Lucy passed along them, nodding at one or two as she did so. At the top of the walkway, Karen Hughes’s mother, Marian, stood, supported by two older men, both bearing a strong familial resemblance to her. They held an arm each, as if the woman was physically unable to remain upright unaided. Her face was slick with tears as she nodded her head in acknowledgement of the condolences offered to her by two passing mourners. Lucy approached her, her hand extended. ‘Ms Hughes,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ The woman stared at her, trying to place her perhaps, and Lucy could see in the glaze of her eyes that she had obviously taken something to help her make it through the morning. ‘Thank you,’ she said, having failed to recognize her. ‘These are my brothers.’ Lucy smiled grimly as she took the hand of each, one after the other, and offered her sympathies on their loss. She reflected that, in the entire time she had known Karen, she had not once seen or heard of either man.
