Lucy was buried in the graveyard at the church of the Surrey village in which Kate had grown up. It was a blustery day with occasional bursts of sunshine and spits of rain, which seemed somehow appropriate for her mother’s changeable temperament.

Kate went through the motions. She chose the coffin, planned the service and the wake in the nearby village hall, then issued the invitations, mostly verbally, working through her mother’s telephone book to friends long forgotten. It was all-consuming, even if she did have the help of Rose and her children, and extremely lonely.

On the day, in the run-up to the service, despite the warm squeezes of affection from many good and decent people – a lot of them really old friends of her father, Jim – she was conscious of feeling absolutely nothing save for the faintest hint of relief.

Even as she watched her mother’s coffin lowered into the earth and they bade their final farewells, she couldn’t summon anything that vaguely resembled a tear. She told herself she was staying strong for Fiona and Gus, both of whom were visibly stricken with grief.

Kate turned away towards the village hall with a bewildering sense of otherness. What on earth was wrong with her? Who buries their mother and feels nothing in the process?

Other than that, the funeral was notable for the surprising nature of the guest list. Stuart had returned, having been given special permission to enter the United Kingdom for twenty-four hours by the prime minister via Shirley Grove, while Sir Alan Brabazon and Ian Granger had turned up uninvited, telling Kate at the entrance to the church that they wanted to be there to ‘support’ her.

Kate had no idea how Ian could even have found out Lucy had died, unless he had taken to surveying the deaths column of The Times, which seemed unlikely.

Stuart drove them from the church to the village hall in silence. He squeezed Kate’s hand in the front of the car and she wished he wouldn’t. But she didn’t ask him to stop, or even catch his eye.

She waited inside the door of the hall and greeted the mourners as they filed into the drab interior, sipped champagne and ate canapés, which Rose and her husband Simon had organized and paid for. Since Simon was a very successful financier, both were expensive.

After the first few dozen guests, Kate grew tired of her obligations and took to circulating among those who had already filed in. She was mostly intent on avoiding people she didn’t wish to have to confront today. Aside from Ian, and possibly even Sir Alan, they included Emma Johnson, the wife of the man Lucy had conducted an affair with throughout most of Kate’s childhood. Their daughter, Helen, had been Kate’s best friend until the affair had been revealed, after which they were never allowed to speak again.

Kate had not invited Emma Johnson and she was insulted that she had turned up. Once or twice, she caught Emma heading in her direction and quickly moved on.