The second his mobile went dead, Jack dropped it onto the ground and struggled round onto his knees, desperately trying not to use his broken arm. He zipped the bag, stuffed it underneath the passenger seat, grimacing through the pain, and then he collapsed onto his back, panting for breath. He finally let go, and allowed himself the painless joy of passing out.

Chapter 39

Jack was in awe of the sheer number of cars bringing more and more mourners to Totnes Crematorium. Hundreds of people he’d never even met—from the building trade, from the pub, from Charlie’s Labour Club, from Penny’s bridge club. The driveway was a sea of slow-moving people and vehicles.

Maggie linked her arm through Jack’s plaster cast. His good arm was inside his newly dry-cleaned sergeant’s uniform and his broken arm was in a sling underneath it.

“Remember when you said your dad wouldn’t be remembered by as many people as Harry Rawlins? I don’t think this lot would agree with you.”

Jack did recall saying it. He’d been looking at news articles from Harry’s funeral; half of London’s gangsters and half of London’s coppers stood shoulder to shoulder. It had been an impressive sight that he thought would never be matched by Charlie. But this was better. Because all of these mourners actually loved Charlie.

Ridley cut an impressive figure as he walked up the driveway in his black suit. Even though he was a good few inches shorter and narrower than Charlie’s tradesman mates who surrounded him, he stood out as being a man to be reckoned with.

“Condolences.” He shook Jack’s hand. “The uniform looks good on you. Impressive turnout, your dad was clearly much loved.”

“Thank you, sir. And thank you for stepping in. The arm’s not healing quick enough and Mum didn’t want strangers doing it.”

“It’s an honor to be asked, Jack.” Ridley kissed Maggie on the cheek. “It’s been a tough time for you both.”

Five strapping older men, probably in their sixties or even seventies, approached and introduced themselves to Jack and Ridley as the other pallbearers. Maggie took this as her cue to stand by Penny’s side, put her arm tightly round her waist and help her to put one foot in front of the other. That’s all Penny had to do today. Tomorrow would be tackled when it arrived.

Penny was taking deep breaths, trying to maintain dignity in the face of such unimaginable tragedy. But Maggie’s touch immediately broke through all her defenses and the tears came.

“Sorry,” Maggie whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Jack looks handsome in his uniform, doesn’t he?” Penny’s words were barely audible. “He was the same as a Scout—uniforms suit him. I was so disappointed when he got kicked out, because they wouldn’t let me keep his smart little shirt.”

“Why was Jack was kicked out of the Scouts?” Maggie asked, keen to keep the conversation light.

“He was a bit on the naughty side. When all the other boys were lining up or sitting in a circle, he’d be off doing his own thing. Not very good with authority, they said. And when he was finally tracked down and the Scoutmaster asked what he’d been up to, he’d come up with some fairy story about playing cops and robbers. Not sure which one he was.”