Naomi was not initially surprised at this; he was Rupert’s business partner after all and long-term friend, but she was taken aback at the tone of his address.

‘It is always sad,’ Marcus said, ‘to bid farewell to a loved friend and, as one grows older, it seems a more frequent occurrence. Sad enough when the loss is through illness or due to the simple ravages of time alone, but to lose a loved one through violence; that is a greater tragedy.’

‘Violence?’ Naomi whispered. ‘What’s he on about?’

‘I have no idea.’

Naomi could hear that Marcus’s statement had caused consternation elsewhere too from the restless movement and murmured questions that rippled through the congregation. She heard the vicar speaking softly to Marcus and the uncertainty in the man’s voice even though she could not make out the words.

Marcus, however, would not be constrained.

‘Violence I say, and I will stand by that. To suggest that our friend died of natural causes is, I am sure, to ignore the truth of the matter. Rupert Friedman was found in a spot so remote and so removed from his usual haunts that I cannot believe he found his own way there. He had no reason to be there. No reason to have died, alone, uncomforted.’

‘Alec,’ Naomi breathed. Marcus’s voice cracked with the emotion of what he was saying and Naomi’s heart went out to him even though she could see no sense in what he was saying.

She felt Alec get to his feet and heard, in the hushed silence, his clear firm steps as he went up to Marcus Prescott.

‘It’s all right,’ Marcus Prescott said with some acerbity. ‘You don’t need to come and fetch me off my soapbox. I’ve said my piece, but if you loved your uncle half as much as he loved you then you’ll look into his death and you’ll find out that I’m right. Rupert was killed, sure as if some villain plunged a knife into his heart.’

I love the rain. Love to hear it falling when I’m snug inside and love to walk in it, provided I have a decent coat and a sturdy umbrella. I love to watch the clouds gather ready for a decent storm and the charcoal skies that prevail in the Fenland winters. If I could move Fallowfields a little closer to the sea then it would be a perfect place to live. To sit in my bedroom and watch the clouds roll in off a mean ocean would be the ultimate bliss, but to be truthful I can have no complaints. Life, with a few slips, has been a good ride and I like to think that even those slips have been put right.

The day I die it will be raining. I know this with the kind of certainty that strikes one at certain times. Rain washing my life away, washing me back into the rich brown earth.

Three

The wake was an odd affair. Marcus had hired a room in the local hotel and they retired there en mass. Alec lodged Naomi and Napoleon in a corner of the large room, close beside the window and with a table, behind which Napoleon could lie out of the way of careless feet and Naomi could keep people at a distance should she feel the need. He described the space to her: the double doors, the tables along the back wall set out with food, and the small bar in the corner.

‘How many people?’

‘Oh, must be close to fifty. Some from the church seem to have gone and others turned up for the free food.’

‘Alec, don’t be so cynical.’

‘Who’s cynical? I just know people. So do you. Marcus is holding court. I suppose I should mingle.’

‘Get me some of that free food first,’ Naomi teased. ‘Breakfast seems a long time ago.’

‘Will do. Sure you’ll be all right if I go and look like the bereaved nephew? I’d like to find out who’s here and what they were to Rupe.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ Naomi told him. ‘And you do need to make yourself visible, you know.’

Alec kissed her. He fetched food from the buffet table, picking items she could identify easily and gave her a brief rundown of what he’d put on her plate and where, then he kissed her again and left. Naomi ate, breaking her own rules and slipping the odd treat to Napoleon. Alec had brought wine and a glass of water and she sipped the wine slowly alternating with deep gulps of water. The room was stuffy and the sun through the window too hot on the side of her face. She wondered if she could manage to move.

The sound of people moving and chatting shifted around her. She caught snatches of conversation and was unsurprised to find that Marcus’s outburst in the church was a major topic of debate.

‘What was he thinking of?’ A woman’s voice.

‘Was he drunk?’ This time a man. He sounded quite young, Naomi thought.

‘You never can tell with Marcus. Puts it away all right, but I’ve never seen him actually sozzled.’ An older man, this time. He had a broad accent with a warm burr to it that Naomi knew was local.

‘Not like dear old Rupert …’ The woman again.

‘Rupert was never … oh, I know he liked his pleasures, but …’ The older man. He sounded, Naomi thought, as though he too liked his pleasures and had already indulged.

‘Think there’s anything in what he said? Marcus, I mean.’ The younger man sounded excited at the prospect.

‘Marcus has a lively imagination and too much time on his hands,’ the woman said firmly and Naomi got the distinct feeling that this would mark the end of the discussion. Mother and son, she decided, reflecting upon their relationship, though she didn’t place the older man as the father. For some reason she couldn’t quite explain, the tone of the older speakers did not chime with their being man and wife.

She was right about the conversation change, though, and proved obliquely right about the relationship.

‘How are the plans for the wedding?’ the older man asked.

‘Oh, going very well, aren’t they, Phillip. You know, she is a lovely girl, but I’m not so sure I like the parents.’

They drifted away and Naomi focussed on identifying another conversation. She bit into one of the little cherry tomatoes Alec had put on her plate, savouring the burst of flavour, and then sampled something long and crispy that turned out to be a cheese straw. From across the room she heard Alec’s voice, but not the words. Directly in front of her she heard a woman laugh. Off to the left a couple bickered. Naomi listened with momentary interest, but as the object of disagreement seemed to be a mother-in-law – whose, she wasn’t sure – she decided it would soon become a boring exchange and not worth the attention.

The sandwich was odd. Goats cheese? And something fruity, like a plum chutney. She was in two minds as to whether the ingredients went together, but finished it anyway and then took another sip of wine. Two men were discussing the price and profitability of sugar beet and Naomi was about to dismiss them when she heard one man say, ‘Bit of a rum deal him being out your way, Frank. I knew the old bugger liked to walk, but he usually kept to the Peatlands trail. I never knew him to off-road, like.’

‘Off-road.’ Naomi was amused. It made it sound as though Uncle Rupert moved on wheels.

‘Never knew him to come out that far, that’s true. And the couple what found him noticed he weren’t dressed for walking. Got his town shoes on and you know how particular the old bugger were when it came to his clothes and such. No coat, neither.’

‘It was a hot day.’

‘True, but he were an old fashioned sort of bloke, weren’t he. Never saw him in shirtsleeves, not any time. I reckoned he never felt dressed without his jacket.’

The second man laughed. ‘Careful, Frank. You’ll be agreeing with old Marcus next and we all know he’s barmy!’

‘Not a bit of it. I’m just saying that it were strange, that’s all. The couple what found him, they came straight up to the farm and I called the police and then went out with the man while the missus looked after the girl, like. We went back to where they found him and there he is, lying on his back. Face up to the sky, he was. Looked as shocked as any man I’ve ever seen and I seen a few dead ‘uns, as well you know.’