Will settled his weight in the saddle and considered the route home. Motorway around Southampton to Winchester, A34 north. He’d come off near Kings Worthy, country lanes to Barton Stacey, down the hill and over the bridge on the Test by the trout farm, then on home to Longparish. Momentarily he pondered whether to take the A34 all the way, to Tufton, then Whitchurch. But that was an accident black spot, with reckless local traffic on a Saturday. No—the back lanes reminded him that England had beauties of her own alongside the sunflowers and poppies of Tuscany, the lavender swathes of Provence, and the farms and pargeted buildings of the Pays d’Auge. There’d certainly be fog along the river at this time of the year, lying all along the valleys until the sun had a chance to burn it off. Which it would—in the next few hours. Unexpectedly he felt homesick; he was longing to see his father and his nephew and hug them, and to have some quality time with Alex in an hour or so. Then they could all enjoy a drink at the pub later over lunch. What the hell, he decided. Taking the scenic route meant he could burn some gas and the law wouldn’t bother him. There was a cow crossing before home, but he was in no hurry. God knew what time Alex would be arriving, though—perhaps not until later in the day. Will let out a soundless sigh, knowing he could do with someone there to soften the dynamic with his father.

He pulled up quite suddenly, and tried his brother’s cell phone once again. “Sandy, where in the world are you? It’s Saturday, for God’s sake. Did you get called in late for an emergency? You’re still on shift, I suppose, as your phone’s switched off. I’ve left messages everywhere.” Will felt a wave of disappointment. As he thought about the unanswered calls and texts he realized Alex was probably stuck at the hospital, and he was impatient to talk to him. He tried not to sound too demanding. “I’m heading for The Chantry now—Dad hasn’t answered, but he might not be up or he’s gone for the papers. Can we meet at the pub on our own for a while later? You won’t believe what I’ve got to tell you, but I can’t say in front of Dad. Please come down today; I need your mind alone. And, if not today…” He stopped, not wanting to explore that option. “Please, ring me, would you, when you get this?” Then, almost as an afterthought, “Do you know where Mum’s Bible is? The really old one? OK, later.”