regrets at his graveside, maybe even meaning them, but looking forward also with well-hidden pleasure to a safely affluent future. Malcolm dead could spend no more. Malcolm dead would free them to spend instead.
‘Let’s go,’ he said to the superintendent, ‘I’m cold.’
An unwelcome thought struck me. ‘Did any of you,’ I asked the family, ‘tell Joyce… about the house?’
Donald cleared his throat. ‘Yes, I… er… broke it to her.’
His meaning was clear. ‘You told her we were dead?’
‘Vivien said you were dead,’ he said, sounding as defensive as she had. ‘She said I should tell Joyce, so I did.’
‘My God,’ I said to the superintendent, ‘Joyce is my mother. I’ll have to phone her at once.’
I turned instinctively back to the house, but the superintendent stopped me, saying the telephones weren’t working.
He, I and Malcolm began to move towards the gate, but we had gone only halfway when Joyce herself pushed through the crowd and ran forward, frantically, fearfully distraught.
She stopped when she saw us. Her face went white and she swayed as Serena had done, and I sprinted three or four long strides and caught her upright before she fell.
‘It’s all right,’ I said, holding her. ‘It’s all right. We’re alive.’
‘Malcolm …’
‘Yes, we’re both fine.’
‘Oh, I thought… Donald said… I’ve been crying all the way here, I couldn’t see the road …’ She put her face against my jacket and cried again with a few deep gulps, then pushed herself off determinedly and began searching her tailored pockets for a handkerchief. She found a tissue and blew her nose. ‘Well, darling,’ she said, ‘as you’re alive, what the hell’s been going on?’
She looked behind Malcolm and me and her eyes widened.
‘The whole bloody tribe come to the wake?’ To Malcolm she said, ‘You’ve the luck of the devil, you old bugger.’
Malcolm grinned at her, a distinct sign of revival.
The three ex-wives eyed each other warily. Any mushy idea that the near-death of the man they’d all married and the near-destruction of the house they’d all managed might have brought them to sisterly sympathy was a total non-starter.
‘Malcolm can come and stay with me,’ Joyce said.
‘Certainly not,’ Alicia said instantly, clearly alarmed. ‘You can take your precious Ian. Malcolm can go with Gervase.’
‘I won’t have it,’ Vivien said sharply, if Malcolm’s going anywhere, ‘It’s fitting he should stay with Donald, his eldest son.’
Malcolm looked as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.
‘He’s staying with me,’ I said. ‘If he wants to.’
‘In your flat?’ Ferdinand asked.
I had an appalling vision of my flat disintegrating like Quantum but, unlike Quantum, killing people above and below.
‘No, not there,’ I said.
‘Then where, darling?’ Joyce asked.
‘Wherever we happen to be.’
Lucy smiled. It was the sort of thing she was happy with. She pulled her big brown cloak closer round her large form and said that it sounded a thoroughly sensible proposal. The others looked at her as if she were retarded instead of the brains of the tribe.
‘I’ll go wherever I want to,’ Malcolm said flatly, ‘and with Ian.’
I collected a battery of baleful glares, all of them as ever afraid I would scoop their shares of the pool: all except Joyce, who wanted me to.
‘As that’s settled,’ she said with a hint of maternal smugness which infuriated all the others, ‘I want to see just how bad the damage is to the house.’ She looked at me briefly. ‘Come along, darling, you can show me.’
‘Run along, mummy’s boy,’ Gervase said spitefully, smarting from having been spurned by Malcolm.
‘Poor dear Ian, tied to mummy’s apron strings.’ Berenice’s effort came out thick with detestation. ‘Greedy little Ian.’
‘It isn’t fair,’ Serena said plaintively, ‘Ian gets everything, always. I think it’s beastly.’
‘Come on, darling,’ Joyce said, ‘I’m waiting.’
I felt rebellious, tried to smother it, and sought for a different solution.
‘You can all come,’ I said to them. ‘Come and see what really happened here.’
The superintendent had in no way tried to break up the family party but had listened quietly throughout. I happened to catch his eye at that point, and he nodded briefly and walked back beside Malcolm as everyone slowly moved round to the rear of the house.
The extent and violence of the damage there silenced even Gervase. All of the mouths gaped: in all eyes, horrified awe.
The chief fireman came over and with a certain professional relish began in a strong Berkshire accent to point out the facts.
‘Blast travels along the lines of least resistance,’ he said. ‘This is a good strong old