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and wait a few minutes, more like hours, actually.
    Wearing what can only be described as a voluptuous cream towelling robe the man in my life finally appeared. There was a small graze on the side of his cheek, a bruise on his jaw and he was as white as the immaculate bedding, only with a greenish-grey tinge. I surveyed him closely as he registered surprise when he saw me.
    â€˜Hi! I’m off the drip,’ he said, somewhat unnecessarily. ‘No more honking.’
    I got to my feet and went over to him. Close up, the fine grey eyes looked a little strange, which was to be expected.
    â€˜It all went horribly wrong, didn’t it?’ I said, putting my arms around him.
    â€˜Yes,’ he replied.
    â€˜You’ve had a hell of a time.’
    He hugged me tightly and then, his head on my shoulder, wept.
    Good, it would help.
    The room was quite large with armchairs in it, over to one of which I steered him after a couple of minutes when the worst was over. There was a jug of orange juice on a bedside cabinet and I poured some into a glass for him.
    â€˜Flushes through the system,’ I said matter-of-factly, handing it over, together with a tissue.
    â€˜How’s the new boy?’ he asked when he had mostly recovered, making an heroic effort to behave normally.
    â€˜Bouncing,’ I told him. ‘James Carrick thinks he’s just like me.’
    An eyebrow quirked and I suddenly realized that a joke about the likelihood of fallen women being stored away for possible further use did not have to mean that a man was stoned out of his noddle on drugs. There was such a thing as putting a brave face on things too so I became even more confused as to his real state of mind.
    â€˜You saw James then?’
    â€˜Yes, there was a murder in the church.’
    â€˜What, at Hinton Littlemoor? At home ?’
    I nodded. ‘It happened a few hours before your parents came back from holiday.’
    â€˜Who died?’
    â€˜You probably don’t know him. A Squadron Leader Melvyn Blanche.’
    â€˜I do know him. The man was insufferably rude to me. He came round while you were in hospital after having Mark and told me we had no business to buy the rectory.’
    â€˜On what grounds?’
    â€˜He didn’t say but I rather got the impression that he’d have gone after it himself if the place had not been sold by private treaty before it went to auction.’
    â€˜Don’t tell James – you might find yourself on his list of suspects.’
    Patrick actually smiled. ‘So he hasn’t got anyone for it yet then?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜How have Mum and Dad taken it?’
    â€˜As they usually cope with what life throws at them; splendidly. Your father’s asked the bishop to hold some kind of reconsecration service.’
    There did not seem to be much wrong with his recall of family matters.
    â€˜Before the funeral presumably.’
    â€˜No, that’s going to be held somewhere else. Your mother told me that the woman’s making it no secret that she’ll never worship in St Michael’s again.’ There was a short silence before I added, ‘Can you remember what happened this morning?’
    â€˜Some of it,’ Patrick answered shortly.
    â€˜Do you want to talk about it?’
    â€˜No, I’m trying not to think about it at all,’ he retorted harshly.
    I waited.
    â€˜She’s dead, isn’t she?’ he then said so quietly I could hardly hear him.
    â€˜Who? – Andrea Pangborne, or whatever she was calling herself at the time? Yes, she is.’
    Patrick shook his head. ‘No, Leanne, her daughter.’
    â€˜The eight-year-old?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜I’m afraid she is too.’
    This was all so utterly ghastly that I was feeling faint.
    â€˜As I said to you when you rang, I went to get her. I failed.’
    My ears roared. ‘You mean you went to get her out ?’
    He gave me a very