So everyone knew, did they? Jonathan knew. His mother knew. That girl had known, and she was no one, a stranger over the other side of the world. Perhaps he had always been aware that there was something that Jonny had seen that he wouldn’t tell. But that was Jonny’s way. Jonny always had that way of looking like he knew something you didn’t. Jonny hid things from you and sometimes he told you stories, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to tell when a thing was true and when it wasn’t.

He wasn’t like Jonny. He didn’t have anything hidden. He saw what he saw, a plain world, and that was what he knew, and if he didn’t see for himself then he believed what his mother said, even if he didn’t believe what Jonny said. Even when it was a lie.

They would be there at home waiting for him. What would the girl have told them? Most likely she hadn’t told them anything. They might think something had happened between him and the girl, but if they thought that then what they thought would be wrong – mostly at least. Sooner or later he would have to face them. He put the cigarette almost finished to his lips and held it there as he started the engine. Took a last hard drag and threw it out the window. No, he might stop at the churchyard first, just up there beyond the Green. Park before it, go in the wooden gate to where the grass had been freshly mown about the graves. See his father’s name there on the stone.

He didn’t know what difference it made. He already knew that a steady man was not steady. He had known that since he was a boy. A big steady man could disappear in a puff of smoke. Ever since he’d known that, his father’s death had been more important than his father’s life, than whoever, whatever, his father had been. So, if the manner of his death was different, what had changed? If the past changed, did that change the present? There was the smell of mown grass, a path between dark yews that stood like raised hands against the sky. The name on the stone was the same name. He thought there was a rule in the church that suicides might not be buried on consecrated ground. Then there had been a lie here also – or a kind blind eye.