Strangeways to Oldham by Andrea Frazer

Moody man should be here, not us!’
    â€˜Who the hell is “that moody man”?’ asked Hugo, a little tetchily.
    â€˜That policeman – Inspector Moody. If only he’d listened to me instead of humiliating me, he could be sitting in the church now, about to pounce on the villain.’
    In uncharacteristically demotic mode, Hugo hissed back, ‘Can it, sweetheart! It’s all about to go off!’
    The service itself was short and swift, and started with a couple of verses of ‘For Those in Peril on the Sea’. ‘Reggie wasn’t a sailor, was he?’ whispered Hugo, behind his hand.
    â€˜Not to my knowledge. I know he was passed unfit for service during the war, and I never heard of him having a boat of any kind.’
    The eulogy was short and evidently delivered by a clergyman who had never met the dear departed. Both Lady Amanda and Hugo were surprised that the man they had dubbed the faux nephew hadn’t risen to speak, but, on more considered thought, realised he probably knew very little about Reggie, being a fake.
    Two verses of ‘The Day Thou Gavest Lord is Over’ finished the swiftest funeral that either one of them had ever been to, and the undertaker’s men came in, to ferry the coffin to the graveside.
    They made a very sad and sorry bunch – the few of them that there were – standing in the pouring rain and getting soaked to the skin – as the coffin was lowered into the ground, and the clergyman began to say the words of the service of committal. When the time came for someone to throw in a handful of earth, they all looked round at each other, Lady Amanda finally removing her gloves and picking up a handful of almost liquid mud, before pouring it into the grave, to dribble across the coffin, like the trail of a brown snail.
    The man in the black hat blushed with embarrassment, and reluctantly copied her action, as did Hugo, as a mark of respect for the departed. The vicar made the sign of the cross, and they all looked around to see who would be the first to leave.
    As it happened, it was the man who had sat at the front and claimed to be related to Reggie who scuttled off first, but that was no problem, as there was to be a wake – a very small one, by the looks of it – afterwards, and all Lady Amanda and Hugo had to do was to get Beauchamp to follow the car of Reggie’s ex-neighbours, to their unknown destination.
    â€˜Actually, I think it would be better to follow young Mr Williams. The neighbours might not be going back to wherever it is – it could be the young man’s house. I hope it is, because then we will at least know where he lives. But, if we follow young Mr Williams, we know he’ll be going back afterwards, because he’s arranged to read the will, after the – the – whatever it turns out to be.
    â€˜I don’t expect a champagne reception, but a cup of tea and a slice of cake, or a ham sandwich would go down well. It’s getting on for lunchtime, or will be by the time we’ve all gathered there, and I shall, no doubt, be ravenous.’
    â€˜Typical Manda!’ commented Hugo. ‘You always did put your stomach first!’
    â€˜Anyway, I’ve got a thirst on, after all that singing!’
    â€˜Pathetic, wasn’t it?’ Hugo asked, looking round at her for a response.
    â€˜It certainly was: a sad and pathetic end to a man’s life, and if there’s nothing more we can do about it, we’ll at least expose the person who caused him to be planted in the ground today.’
    â€˜Oh, damn and blast it!’ exclaimed Lady Amanda, as the car in front of them turned into the drive of Reggie’s old house in The Butts. ‘How are we ever going to find out where this cove lives, if he holds the wake at Reggie’s old house?’
    â€˜Haven’t the faintest idea, old thing, but