She would tell everyone here, this congregation who don’t know her, how she loved him, more than anybody else. How she eventually told him she loved him too, that night, and how she bunked off work the next day and they spent a blissful twenty-four hours doing nothing more than enjoy each other’s company. Because that was the pleasure of being with him: she felt no pressure to put on airs, to try and be interesting or fun, or some other version of herself that she’d been with other men. He liked nothing more than to sit, her legs rested on his on the sofa, and read a book, him absent-mindedly wrapping her hair round his fingers.

She smiled more with him, laughed more. She loved the creases round his eyes, the curls in his hair when it dried after a shower. Even the way he bit his nails when he was thinking.

But she can’t say any of that, because she doesn’t exist.

To take her mind off Jonathan, she starts looking around the church at the other mourners. Most of them are Jonathan’s age, she assumes from school, or university or his job. Some are older, maybe relatives. She knows he was an only child, but maybe some are cousins. It’s a good turnout, and she’s pleased. Jon was loved, and not only by her.

A different air falls across the church. Everyone is silent; nobody moves as Amy gets up and stands at the front. She doesn’t have anything in her hands, unlike the other speakers. No crumpled piece of paper, no soggy tissue. She stands straight and tall.

‘She’s so strong,’ Freya hears the woman in front whisper to her friend.

The friend nods. ‘So beautiful.’

Freya looks forward at Amy Miller. And she is. Beautiful. Even she has to admit it. She has a fragile, china doll quality – slender arms, slim waist, high cheekbones.

She takes a deep breath in, then starts to talk.

‘I met Jonathan at a nightclub. I didn’t like him at first.’ She looks out to the church, and smiles. People laugh. ‘He knocked into me, spilling my drink. He apologised, offered to buy me another. I was about to say no, but then his friend came over, and I fancied his friend.’

Heads turn, looking at Kal. Kal smiles, shrugging.

‘But Jonathan soon won me over. He wasn’t like the other guys – he did what he said he was going to do. He was solid, reliable. He was my rock.’

She looks downward, suppressing a tear, then takes a shuddering breath and continues.