shoulder.
‘I’ll call you tonight. After I’ve talked to Helen.’
‘I’d be glad if you would.’
Walking back to the Volvo, Merrily felt choked up with doubt and uncertainty about something that was not her business. And apprehension about Sophie, about whom she harboured no doubts, no uncertainties.
As she reached the unmarked police car, another car pulled in behind it, a window gliding down.
‘You got time for a coffee, Reverend?’ Frannie Bliss said.
14
Joy to the World
I N A CHROMIUM cafe on Broad Street, Bliss was taking his filter coffee black, to match his mood. His face was sallow with freckles, his hair had been eroded beyond comb-over to the shaven stage, never totally convincing in December.
Not yet forty, looked older.
‘She wants me out,’ he said.
At barely four p.m., the day was signing off. The winter-holiday lights over the street were ice blue and sea green. No angels, no Santas, no reindeer.
‘Hang on in there, Frannie,’ Merrily said. ‘She might be up for a transfer to the Met or something.’
Bliss looked up over his bitter coffee with a bitter little smile. ‘Merrily, I meant Kirsty.’
‘Oh God.’ Merrily lowering her mug. ‘I thought you’d managed to . . . deal with things.’
‘You can only paper over the cracks so many times before the paste stops sticking and the frigging paper falls off.’
‘What about the kids? It’s . . . Christmas.’
‘Oh, Christmas
helps
. We always went to the in-laws’ farm for Christmas. Gorra lot more going for it, for kids, than a semi in Marden.’
‘That’s where they’ve gone?’
‘The farm, yeh. Only this time they won’t be coming back on Boxing Day. The house . . . the house we can flog, for less than we paid last year, or I can buy Kirsty’s half – the options were efficiently outlined for me in an email waiting on me lappie. By
wanting me out
, I meant out of her life, not necessarily off the premises, if I can buy her out. Lucky me.’
‘God, I’m so sorry, Frannie. Look, if there’s any—’
‘Got in, in good time for breakfast, she’s already buggered off. Even turned the heating off. Shut the frigging heating down! Must’ve stayed up half the night working out the details in this state of cold rage she can keep up for hours. So . . .’ Bliss leaned back on his stainless steel stool ‘. . . there goes another happy family Christmas exchanging presents round the tree, watching
Harry Potter
with the kids . . .’
Merrily said nothing. Never met Kirsty, but she could only ever imagine Bliss
half
-watching
Harry Potter
with his kids and hoping the phone would ring before the Quidditch game was into injury time.
‘I mean, you
were
right,’ he said. ‘Howe – goes without saying – would also love to be attending me farewell piss-up. Not happy that she wasn’t informed as soon as it was found.’
‘So why wasn’t she informed?’
‘Because somebody said, you know, let’s not bother her, it’s Christmas . . .’
‘
Frannie
.’
Nobody could say Bliss allowed other people to dig his grave. ‘Under normal circs, I’d be number two on this, but she’s brought her own feller over from Worcester. DI Brent, PhD. A Ph frigging
D
! What’s happening, Merrily? All these higher-educated, fast-track police persons together . . . in a school.’
‘The incident room?’
‘Taken over the school next door. Packed the kids off home. So we’ve got Howe as headmistress, Brent as deputy. Kevin Snape as school secretary, fortunately.’
‘What
are
you on about?’
‘Office manager – that’s the bloke responsible for organising the show. Kevin’s a mate, so I get to keep tabs.’ Bliss poured himself more coffee. ‘Quite like to have seen Annie’s face when she found you and Sophie in Ayling’s back parlour.’
‘She didn’t. Annie Howe doesn’t know I’ve been anywhere near Ayling’s parlour.’
Merrily explained. Giving him the edited version, Sophie’s role minimised.
‘I’ll call you tonight. After I’ve talked to Helen.’
‘I’d be glad if you would.’
Walking back to the Volvo, Merrily felt choked up with doubt and uncertainty about something that was not her business. And apprehension about Sophie, about whom she harboured no doubts, no uncertainties.
As she reached the unmarked police car, another car pulled in behind it, a window gliding down.
‘You got time for a coffee, Reverend?’ Frannie Bliss said.
14
Joy to the World
I N A CHROMIUM cafe on Broad Street, Bliss was taking his filter coffee black, to match his mood. His face was sallow with freckles, his hair had been eroded beyond comb-over to the shaven stage, never totally convincing in December.
Not yet forty, looked older.
‘She wants me out,’ he said.
At barely four p.m., the day was signing off. The winter-holiday lights over the street were ice blue and sea green. No angels, no Santas, no reindeer.
‘Hang on in there, Frannie,’ Merrily said. ‘She might be up for a transfer to the Met or something.’
Bliss looked up over his bitter coffee with a bitter little smile. ‘Merrily, I meant Kirsty.’
‘Oh God.’ Merrily lowering her mug. ‘I thought you’d managed to . . . deal with things.’
‘You can only paper over the cracks so many times before the paste stops sticking and the frigging paper falls off.’
‘What about the kids? It’s . . . Christmas.’
‘Oh, Christmas
helps
. We always went to the in-laws’ farm for Christmas. Gorra lot more going for it, for kids, than a semi in Marden.’
‘That’s where they’ve gone?’
‘The farm, yeh. Only this time they won’t be coming back on Boxing Day. The house . . . the house we can flog, for less than we paid last year, or I can buy Kirsty’s half – the options were efficiently outlined for me in an email waiting on me lappie. By
wanting me out
, I meant out of her life, not necessarily off the premises, if I can buy her out. Lucky me.’
‘God, I’m so sorry, Frannie. Look, if there’s any—’
‘Got in, in good time for breakfast, she’s already buggered off. Even turned the heating off. Shut the frigging heating down! Must’ve stayed up half the night working out the details in this state of cold rage she can keep up for hours. So . . .’ Bliss leaned back on his stainless steel stool ‘. . . there goes another happy family Christmas exchanging presents round the tree, watching
Harry Potter
with the kids . . .’
Merrily said nothing. Never met Kirsty, but she could only ever imagine Bliss
half
-watching
Harry Potter
with his kids and hoping the phone would ring before the Quidditch game was into injury time.
‘I mean, you
were
right,’ he said. ‘Howe – goes without saying – would also love to be attending me farewell piss-up. Not happy that she wasn’t informed as soon as it was found.’
‘So why wasn’t she informed?’
‘Because somebody said, you know, let’s not bother her, it’s Christmas . . .’
‘
Frannie
.’
Nobody could say Bliss allowed other people to dig his grave. ‘Under normal circs, I’d be number two on this, but she’s brought her own feller over from Worcester. DI Brent, PhD. A Ph frigging
D
! What’s happening, Merrily? All these higher-educated, fast-track police persons together . . . in a school.’
‘The incident room?’
‘Taken over the school next door. Packed the kids off home. So we’ve got Howe as headmistress, Brent as deputy. Kevin Snape as school secretary, fortunately.’
‘What
are
you on about?’
‘Office manager – that’s the bloke responsible for organising the show. Kevin’s a mate, so I get to keep tabs.’ Bliss poured himself more coffee. ‘Quite like to have seen Annie’s face when she found you and Sophie in Ayling’s back parlour.’
‘She didn’t. Annie Howe doesn’t know I’ve been anywhere near Ayling’s parlour.’
Merrily explained. Giving him the edited version, Sophie’s role minimised.
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