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me putting a bit of distance between us? Pointing out that the Church of England itself doesn’t actually have a problem with megalithic remains, which, of course, it
doesn’t
. . . And you’re looking unconvinced.’
    ‘Might be as well not to appear compromised by your daughter’s demonstrable
enthusiasm
, if that’s the best word . . .?’
    ‘She’s excited. It’s like they’re
her
stones, and it’s given her a direction at just the right time. James . . . is there anything in your family records about standing stones in Coleman’s Meadow?’
    ‘Should there be?’
    ‘If we
could
find out why they were buried, just to keep Shirley quiet?’
    ‘If it was done in secret, wouldn’t be any record. Look, if this site’s as significant as your daughter and her friends appear to thinkthen English Heritage will step in to conserve it and neither that woman nor Pierce will be able to do a bloody thing about it.’
    ‘He won’t give up. Development of Coleman’s Meadow opens the way for a whole swathe of housing and before you know it . . . Ledwardine New Town? That’s not conspiracy-theorist talk, James, any more than Lyndon’s plans for
this
site . . .’
    ‘What’ve you heard?’
    Merrily said nothing. What she’d heard was that Stu Twigg, another of Pierce’s clients, owned the ground that the village hall was built on. Ground now being eyed by an unnamed supermarket company. So that if the population of Ledwardine grew to a level which made a superstore not only viable but desirable, and the hall was to be replaced by a new leisure centre on a greenfield site elsewhere, the client – and, arguably, his accountant – would be quids in.
    ‘Forgot you were a close friend of Gomer Parry,’ James said. ‘Man with little understanding of the word
slander
.’
    ‘No, you didn’t. Look, nobody’s averse to immigration, all populations change . . . but surely, in a village, it should be a trickle. And it should be balanced. Right now, virtually the only people who can afford to move in here are the well-off who want to get out of London. So Pierce and his mates build hundreds of executive homes and an army of the retired rich move in, and the local kids have to move out to the cities, and Ledwardine starts to lose its identity . . . doesn’t even look like a village any more, just a chunk of suburbia with an open-air museum in the centre. I . . . Sorry.’ She fanned the air with her gloves. ‘Don’t usually go off like that.’
    ‘Look.’ James smiled thinly. ‘Let’s see how things progress. If English Heritage finds some value in the archaeology, then it’s all academic. If you have something to say, save it for the sermon. Or, on second thoughts, don’t. Night, vicar, Robinson. Ah—’ He looked at Lol. ‘Believe you’ve been asked to give us a bit of a concert?’
    Lol didn’t say anything.
    ‘At the Swan?’ James said. ‘Christmas Eve?’
    ‘Not sure about it yet,’ Lol said.
    Over a year after beating his fear of audiences, he still hadn’t played Ledwardine. No big deal . . . and yet it was.
    ‘Shame if you couldn’t,’ James said.
    They watched him leave, plucking his umbrella from the rack. The chances of James ever having heard one of Lol’s songs were slight.
    ‘That mean he’s on our side?’ Lol said.
    ‘Best not to rely on it.’ Merrily struggled with the zip of her coat, then let it go. ‘Lol, I don’t look ill or anything, do I? I mean, the way you . . .’
    ‘No.’ Lol smiled at her. ‘In fact, much as I hate to paraphrase Clapton, you look—’
    ‘Oh,
please
. Come on, let’s go and put the kettle on.’
    ‘Would that be a euphemism?’
    ‘No! I actually need a cup of
tea
. And an earlyish night – Tom Parson’s funeral tomorrow at Hereford Crem.’
    Lol nodded.
    ‘I was thinking,’ he said, ‘if it wasn’t time for us to . . .’
    She looked up from the bottom of the zip.
    ‘To what?’
    He didn’t reply and Merrily saw, for a moment, the