I wander through a sea of people, all dressed in black. I sip on a glass of… something and wonder when it would be appropriate for me to leave. I’ve never met any of these people before, I’ve never even met the man in the coffin who claims to be my father. I’m beginning to wish I’d brought Morher if only so I had someone to talk to, but I doubt her presence would be welcome. I’m surprised I got an invite.

“You must be Mr Williams,” says a voice behind me.

I turn to see a short woman with grey hair and glasses. She’s the first person to call me by my mothers last name rather than my fathers.

“Yes, I am. And you?” I ask.

“I’m Miss Jones, Mr Miller’s butler.” She holds out her hand and I shake it.

“How long have you worked for him?” I ask trying to make conversation. I’ve never been very good at small talk.

“Decades. Since before you were even born.”

“So, you knew him well then?”

“You could say that.”

I pause, unsure what to say next, before asking, “What was his favourite colour?”

I don’t know why I asked that of all things. I just want to know something about him that isn’t how rich he was.

“Favourite colour? No idea. But his darkest secrets? Those I knew well…”

“What do you mean ‘darkest secrets’?” I ask hesitantly.

“You didn’t really think he got to be that rich just by playing nice, did you?” She smiles and wanders off to join a group of other people.

I rush after Miss Jones, forcing my way through the crowd to get to her. When I do I grab her arm and turn her to face me.

“What did you mean by that?” I demand. “What did he do?”

“Trust me, boy,” she says as the smile falls from her face, “you do _not_ want to know.”