Dreaming of the Bones

feel comfortable in an Anglican service, but with Kincaid’s helpful cues she managed to keep up, and discovered that she found the impersonal ritual surprisingly comforting. She let the words and the music wash over her as she gazed at the faces round her, wondering who these people were and what they had meant to Vic. And what Vic had meant to them, she thought as she cast a covert glance at Kincaid’s shuttered face. No public display of emotion would reveal his grief to the casual onlooker.
    The service ended, the congregation rose as the processional passed, then filed slowly out into the sun.
    Gemma, Kincaid, and his mother were among the first to reach the porch. Kincaid thanked the vicar, then guided them a little ways away, where they stood watching the uncertain milling of the mourners. ”They don’t quite know what to do with themselves,” Kincaid said. ”There’s no reception organized, but they don’t feel they should just walk away.”
    ”It’s all very odd. I’m surprised her parents didn’t lay on something,” Rosemary commented in a tone of mild censure. ”I’d not have expected Eugenia to give up an opportunity to do the right thing, or the chance of an audience.” She made a rueful face. ”Oh, dear, I suppose I shouldn’t have said that.”
    Kincaid smiled. ”You are a darling. And you’re quite right—I thought exactly the same thing.”
    ”Well, I must speak to them,” said Rosemary’, but without much enthusiasm.
    ”I’d like a word with Kit…” began Kincaid, then smiled at the woman coming towards them from the shadow of the porch. About Vic’s age, thought Gemma, with chin-length brown hair and a pleasant face. The woman beamed at Kincaid as if she’d spotted a long-lost brother.
    ”Such a relief to have got through it,” she said as she joined them, and on closer inspection Gemma saw the smudged mascara and the slight trembling of her lips.
    Much to Gemma’s surprise, Kincaid took the woman’s hand in his and patted it as he introduced her. ”This is Laura Miller, the secretary of Vic’s department. My mother, Rosemary Kincaid, and this is Gemma James.”
    He’d introduced Gemma to Rosemary just as simply, without reference to rank or their professional association, and Gemma felt a bit exposed without the usual camouflage.
    ”I’m sorry if I’m a bit wobbly,” said Laura when Kincaid had released her hand. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her face. ”But I’ve just been cut absolutely dead by Eugenia Potts, of all the absurd things. She wouldn’t even let me speak to Kit—I only meant to tell him that all his friends at school were asking after him. Whatever is the matter with the woman?”
    Kincaid exchanged a glance with his mother. ”I don’t know. She is behaving rather strangely, even for Eugenia. Where are they?”
    ”Still inside. Iris was determined to pay her condolences. I wish her luck.” Laura frowned. ”Iris doesn’t need anything else to upset her just now, as badly as—” She paused, gazing past Gemma’s shoulder. ”Oh, look, here they come now.”
    Turning, Gemma saw a heavyset older woman plowing determinedly towards them, with a smaller, fluffier woman fluttering along in her wake.
    ”Who’s the friend?” Kincaid asked softly.
    ”That’s Enid, Iris’s... um, companion,” Laura said under her breath, then the two women were upon them and introductions were performed all round again.
    Iris Winslow, like Laura, expressed great pleasure upon seeing Kincaid. ”I am glad you could come,” she said, and added, with a dark glance at Enid , ” I thought it a perfectly suitable service, whatever anyone else might say. And I think Vic would have approved, which is the main thing, isn’t it? She was never one for a fuss.”
    Enid pursed her lips and made clicking sounds of agreement.
    Kincaid gave a groan of exasperation. ”Don’t tell me her mother’s finding fault with poor Father Denny.”
    ”I’m afraid so,” said the tall, thin man in clerical garb who had stepped quietly up to join them. ”But I think he’s quite capable of dealing with it.” He smiled, and Gemma was immediately charmed. This, she learned a moment later, was Adam Lamb, and Iris seemed almost as pleased at his appearance as she had Kincaid’s.
    As Gemma listened to the snippets of conversation, she began to place these people in relation to Vic. Iris Winslow, it seemed, had been her boss, and Darcy Eliot, the large man in