Alan paused and made that breathy sound, the one he always made when he didn’t know what to say. ‘Dad’ll remember,’ he said eventually. ‘I was so shaken up I wouldn’t have known where I was.’

‘Weren’t you shooting roos?’ James asked.

‘Yeah, no... look it’s so bloody long ago, Jamie. I just couldn’t be sure,’ Alan said. ‘Sorry, mate. Listen, I’ve only got a short break, but give everyone up there our love. Poor old Tony. Dad’s pretty cut up about it all from what I can tell on the phone. I reckon we should bring the kids up at Christmas or something.’

‘I’m sure everyone would like that.’

‘Is Johnny still living in town?’ Alan said suddenly.

‘Yvonne said they’re still out on the Kippen Road, past the abattoir. He was a good mate of Tony’s, so he might even be here today.’

‘Listen, I don’t want to tell tales out of school, but I just reckon you should steer clear of him, Jamie,’ Alan said, and exhaled. ‘I dunno the full story, but there’s bad blood there; best leave it alone.’

‘Yeah?’ James said, just as a car passed on its way to parking in the shade near his. The pale face at the wheel was unmistakeable. Dad.

‘Yeah,’ his brother said. ‘So, anyway, I gotta go. Catch up with you soon, alright?’

It was the standard way the brothers wrapped things up.

‘Alright, looking forward to it,’ James said, and flipped his phone shut.

Doris was waiting as he turned around the corner of the church, sun belting onto her navy frock and hat, topped by a little veil. Uncle Bill was already in the shadows.

‘Aunty Doris...’ James said.

She broke away and went wide of his open arms.

‘Wait for your father,’ she whispered, moving inside, Bill in her wake.

Dad made a big show of smiling and reaching out one arm as he closed in, shaking first James’s hand and then that of the funeral director. Up close, James noticed the familiar roughness of his father’s features, but he’d filled out considerably in the years since they’d seen each other.

‘Doris said you came up the lane yesterday and had afternoon tea,’ Dad said quietly and without emotion, maintaining his wide grin.

‘Well, you-’

‘Save it, Jamie,’ his father said, cutting him off and broadening his smile. ‘Never try lying to a cop. Your father might be retired, but he’s still as sharp as ever,’ he added as he pulled the front of his son’s jacket down and dusted imaginary dandruff off each shoulder before James could move away.

‘Did you get my message last night?’

‘I did,’ his father said. ‘And I got one from the boys at the station just before I left to collect your aunt and uncle, which is why I’m late.’

‘Didn’t think of calling me back?’