Dreaming of the Bones

handkerchief to her lips with one trembling hand and made no attempt to speak.
    Into the silence, Kit said with the certainty of desperation, ”I wish I were dead.”
    ”Christopher!” Eugenia wailed. ”Have you no respect—”
    ”Eugenia,” said Rosemary quietly as she stepped forwards. ”I was so sorry to hear about Victoria . This must be very difficult for you.”
    ”You don’t know the meaning of difficult, Rosemary Kincaid. If you’d lost your only child—”
    ”I’d like to meet your grandson,” continued Rosemary, cutting her off in midsentence. She held out a hand to Kit. ”Hullo, Kit. I’m Rosemary, Duncan’s mother. Let’s see”— she tilted her head and examined him—”you must be... what? Twelve? Thirteen?”
    ”Eleven,” Kit answered with a spark of interest, and pulled himself up a bit.
    ”And what do you play at school? Rugger? Football?”
    ”Football,” he admitted, with an anxious glance at his grandmother.
    ”I thought so.” Rosemary smiled. ”You look a bit like...” She turned to the men in appeal, and Gemma knew she hadn’t a clue. ”What’s the chap’s name who plays for Manchester United?”
    ”I feel ill, Robert,” interrupted Eugenia. ”Please take us home this instant.” She sagged a bit, and Kit winced as she gripped his arm for support.
    ”Of course, dear,” said Bob Potts. ”Perhaps you should wait while I fetch the car—”
    ”I’d like a word with Kit before you go, if you don’t mind,” said Kincaid. ”It’s rather impor—”
    ”I feel ill,” said Eugenia, fanning herself with the Order of Service she held in her hand. ”Robert!” She started unsteadily down the drive, her hand still gripping Kit’s arm.
    ”I’m so sorry,” said Bob Potts, shrugging apologetically. ”But I’m afraid we must go. She really is not at all well.” He started after his wife, then turned back once more. ”So sorry,” he repeated. ”It was good to see you, Rosemary. Give my regards to Hugh. And... thank you.”
    The little group in the churchyard watched as he caught up to Eugenia and Kit and helped them into the car, and still no one spoke as the car pulled out into the High and disappeared round the bend.
    Then Kincaid said quietly, ”His name really is Bob, you know. He told me once. Just plain Bob, but she insists on calling him Robert.”

    ”God, what a farce,” said Rosemary Kincaid, glancing at her son’s composed face as she lowered herself into the sling of the canvas deck chair. ”That sort of thing is distressing enough without any added pyrotechnics.” She had insisted on taking Duncan and Gemma to tea at the Orchard, on the grounds that they all needed fortification after their ordeal, and that she had no intention of setting off for her sister’s in Bedford without a much anticipated visit with Duncan .
    After a quick glance at the menu, she said, ”Let’s go the whole hog, why don’t we? Pots of tea and sandwiches and scones and cake.”
    ”Comfort food?” said Duncan with a smile. ”Or has Dad been nagging you to eat again?”
    ”I’d say a good dose of comfort with a dollop of nostalgia would fit the bill nicely. ‘Yet stands the Church clock at ten to three? And is there honey still for tea?’ ” she quoted.
    ”There is,” said Gemma. ”Honestly. I saw it on the menu.”
    ”Then I’ll go and put the order in at the window, honey included,” said Duncan , and scrambled up out of the chair.
    Rosemary watched his long-limbed stride as he walked away, then focused on the young woman across from her with frank curiosity. Beautiful? Well, perhaps not in the strictly classical sense, she thought, but certainly very attractive, with the sun glinting from her burnished copper hair and her open, friendly face alight with intelligence.
    They worked together, Rosemary knew, but Duncan had mentioned her more and more frequently in the past year, and when he’d come home at Christmas she’d sensed a definite change in the status of the relationship. ”You’ve been good for him, you know,” she said, and saw Gemma color slightly. ”These last few months he’s seemed more relaxed than I’ve seen him in—well, I suppose since he was a child.”
    ”You were going to say, ‘Since he was married to Vic,’ weren’t you?” asked Gemma.
    ”Yes. But I realized it’s not true.” Rosemary glanced at Duncan , standing in the tea queue, hands in trouser pockets. ”He was very intense about work then—he’d