He began to walk towards the office block behind the chapel. But he was barely halfway there when the music started, and his pace slowed instinctively until he had to stop. Cooper could never hear the first hymn of a funeral service without being pierced by that sudden sense of loss. It seemed to come from nowhere, entirely unexpected, and unrelated to any thoughts that had been in his head. The feeling was somehow bound up in the music, buried deep in the raw sound of untrained voices faltering into the opening verse of ‘Abide With Me’.

But it was ridiculous to be standing alone outside a crematorium chapel feeling like this. He tried to recall whose loss was being mourned. Was it Shirley Bramwell or Billy Booker? Their names had stayed in his mind, but the order of their disposal was already a blur.

In the office, he announced himself to a secretary, who told him that Mr Lloyd was engaged in a meeting, but would be with him shortly if he cared to wait. Cooper looked at his watch. It was his own fault – he was a bit early. He’d been too eager to get out of the office, even if the alternative was the crematorium.

‘I’ll take a walk round and come back in a few minutes,’ he said. And the woman looked relieved to have him out of the building.

At least the rain was easing off a bit. The cool air felt quite refreshing as Cooper walked up the roadway to the other end of the chapel. Mourners from the previous service were still milling around in the exit, and a few of them were inspecting the floral tributes. Someone exclaimed in admiration at the Pearly Gates, even though they were from a cremation earlier in the day, a tribute to a stranger. This party was in a completely different mood from the one that had just gone in. They were chatting and laughing with relief at being outside, despite the rain. Their laughter seemed odd when another service had begun behind them, the tears and the music just starting over again for someone else.

Two limousines had been waiting here to take the family mourners away, even as the next hearse rolled into the porte-cochere. Cooper watched the two men in black frock coats who seemed to be in charge. They were a discreet presence, taking a party of mourners each, one coming in and one going out. Crematorium attendants, presumably.