‘Did you say the other night?’ Her tone has changed, softened a bit. ‘Your friend died recently?’

‘Last Thursday.’

‘Ah, I think I know what’s happened. And my condolences.’ She dips her head and slides another sheet of paper across the desk towards her. ‘Yes, Jon Smith is scheduled for an inquest opening later this morning. His full inquest won’t be for a few months yet, I’m afraid. The police should have explained that.’

‘So can I go in?’ Mark doesn’t care what type of inquest it is; he just wants to do right by Jon. And enjoy the central heating that he hopes is being pumped around the room.

‘It’s not usual for witnesses to attend, it’s all over in five minutes.’ The woman frowns for a moment, but then shrugs her shoulders and smiles a fraction. ‘But seeing as you’re here, you may as well stay. All inquest openings are taking place in Court 4 this morning, up one set of stairs and on your right.’ She points at the set of polished wooden stairs just beyond her desk. ‘The officer outside the court will let you in.’

‘Thanks,’ Mark mumbles, then grabs hold of the banister and hoists himself up one stair at a time.

By the time Jon’s name is read out, Mark’s bum is so numb that he’s been contemplating leaving the courtroom for the last half an hour. He’s already sat through six inquest openings – four blokes, a woman and a baby – and could do without another sad story. But this is what he came for, so he sits up straighter and looks at the coroner. Except she’s not interested in him. She’s flanked on both sides by two suits, one male and one female, and they’re all shuffling paper between each other.

‘I have his full name as Jonathan Augustine Smith,’ the coroner says. Mark smirks at Jon’s flamboyant middle name, but then, to his horror, feels a lump form in his throat. He’ll never be able to take the piss out of the old guy for it, he realises, and the sense of loss feels brutal. ‘And next of kin as Jane Eliana Williams née Smith; his sister. I assume we’ll be releasing the body to her?’

‘That’s correct,’ the man in the grey suit and greyer tie says, his bald patch bobbing up and down like a skinned tomato on the boil.