As he dressed, Pearly considered how quickly the world had closed the gap left by the death of Rob Prendergast. It would be like that when he went: people would talk briefly about him at the funeral and listen to others talk about him, and then, apart from the inner family, they would resume the focus on their own lives completely, worry about their own health, grapple with the exigencies of their occupations, go off in search of pleasant company and relaxation as he was going off to the Sissonses. Very few of the dead are able to compete with the living for attention.

The Sissonses weren’t local people but Aucklanders who had shifted south in retirement to be closer to a daughter and her family and also to their holiday home in Queenstown, although that was still a lengthy drive away. They were wealthy, as was to be expected in the circumstances, but less usual was the wife being responsible. Pearly had told Helen that probably she’d been an investment banker. He wasn’t sure what investment bankers did but considered it an occupation that led inevitably to heaps of money without a great deal of effort. He was wrong in his initial guess at Rachel Sissons’s career but held nevertheless to the definition of his failed choice. Rachel was a computer whizz who had created a company specialising in commercial inventory programmes. Alistair had been the house husband while their three children were growing up, and had developed skills with watercolours to such a level that he now had some reputation in the art world and received more publicity than his wife. It was one of those interesting reversals that sometimes occur in marriage, and in their case the transformation seemed beneficial. Rachel no longer had anything to prove and was pleased with her husband’s later life success; Alistair enjoyed a sense of achievement at an age that enabled him to keep it in perspective. Unlike most couples they were similar in appearance: both tall, thin, dark and with down-turned mouths that belied their good humour. In regard to conversation, however, there was distinction: he was cheerfully forthcoming, she succinct.

Since the Sissonses’ arrival, Pearly and Helen had met them several times at functions and other people’s houses but hadn’t been to their home. Helen was eager to see what money could build in their provincial town; Pearly already knew the rateable value and that the external construction was comparatively modern. ‘It’s plaster over a sort of polystyrene, I gather. I’m not so sure how it’ll wear over years,’ he told her as they drove.

‘Well, don’t say anything about that when you’re with them,’ Helen said.