‘That Kate bird reminds me of Renée sometimes. I don’t mean in her looks, but she’s got the same air about her like.’

Patrick nodded. ‘I know what you mean.’

‘Is it serious like? The relationship?’ Willy’s voice trailed away. He knew he was on dangerous ground, but his natural nosiness overcame any fear.

Patrick stopped on the newly cut grass of Corbets Tey Cemetery and stared at his old friend.

‘It’s serious enough, Marjorie Proops. Happy now you know all the scandal?’

Willy jutted his chin. ‘Well, you’re me mate, ain’t you? I just want to know that you’re all right like.’

Patrick shook his head. Making a fist, he punched the air gently by Willy’s face.

‘We go back a long time. You know everything about me as I do about you. I know you just want to know how I am, and I’m all right, bearing up.’

Willy smiled. ‘Well, that’s all right then! Fancy coming for a beer in the Robin Hood? I ain’t been in there for years. The Flying Bottle we used to call it when we was young, remember? We’d sit outside in the summer with Mandy in her pushchair and worry in case we saw someone we knew who’d tell Renée we’d taken the baby to a pub!’

Patrick nodded, smiling as he was assailed by a vivid memory.

Mandy in a white and pink organdie dress, her little fat legs wriggling with excitement every time Willy made a face at her.

For the first time it occurred to him that Willy must be feeling her loss almost as much as he was. She had been like his child as well. He had chronicled her growing up. Never missed a birthday or Christmas.

Patrick felt a lump in his throat and swallowed it down hard. He linked his arm through his minder’s and Willy patted the gloved hand.

‘I remember it well.’

Evelyn had made an Irish stew, a real Irish stew that was thick enough to stand the spoon up in it. She tasted it and added another dash of salt, stirring the mixture for a while. When the smell was just to her satisfaction she placed the suet dumpling on the top and put a large cover over the pan. Evelyn’s Irish stews could last for anything up to a week. She added to them every day, different vegetables and different meats. The cereals and pulses gave a pungent thickness that made the final end of the stew into a thick broth.

Lizzy was home today and she wanted her to be welcomed with the smell of good hearty food.