‘And that vicar, how he droned on! I didn’t feel a flicker of spiritual devotion, not a flicker, only a vague kind of annoyance. I can’t imagine your brother being in heaven now playing the harp – can you?’

‘I don’t think the vicar said anything about a harp, did he? It would have been unscriptural.’

‘I hate the idea of an afterlife. The shocking insecurity of it all – the spectacular lack of privacy – bumping into people you’d hoped never to see again or wondering why so-and-so was not there! It would be my idea of hell.’

‘Plenty of soda, did you say? Wise girl. Here you are, my dear.’ He handed her a glass. I am not sure I like having drinks with my wife, he thought. I used to, but I no longer do. And she is wrong if she expects me to start discussing my religious beliefs with her. ‘Chin-chin, my dear.’

‘Chin-chin… The moment the coffin disappeared into the furnace, the Sorcière Six all looked immensely relieved. Why did they look so relieved?’

‘Scotch and soda is my favourite drink,’ he said. ‘No question about it. Next to frozen Daiquiris.’

‘Clarissa was wearing all her pearls and all her diamonds, which was certainly de trop, and such a theatrical little hat. To start with, her face was a studied Madonna Dolorosa, but then it began to crumple-’

‘You don’t think Clarissa loved Roderick?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Clarissa is the voguish vamp type. In profile she brings to mind Madame Sarkozy.’

‘Clarissa is so overloaded with sex, it sparkles. She reminds me of one of those golden striped things that roam the jungle… It’s perfectly obvious she’s had an affair with the doctor, which he has now ended.’ Felicity put down her glass. ‘What do we know about your brother’s death, Gerard? How exactly did he die?’

‘You know perfectly well how he died. They told us how he died. He had a heart attack. They were having a fancy-dress party or something, it was terribly hot and it all proved too much for him.’