‘And so are you. So he must have had something,’ she said meditatively.
‘I suppose he must,’ I said, turning to her at the door. ‘But it wasn’t enough, Frankie. Not to excuse that sort of treachery. I’m delighted he’s gone.’ I knew I’d thought it, but was surprised to hear myself say it.
Her kohl-blackened eyes widened. ‘Check you out.’ She stared. Gave it some thought. ‘Course, he was a married man, wasn’t he, which has its own attractions. For her, I mean. Someone else’s property and all that.’
‘Right.’ I held her eyes a moment, remembering the biology teacher. ‘See you later, Frankie. Archie’s bottle is in the fridge.’
Someone else’s property, I reflected as I strode off to the church. Well, she was welcome to him. Perhaps I shouldn’t have burned his things? Should have taken them round to her house, dumped them on the doorstep, said: here, have him. Which perhaps I would have done if he hadn’t died. If I’d just found out. Yes, how would that little scenario have played out, I wondered as I pushed the gate into the walled churchyard and walked up the path, slippery with leaves, the wind in my hair. Obviously I’d have divorced him and he’d have gone to live with her, but then it would have been so much messier for the children. Alternate weekends, chunks of the holidays, like Angie; plus a stepmother … a stepmother. I stopped. Rocked on my feet on the church step, worn smooth with age and generations of worshippers traipsing through. I glanced up. Thank you, I assured Him from the bottom of my heart as I pushed open the door. Thank you so much for sparing me all that.
Jennie was late, having dropped Jamie at scouts, but I knew the rules now and made firmly for the back row, away from Molly, where I saved my friend a place. As it happened, that put me beside Angus Jardine, he of the silver hair and silken tongue. Angus was a pond-leaper, but protocol required him to turn to me with a look of concern and clear his throat.
‘How are you, my dear? I say, I saw the report of the inquest in the local paper today. Hadn’t realized his death had been caused by one of those wretched easyJet planes. Terrible thing to have happened. Terrible.’
‘Oh, no, not really,’ I assured him placidly, shimmying out of my coat. ‘Could have been a lot worse.’
‘Really?’ He looked astonished. Paused to consider. To frown. ‘In what way, exactly?’
‘Well, he was having an affair. Phil, I mean. If he’d lived, it would have been a great deal messier, sharing the children, that kind of thing. I was just thinking that as I came up the path.’
His rheumy old eyes boggled in shock. ‘Euh,’ he muttered uneasily. ‘Good Lord.’
‘Yes, very good Lord, Angus.’ I raised my eyes and pointed to Him upstairs. ‘I was just thinking that too!’
Angus didn’t know what to say. He looked like he’d swallowed his dentures.
‘And sorry to have shocked you,’ I said more gently, putting my hand on his arm, ‘but the thing is, I’m not sure I can play the grieving widow any more when, frankly, I don’t feel remotely sad. Not now.’
Angus gave me a level stare for quite a long moment. Eventually he nodded. ‘Quite right. Good for you, old girl. Why be hypocritical?’
‘Why indeed.’
I held his gaze and then we both faced front in silence, digesting this. I knew I was a bit over the top at the moment, a bit out of control, but I couldn’t help it.
‘Has Peggy asked you about the book club?’ I asked at length, changing the subject.
‘Peggy? No.’
‘Oh, well, a few of us girls are starting one. Thought you might like to join.’
He smoothed back his flowing, Heseltinian locks delightedly. ‘I say …’ he purred, mouth twitching. ‘How sweet of you to think of me. D’you know, I don’t know …’
‘Oh, come on, Angus, you’ll love it.’ I nudged him. ‘Nattering away about Robert Harris’s latest thriller with a glass of Muscadet on a Tuesday? Got to be better than Panorama, surely?’
‘Yes. And Sylvia plays bridge on a Tuesday …’ You could see the wheels of his mind turning.
‘There you go, then. No reheated cauliflower cheese with an enormous baked potato on a tray.’
‘No.’ His eyes widened. ‘Quite. Well, I might.’ He looked enormously chipper suddenly. ‘Tell Peggy I might well.’
‘Might well what?’ said Jennie as she slipped in breathlessly beside me,