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The crematorium has its own formal gardens. I think they were designed by Inigo Jones. In fact, that’s why the Palances acquired the site in the first place: the buildings and the grounds are very fine, and there’d been some talk of bulldozing them and building houses there. Michael Palance, who’s dead now, tried to get the building adopted by the National Trust, which was fairly new in those days, and when that failed he bought it himself.’

Carla walked in at this point, looking more than a little stunning in her widow’s weeds.

She clearly wasn’t all that happy to see Maynard Todd in her living room, but almost at the same moment there was a knock at the door – the four pall-bearers reporting for duty. They hefted the coffin and we got under way immediately, avoiding any need for an unpleasant scene. A few of the neighbours watched from behind lightly twitching curtains as John went off to the next instalment of his eternal reward. Carla walked regally down the steps and into the hearse, not sparing any of them so much as a glance.

Since all three of us rode together in the hearse, conversation was sparse and strained. That left me plenty of time to mull over the change in John’s will, and to chase my thoughts around in decreasing circles until I was sick of them. Cremation. Why had it mattered to John so much that he had drawn up a new will, and gone to a new law firm to make sure that his instructions were followed – no matter how much distress it might cause to Carla?

Nicky Heath, who as a zombie takes a lively (sic) interest in stuff like this, told me once that in early civilisations cremation was kind of cn wie a patriarchal thing.

‘You could think of the smoke as a ghost phallus if you wanted to,’ he said. ‘The dead man’s last stand, kind of thing. Or if that strikes you as a little off-colour, you could go for the official symbolism. You’re seeing the soul ascend to heaven to sit at God’s right hand. Matriarchies didn’t go for that whole heaven argument so much – they favoured burial because it was going back to the womb of Mother Earth.

Closing the big circle. You can’t get born again until you put yourself back.’ Needless to say, Nicky sides with the mothers on this one. Anyone who comes near him with a can of kerosene is likely to return to Mother Earth in a lot of separate pieces.

But John was a ghostbreaker through and through: there’re very few of us who have any time for religion.

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