‘It’s a blessing, don’t you think, after all she’d been through?’ She looked down at the baby. ‘Barney was yelling his little lungs off in there, but now he’s stopped. Typical, isn’t it?’

‘I’m sure they wouldn’t have minded,’ I said. ‘Weddings, funerals, there’s always a baby crying, isn’t there?’ I thought: like there’s always one bluebottle buzzing around a room. Never more than one. Why is that?

The woman shrugged. ‘Maybe they know more than we do. That’s why they’re sobbing their little hearts out.’ She hoisted the infant over her shoulder like a sack of vegetables. ‘I’m going back in. Want to come?’

I shook my head. ‘I think I’ll go home.’

‘You’re not coming to the cricket club?’

‘I don’t think I should.’

‘Don’t be daft. We’re giving Vronny one hell of a send-off. There’s a hog roast, and Trev’s booked a rumba band. They’ve come all the way from Huddersfield.’

She walked off. Over her shoulder the baby’s face bobbed up and down. It gazed into my soul, as babies so unnervingly do. Then they were gone, the path littered with yesterday’s damp confetti.

Emboldened by this, I drove to the cricket club. I’d liked that young woman. She’d accepted my presence without question. Better than that, she’d issued me a personal invitation. I almost felt like a bona fide guest. And I was suddenly ravenously hungry.

Vronny was being buried, so the family hadn’t yet arrived. The clubhouse, however, was already filling up with guests. On the lawn outside, a tattooed youth was turning a carcass on a spit. Indoors, glass cases lined the walls, displaying cricket bats and trophies. As so often with funerals, the atmosphere was surprisingly cheerful. More so than weddings; I’d noticed this in the past. No doubt we were all relieved to still be alive.

There was a raised stage at the end of the room; members of the rumba band, wearing matching waistcoats, were fiddling with an amplifier. I eased myself through the crowd, searching for something to eat. Tea was laid out on a table, but the men were already hitting the bar.

Nobody noticed me or questioned my presence. I munched a cucumber sandwich and drank a glass of juice. See? I hadn’t lost my nerve. In fact I felt quite relaxed. I liked the look of these people. They were determined to have a good time and soon they’d be too pissed to notice if I slipped up. Besides, I’d cobbled together a back story. I gathered that Vronny had been a dinner lady, so I could simply say I’d taught at the same school, hardly a lie at all, considering my years of teaching.

So far, however, nobody had spoken to me. I inspected a plaque on the wall. In gold lettering it listed the various captains of the team. The window was open and I could smell roasting flesh.

Somebody tapped my shoulder.

‘You’ve got a nerve, turning up here.’

I swung round. A reddened face loomed close.