Quintin Jardine: Grievous Angel

Me? Well, you know about me. A failed second marriage with the consolation of two lovely kids and one adopted boy, until I was way luckier than I deserved, and another soulmate came along. Now I’m never lonely in the dark of night.

And Mia? What about her? I would say, ‘Who knows?’ only…

A couple of years ago I was playing about online, after everyone else had gone to bed, when I happened upon an English-language radio station that was based in the south of Spain. There was a female presenter on air at the time, with a mature, smoky voice, and an accent that was vaguely Scottish.

I’d clicked on the link because of her name: she called herself Mary Whitehouse. I’m sure that meant nothing to her younger listeners, and I imagine that the older part of her audience thought only that she was having a laugh at the old decency campaigner’s expense.

She talked for a bit, about the weather on the Costa del Sol, about which of yesterday’s entertainers were appearing at which exclusive night spots, and then she cued up a song. ‘This for old friends, old lovers, and even some old enemies,’ she breathed. ‘You out there, you know this is for you. It’s Gram Parsons: “Return of the Grievous Angel”.’

‘God,’ I whispered. ‘I hope not.’