dark glasses. As funerals go, it was going well enough. Jasper slumped in the family pew of the village church, breathing slowly and trying to keep naus

t in the eye, he walked towards the simple and ancient pulpit. He was so tired his eyes were half-closed, which i

giggles from the

s. He rested his hands on the front of the pulpit, more to keep himself standing than anything

heart not

had loved him through all his infidelities. Most of the women he knew would have walked out years ago. He

ll managed to get a first and then he did his stint in the Army which included two tours in Helmand. That was the only thing his fa

been treated. Incandescent, because father was a bastard to her. Sad, his father never got on with him. Always criticising everything he had done, not even a h

y times. He was sorry for being late this morning, the last thing he wanted was to upset her even

w more coughs a

in God; belie

nd heads slowly dipped. Jasper looked around, the chief constable glared back at him, his face pale with anger. He'd made an enemy there, but Samuel Chichest

ir business too, whether they wanted her to or not. Jasper had attended the last parish council meeting on behalf of his father, and Marsha Reed had done a perfect imitation of an octopus, her hands had been everywhere, touching his knee, his arm, his thigh. H

throat, urging him to c

ouse are many rooms

you that I go to pre

of crap, Roper Albright, the chair of the county council. Rumour had it that he wanted to

eading when the main door opened and som

ked familiar. He leaned against the wall, or rather, against the tombstone of Sir Henry Applewick,

coffin, and still breathing slowly to assuage nausea, which was barely helped by the scent of the lilies, he was s