Phil Rickman - A Crown of Lights

‘Well, Merv coulder gone into a particlar pub in Kington,’ Gomer said. ‘Even over to Hereford. Her’d have worn that, no problem, long as he din’t go braggin’ about it.’

‘But Merv thought a man was entitled to have his needs met in his own home.’

It explained so much: why Barbara left home in a hurry, also why she had such a profound hatred of Radnor Forest. And why Menna had invaded her conscience so corrosively – to the extent, perhaps, that after she was dead, her presence was even stronger. When Menna no longer existed on the outside, in a fixed place in Radnorshire, she became a permanent nightly lodger in Barbara’s subconscious.

‘But the bedroom door musn’t have stayed closed, Gomer. Barbara said her father was determined to breed a son, but her mother miscarried, and then there was a hysterectomy.’

Gomer shrugged.

‘But then his wife died. Hang on, this friend of yours...’ Merrily was appalled. ‘If she knew about Barbara, then she must’ve known what might have been happening to Menna.’

‘Difference being, vicar, that Menna had protection. There was a good neighbour kept an eye on Menna, specially after her ma died. Judy Rowland. Judy Prosser now.’

Judy... Judith . ‘Barbara said she had letters from a friend called Judith, who was looking out for Menna. That eased her conscience a little.’

‘Smart woman, Judy. I reckons if Judy was lookin’ out for Menna, Menna’d be all right. Her’d take on Merv, would Judy, sure to.’

‘She still around?’

‘Oh hell, aye. Her’s wed to Gareth Prosser – councillor, magistrate, on this committee, that committee. Big man – dull bugger, mind. Lucky he’s got Judy to do his thinkin’ for him. Point I was gonner make, though, vicar, I reckon Judy was still lookin’ out for Menna, seein’ as both of ’em was living in Ole Hindwell.’

‘You mean after her marriage?’

‘No more’n five minutes apart, boy at the pub told me.’

‘So if she also still kept in touch with Barbara, maybe Barbara went to see her, too, while she was here.’

‘Dunno ’bout that, but her went to see Greta, askin’ questions ’bout Dr Coll.’

Gatecrashed his surgery. Made a nuisance of myself. Not that it made any difference. Bloody man told me I was asking him to be unethical, pre-empting the post-mortem .

‘What did Barbara want to know about Dr Coll?’

‘Whether he was treatin’ Menna ’fore she died, that kind o’ stuff.’

‘What’s he look like, Dr Coll?’

‘Oh... skinny little bloke. ’Bout my build, s’pose you’d say. Scrappy bit of a beard.’

‘He was at Menna’s funeral. The private bit.’

‘Ar, would be.’

‘So where’s Barbara then, Gomer? Where is Barbara Thomas?’

‘I could go see Judy Prosser, mabbe. Anybody knows the score, it’s her. I’ll sniff around a bit more. What else I gotter do till the ole grass starts growin’ up between the graves again?’

It was colder now. The mist had dropped down over the tip of the steeple. Gomer’s roll-up was close to burning his lips. He took it out and squeezed the end. He looked sadly at the grave, his bag of frozen pasties on his knees and his head on one side like a dog, as if he was listening for the ticking of those two watches under the soil.

‘I’ve got to go back there today.’ She told him about Old Hindwell seemingly metamorphosed into Salem, Mass. ‘You, er, don’t fancy coming along?’

Gomer was on his feet. ‘Just gimme three minutes to put these buggers in the fridge, vicar.’

Jane was not happy. Jane was deeply frustrated. She telephoned Eirion from the scullery.

‘They’ve found out where that church is! The pagan church? I had completely forgotten about it! The one that woman was going on about on Livenight ? I’d forgotten about it. Like, you apparently lose all these brain cells when you have a bump, and I just didn’t remember that stuff, and then bits started coming back, and I knew there was something vital, but I couldn’t put my fing— Anyway, it’s all over one of the papers. It’s somewhere just your side of the border. And she’s just raced off over there... on account of there’s this major scene going down.’

‘Major scene?’ Eirion said.

‘And I’m, like, I have got to check this out! But would she let me go with her? Like, she’s even taken Gomer with her. But not me – the person who is profoundly interested in this stuff? And, like, because of the other night there is, of course, not a thing I can do about it. She just puts on this calm, sorrowful expression and she looks me in the eyes, and she’s like, “You’re going to stay here, this time, aren’t you, flower?” I am completely, totally, utterly stuffed .’

Eirion said calmly, ‘So how are you now, Eirion? How’s the whiplash? Is there any chance your car isn’t a complete write-off?’

‘Ah.’ Jane sat down at the desk. ‘Right. Sorry, Irene. You have to understand that self-pity is, like, my most instinctive and dominant emotion.’

‘You OK?’

‘Yeah, slept a lot. Still feel a bit heavy when I first get up, but no headaches or anything. No scars at all. Like I said, some things I can’t remember too clearly. About that programme and stuff. But... yeah. Yeah, I’m OK.’

‘My stepmother spoke to your mother. I’ve been feeling I ought to ring her, too. Do you think she’d be OK about that?’

‘With you she’d be fatally charming. So is it a write-off?’

‘Interesting you should ask about the car before asking about me.’

‘I know you’re OK. Your stepmother told Mum you were OK.’

‘I might have subsequently suffered a brain haemorrhage in the night.’

‘Did you?’

Eirion paused. ‘Yes, it is a write-off. A car that old, if you break a headlamp, it’s a write-off.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I loved that car. I worked all summer at a lousy supermarket for that little Nova. I should get just about enough on the insurance to replace it with a mountain bike.’

‘Irene, I’m really, really sorry.’ Jane felt tears coming. ‘It’s all my fault. Everything I touch these days I screw up. I don’t suppose you want to see me ever again, but one day – I swear this on my mother’s... altar – I’ll get you another car.’

‘What, you mean in fifteen years’ time I’ll come home one day in my Porsche and find a thirty-year-old Vauxhall Nova outside my penthouse?’

‘In my scenario,’ Jane said, ‘you’re actually trudging home to your squat.’

‘Let’s forget the car,’ Eirion said. ‘You can sleep with me or something instead.’

‘OK.’

Silence.

Eirion said, ‘Listen, I’m sorry. That just came out. That was a joke.’

‘I said it was OK.’

‘You don’t understand,’ Eirion said. ‘I don’t want it to be like that.’

‘You don’t want to sleep with me?’

‘I mean, I don’t want it to be like... like you shag first and then you decide if you want to know the person better. I don’t want it to be like that. It never lasts. Most of the time that’s where it all ends.’

‘You’ve done a lot of this?’

‘Well... erm, I was in a band. You get around, meet lots of people, hear lots of stories. It’s just not how I want it to be with us, OK?’

‘Wow. You don’t mess around on the phone, do you?’

‘Yeah, I’m good on the phone,’ Eirion said. ‘Listen... It’s been weird. I can’t stop thinking about that stuff. I’ve just been walking round the grounds and turning it all over and over—’

‘Oh, the grounds ...’

‘I can’t help my deprived upbringing. No, I was thinking how close we came to being like—’