command.

She looked curiously at her brother and said:

‘It’s something like Mis ojos de terciopelo.’

‘What does it mean, Jane?’ Sam asked sharply.

‘I don’t know exactly; it’s something like ‘my velvet eyes’. It’s just one of those sweet things you say to babies… Or to your boy or girlfriend. What’s the matter, Sam? Tell me.’

‘When I sat with Prysor yesterday morning he was quite delirious and that was one of the things he kept saying.’

‘Oh, I see… Well, like I said, it’s one of Margaret’s sayings. Perhaps it’s something she used to say to him.’

‘Sure, that makes sense, I suppose,’ Sam said, turning back to the Aga which he still hadn’t quite got the hang of.

It was Sam, after they’d eaten, who finally suggested that they look for Prysor’s papers. Adrian volunteered to wash the dishes but Jane was anxious that they went through things together. They found his desk orderly and its contents mostly filed neatly away in clearly identified folders; buildings insurance, utilities, BT & gas shares, bank statements, credit card accounts, car… An old wallet contained a wad of £20 notes. Jane counted the money and handed it to Sam, who gave it back to her and said they’d better look for a copy of the will so that they’d have some idea what to do with it. Adrian found some old photographs, wrapped carefully in a paper bag and held together with an elastic band. Jane looked through them and recognised Margaret in her wedding gown; another was of the wedding party: