I did briefly consider a kind of mock-funeral, knocking up a cardboard coffin or whatever, but in the end it got way too complicated – I couldn’t figure out how to replicate the burial or cremation and I didn’t even know which of those Kevin would have preferred – so I ditched that plan. Decided to stick with something simpler. The actual funeral might already have happened for all we knew, and even if it hadn’t, I didn’t think any of us were likely to get invitations, so I spent the rest of the day making arrangements for what I had told Marcus would be a memorial.

First off, I told everyone, including the Informals, what I was planning and did my best to persuade them that they ought to be there.

‘He was one of us,’ I said. ‘It’ll be good for everyone to . . . let their feelings out, to express themselves a bit.’ And, ‘It’ll be fun.’

Some were predictably keener than others, but by mid-morning I was pretty sure a fair few would rock up when it came to it. It was something to do, after all, something different. A welcome change of routine.

L-Plate helped me out a bit – Donna couldn’t take time off from her packed walking schedule and Ilias said he had a chess match – but putting it all together still took most of the day. Once I’d blagged a suitable space, there was a ton of stuff to move and set up. We had to get the chairs arranged in rows and we needed to get everything looking nice. I wanted pictures, if we could get them, and some suitable decorations, and I wanted music.

I wanted it to be proper.

It would probably end up detracting a little from the dignity of the proceedings, I was well aware of that, but I decided to do it while afternoon meds were wearing off as opposed to when the evening ones were kicking in. It would make things a bit more interesting, I thought, and, with luck, more useful. So at six o’clock I was ready and waiting and, half an hour later, I watched – trying my best not to look too excited – as they trooped into the occupational therapy room in dribs and drabs.

All the sectionees, which was perfect.

A few of the Informals, which couldn’t hurt.

Most of the nurses.

I guided people to their seats and did my best to calm them down where it was necessary. The music was helping, I think. I’d connected my phone up to a portable speaker Lucy had lent me. I’d wanted something to suit the occasion, maybe a bit of classical, but I don’t have a lot to choose from, so in the end I’d settled for Michael Bublé. You can’t go far wrong with a bit of Bublé and I have to admit it seemed to be doing the trick.