‘I was thinking about what people will say,’ said Griff. ‘At the funeral. They’ll come out of the woodwork, won’t they, all his mates. Ex-junkies, his old teachers and what have you, and they’ll all yabber on about how creative he was, what a great guy. I can hear it now. And to be honest with you, your brother was a stranger to me from the day he was born.’

He looked down into her face for a reaction, hoping to shock her.

‘I didn’t see much of him as a baby,’ he said. ‘And he was the sort of kid we would have beaten the crap out of at Stratford Grammar. He wouldn’t have lasted five minutes. Poetry? I mean, seriously. Who gives a shit?’

Bea looked past him, towards the open doors, trying to feel the fresh air on her face. A butterfly had flown into the ballroom. Luminous and bright blue, it flickered and dipped in the air.

‘When was this?’ she asked. ‘That you were imagining his funeral?’

‘Last night. Today.’

‘Everyone remembering him.’

‘Yes.’

‘And not being able to appreciate what they said.’

‘Yes.’

‘That must be horrible,’ she said, ‘feeling like that.’

‘It is,’ said Griff. ‘Yes, it is. You think you’ll have time. To sort stuff out with people.’

‘I know.’

‘Do you remember Alex’s school uniform?’

Her stomach flipped with the acuteness of her memory. ‘Yes. At Stowe?’

‘No, when he was a little boy.’

He held out his hand, in a rough approximation of Alex’s height as a small boy. ‘Grey jumper with a red stripe,’ he said. ‘Red tie. And a cap, like Just William. Always leaving it behind. Always under my feet, in the car. Red blazer.’

‘Yes,’ said Bea.

She watched the pretty butterfly, and wondered exactly how short its life was, and how far it was through that short life, as it flew about the sterile room, wasting precious seconds. Griff seemed to notice for the first time that she was sitting on the stairs, and that it wasn’t normal. He held out his hand.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Up you get.’

She took his hand and he pulled her to her feet.

‘I sent your brother on an errand,’ he said. ‘Anybody could have done it for me. Just one of those things, like collecting rent from the farm, just something to make him feel like he had a job, but if I hadn’t, he’d still be here. He’d be alive.’

‘You couldn’t possibly have known.’

He shrugged her off.

‘Griff, it was beyond your control.’

‘Beyond my control?’ He repeated it wonderingly, as if such a thing were unthinkable.

‘There was nothing at all you could have done.’

‘I shouldn’t have sent him.’

‘No. That’s not true,’ said Bea. ‘It’s easier to blame yourself than to accept your helplessness.’

‘Easier?’ He sounded offended.