Lady Hawse-Gorzley patted her on the back. “Nasty shock, I know. You’ll be all right,” she said briskly. “What you need is a stiff drink.” She saw me. “Georgie dear, why don’t you take Miss Prendergast to your mother’s cottage? She shouldn’t be left alone and the police will want to talk to her when they get here.”

“All right,” I said. I took the woman’s arm. “Come along, Miss Prendergast.”

She allowed herself to be led out of the church, along the path to my mother’s cottage. I explained briefly what had happened and brought her inside. My mother had been sitting by the fire with a cup of tea. I thought she wouldn’t want a strange older woman in her cottage but she instantly switched into full Florence Nightingale mode.

“You poor dear thing. What an awful shock,” she said. “Come and sit down. Daddy, get her a glass of brandy.”

“Oh, no spirits, thank you,” she said as the glass was placed in her hands. “I rarely touch alcohol.”

“Go on, down the hatch,” Granddad said. “It’ll do you good.”

“If you insist.” She gave him a wary glance before sipping it.

“I’ll make you a nice cup of tea, love,” Mrs. Huggins said. “Your face is as white as a sheet.”

“So would yours be if you’d just found someone lying dead in the church,” Mummy said. She still had that caring smile on her face and I realized that she was playing the part because she wanted all the ghoulish details. She was finding these murders thrilling. For her it was a big game.

Miss Prendergast shuddered. “I still can’t believe it was real,” she said. “I saw him lying there and I thought he’d fallen asleep and I went to wake him and my hands were all sticky.” She held them up, showing the dried blood on them. “So awful. I warned the vicar about the state of that church. The masonry is crumbling in several places. It was only a matter of time before it fell on someone. But poor Mr. Barclay.” She looked from one face to the next, imploring us to understand what she was feeling. “I must say we didn’t get along very well. He did like his own way, you know, but I would not have wished that on anyone. And he did play the organ very well, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did,” I said.

“I feel so guilty. All those unchristian thoughts about him. Especially about the holly around the crib. And now he’s gone.”

“Here’s your tea, my ducks,” Mrs. Huggins said. “And a slice of my good plum cake. That’s what you need right now.”