We went out. The sun was pale, sending long-fingered rays through the yew trees. Em was some distance away and we ambled down the path together to where the more recently departed were laid to rest. Her grave was well tended. There were flowers less than a week old. A jackdaw cawed.

“He’s waiting for his sandwiches,” I said to Peter, and then, “I wish you could be with us, Em. I wish you were still here.”

Not possible. Not possible …

How thin Peter looked. How careworn. He seemed lost in thought, his brow knitted as it did when he was puzzling over something.

My mother’s grave wasn’t far away. After the funeral, I’d not been back. Now I was surprised to find it neat, neither mossy nor overgrown. Crouching, I traced her name with my fingers upon the headstone. There was no dedication, only her name and the dates. I hadn’t known what to say then. I still didn’t know what to say now, but I was willing to talk to her.

“Hello,” I said. “Hello.”

When I turned away, Peter was no longer alone. Two men were standing with him at Em’s graveside. One of them was in the act of stepping forward and taking something from his pocket.

And the girl said NO, and I was running, running toward them. A hissing sound escaped my mouth. The two men turned to me. I saw a look of confusion pass over the nearest one’s face. As I covered the last remaining distance between us, he stopped in his tracks. All three frozen, as I bore down on them, hissing like a gorgon, talons outstretched.

“No, it’s not … It’s all right, Andy.” The two men had retreated, putting a large marble headstone between us. I advanced. I would give them dearly departed. I would show them resting in peace. “Really, Andy,” Peter said, taking my arm. His lips twitched in a smile. “So small,” he said, “so fighty.”

The taller of the men had been at his pocket again. Now he proffered an identity badge. “John Hollis,” he said. “MI5. This is my colleague David Lamb.”

“You’re not taking him.”

“We’ve just been explaining to Mr. White that he is under no obligation to speak to us whatsoever.”

“What was the name of your private detective, Andy?”

“Mr. Hutchinson. Why?”

“I think you’ll find he’s in the hospital,” Hollis said. He seemed to have recovered himself. The other man, Lamb, kept one hand inside his jacket. “Fell out of a car on the motorway. He’ll be all right though. Eventually. Now, as I was saying, Mr. White, we can only recommend, for your own safety and the safety of your loved ones, that you willingly enter our custody. There are, of course, matters we hope you will choose to assist us with.”

I took hold of Peter’s arm tightly.