‘Calvin!’ I said. ‘Come in. Please.’

He shrugged, and followed me indoors. I led him into the kitchen and switched on the light. The glare made us shrink. I put on the kettle while Calvin stood at the window gazing into the blackness of the garden, or maybe his own reflection.

‘It was a good party, though, wasn’t it?’ I said brightly.

‘If you like that sort of thing.’

‘Nobody likes a funeral. I just thought they laid on a good show.’

‘What, old naked people making a fucking exhibition of themselves?’

I froze. ‘Listen, Calvin, from what I’ve heard you did a lot of that yourself.’

‘What?’

‘Getting drunk and jumping into your pool, or your hot tub or whatever. Having a high old time.’

He swung round. ‘Not since Angie died.’

‘Look, I’m sorry.’ I stepped over and laid my hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry.’

He stayed rigid. I turned away and dropped teabags into the mugs.

‘I know you loved her and funerals must be painful,’ I said, ‘but I just thought it would be nice for you to meet my friends. You needn’t have come if you’d known you were going to be upset.’

‘I’m not upset.’

‘Yes you are.’

He sighed. Finally he said: ‘It would’ve been nice if somebody had taken a blind bit of notice of me.’

‘Oh, Calvin.’ I patted a chair. ‘Come and sit down.’

He didn’t move. ‘And all that bollocks about sodding mackerel pâté, what the fuck was that all about?’

‘We were just reminiscing, you know? I’m sorry you felt left out but I hadn’t seen most of them for ages.’ I passed him his mug. ‘I can see you’re upset but what was it really about? Was it all that talk about Greg, was that it?’

He didn’t reply.

‘Look, I feel weird about Angie,’ I said. ‘We all have baggage.’

‘Angie wasn’t baggage!’ he snapped. ‘She was my life.’

I flinched. There was a silence. The cat padded over and rubbed her face against his leg.

He put down his mug. ‘Look, I can’t handle this. I’m off.’

He shook Flossie off his foot and left the room. For a moment I couldn’t move. Then I heard the front door slam. I jumped up and ran after him.

‘Calvin!’

I ran out, but he was already driving away. I watched his brake lights disappear down the street.

The next morning the doorbell rang. Pam stood there, holding a Tupperware box.

‘Comfort food,’ she said. ‘Coconut fingers with a chocolate base. It’s a new recipe I got off the internet.’

She edged past me and went into the kitchen. I followed her. She sat down at the table.

‘You poor love.’ She sighed. ‘Men, honestly.’

‘You saw him leave?’