Danny picked up a tangerine and very deliberately began to peel one, her fingers long and thin and covered in rings. Only when she had completed her task did she speak.

“I tried to talk to him about it. I found bills he hadn’t even opened. He didn’t pay the mortgage. He took out insurance policies and stopped paying for them. What can you do?” She gave a harsh laugh. “You know when they say someone was worth more dead than alive? That wasn’t true of poor old Liam.”

She ripped a sheet off a kitchen roll on the table and blew her nose, then rested her chin on Alfie’s soft curls.

“His funeral’s on Tuesday afternoon.”

“I didn’t know.” Jude thought of his instructions. She hesitated, then spoke.

“I’m sure you’re already aware of this, but he said that he wanted a wicker coffin—”

“Yeah, yeah. And his old boots to go on top.”

“Yes.”

“What he really wanted was to be set alight in a boat and then pushed out to sea like a Viking, but it turns out that’s quite hard to arrange. We’re having a kind of thing, celebration of his life you could call it, near here. Then a wake back here and the day after he’ll be buried in Walthamstow cemetery.”

“I’m sure it will be beautiful.”

“I don’t know about that. We’re all arranging it together, and I’m sure you’ll have realized that this house isn’t exactly the most organized. Lots of unrehearsed live music and people getting up to say things they haven’t prepared.”

“Liam would have liked that.”

“Will you make some food for the wake?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. It’ll be here.”

“I didn’t even know if you’d want me at the funeral.”

Danny snorted, but it wasn’t unfriendly.

“Seriously, I don’t need to come if you’d prefer me not to.”

“You’re joking, right? The woman he was going to meet on the day he died. The woman he named as his executor. The woman he left his beloved wooden bowl to . . . Anyway, if you could cook stuff for the wake.”

“What kind of things?” Jude asked warily.

“You decide. Not cucumber sandwiches or anything like that. And it’s not just you. I’m asking everyone I can think of to bring something. As long as I don’t have to do anything.”

“How many are you expecting?”

“No idea. Whoever decides to turn up. Liam knew loads of people; he drew them in somehow. Moths to a flame. People met him once and wanted to be his friend.”

Jude nodded. She watched Alfie reach up and dig his fingers into the soft mass of Danny’s hair.

“So I’ll bring lots of food that isn’t sandwiches on Tuesday,” she said.

“And don’t wear black.”

Tears glittered on Danny’s lashes.