Liz, herding and rearranging, ringing an ambulance for Hattie, picking up fragments of Royal Worcester, encouraging Deirdre to make more coffee, wheedling the vicar out of the study and into conversation with Mr Goodfellow, looks around her with pride and satisfaction. It has all gone off very well. She should give parties more often, she decides, as the ambulance wails to a halt outside her front gate, as Hattie descends the stairs on Aaron’s arm, as party-goers assemble on the path to wave and blow kisses and shout good luck, good luck, let us know how you get on! Another grandchild, what fun! Ah, life is amazingly exhilarating, thinks Liz, as she turns back to her house full of people. The vicar and Mr Goodfellow are talking about Confucius, Jesus Christ and worldly goods. They speak of the blessed life of the vagrant. ‘Yes,’ repeats Mr Goodfellow, ‘Stephen didn’t have many things.’

After Hattie’s departure, the party ebbs, and guests begin to take their leave. There is a brief flurry of revived energy as an Express Delivery van arrives from Gatwick Airport bearing a large white oblong cardboard box as big as a tombstone containing a sheaf of yellow and wine-brown orchids and a message from Miss Porntip. It is greeted with admiration and disapproval. Deirdre fails in her attempt to find a vase large enough to contain the ostentatious blooms, and goes upstairs to have a little lie-down on the spare bed vacated by Hattie. She falls fast asleep. Jonathan, distracted, drives off to Norwich. Charles also drives off, saying he is going back to the office, but Liz suspects he is going for a little lie-down in Kentish Town. Robert Oxenholme’s car arrives, but Esther says she will not accompany him: she will stay a little to help Liz tidy up. Brian nods off in the large chair in Liz’s study. He tires easily these days.

And so it is that Esther, Alix and Liz, the Evader, the Widow Maker and the Wounded Healer, find themselves drinking tea in Liz’s kitchen, and chewing over the day’s events. Yes, they agree, it had all gone well. The service, the music, the readings. It had been a good turn-out, they had done Stephen proud, and Hattie’s timing had been inspired. A death and a birth. Of course, says Liz, it wasn’t entirely accidental, she had arranged it on purpose. Stage-managed it. A theatrical couple, Hattie and Aaron. In Liz’s view, the baby will be a boy, but Aaron, although he knows, will not tell her. Hattie wants to be surprised, so Liz too will have to wait. Alix is also about to become a grandmother. Ilse is expecting a baby any day now. She knows it will be a girl. She will be called Maia. No, Alix does not know why: some private reason.