‘No! Of course not! How would she?’ But even as she was speaking, Kate was remembering the first time she’d introduced Margaret to Stuart. It was in the summer, an unusually fine day and she’d put lunch in the small garden at the back of the house. Chilled white wine and cheese and salad. She’d called up to Margaret: ‘Come down and meet the new man in my life.’ Margaret had walked out onto the patio and Stuart had stood to meet her, and for a moment Kate had been sure there’d been a mutual jolt of recognition.

Chapter Seventeen

Joe Ashworth pushed on the door of the church and was surprised when it opened. It was midweek and weren’t all churches locked these days because of a fear of theft and vandalism? But it seemed that he’d walked into the middle of a service. Inside a scattering of elderly women sat on the front pews. They all turned and stared, curious. The priest was kneeling with his back to them and continued to read a prayer. The women turned back to the front and joined in a response. The priest’s voice was deep and musical. Joe took a seat at the back and waited. They stood. A skeletal woman with fingers like claws began a tune on the organ and they sang a hymn. Very slowly. Stopping occasionally to allow the music to catch up. Again the priest’s voice rose above them, carrying them along. The music stopped and they dropped to their knees for a moment of private prayer, before pulling together their belongings and turning to chat. The service, it seemed, was over. The women disappeared into a door to the left of the building and Peter Gruskin swept up the aisle towards Joe.

‘I’m sorry to have interrupted.’ Joe introduced himself.

‘It’s the Mothers’ Union.’ The priest nodded towards the door through which the women had gone. ‘They meet every month and we always start with a short service. They’ll be having coffee and mince pies. The last session before Christmas.’ He sounded wistful and Joe had the sense that he resented being kept away from the pies.

‘I’ll not keep you long.’

Gruskin sighed and sat on the pew next to Joe. Under his cassock he was wearing black cord trousers and old-fashioned black shoes. The men were of a similar age, but had nothing at all in common. Joe saw that there was a hole in the priest’s sock, near the ribbing, and he wondered what it must be like to live alone in a place like Mardle, with only elderly women to keep you company. Because Joe was sure that Gruskin was single.

Through the open door came the high-pitched chatter of women’s voices, the clink of teaspoons against crockery.