The ‘ifs’ and the ‘maybes’ had kept Tom awake for the first few days after everything came to light.

But having spoken to Linda at length about it, the inspector had agreed with her assessment that most difficult cases were usually solved by just such a series of strange coincidences coming to light. That, and diligent, painstaking police work.

Tom sighed and Louise gave him a sympathetic glance. Today was the traumatic footnote to a very long few weeks.

He looked across to Sean, flanked on either side by his children. One of his many grandsons stood in front of him. Tom recognised him as the little football star, the one whose Sunday matches Sean had never missed, until he was too busy caring for June and couldn’t attend any more.

Sean had his hands on the young lad’s shoulders, his face resolute and controlled. He’d held it together for the whole service, even delivering the most beautiful oratory, filled with funny anecdotes from the couple’s shared life.

He’d only spoken of her illness at the very end and even then just to say how well she’d handled it.

The priest finished speaking and indicated to the family that they should approach the grave.

Sean held a single yellow rose, June’s favourite flower because it symbolised friendship. As he dropped it into the grave the big man crumpled, convulsed by great heaving sobs as his sons and daughters watched on in panic. They’d never seen their father be anything but strong – his abrupt, acerbic personality was the stuff of legend, even within their family.

Tom moved around the grave and took Sean’s arm, turning his friend towards him and gripping him in a tight hug. He had to make true on his promise to June, the last thing she’d asked him to do. He had to take care of her husband.

‘She’s gone,’ Sean choked. ‘My darling is gone.’ The raw vulnerability of his grief was the most devastating sound Tom had ever heard.

‘I know,’ he said, a lump in his throat. ‘I know. Listen to me. She’s looking down at you now and she’s thinking, “That’s right, you old codger. I knew you worshipped the ground I walked on.” And she did, Sean. She knew. Even at the end.’

‘Even at the end,’ Sean repeated. ‘Tom.’ He leaned into the other man’s ear and whispered urgently. ‘She did it on purpose. There was no aneurism. She drove the car into the tree. She didn’t want to lose herself. She didn’t want to forget us and she didn’t want us to see her dying inside.’

Tom pulled back in shock.

And in that moment he knew Sean was right.

Maybe it’s better this way. That’s what June had said. The other way would have been so drawn out.