turn.'
'Now we just sit here and wait for our turn in the sun again,' said Brother Bill.
'I've never heard of your organisation.'
'Not many people have,' hissed Gilbert excitedly, 'you can join if you like!'
'Why would I want to join a bunch of losers like you?'
The brotherhood looked at me sadly. Not with indignation, but with that infuriating understanding that holy men have for other people's human failings.
'Ah, Brother Louie, you're still in denial.'
'Don't give me your cheap armchair psychology,' I shouted.
'Please don't get annoyed,' said Bill. 'For a long time I was just like you.'
'Look, I'm not like you, OK? I'm a good friend of Myfanwy.' It sounded pathetic.
They exchanged glances with a mute understanding but said nothing.
'And don't look at me like that!' I had started to shout again, and to speak faster as if speed would somehow add the conviction that I now felt irresistibly seeping away. 'I'm not like you. This is all a mistake. I came late so there was no room at the front. That's why I'm sitting here; you watch, when she comes she'll come and talk to me!' I was staring around wildly now, almost challenging anyone in the brotherhood to contradict me. But all I met with was a bottomless well of compassion and understanding.
'It's all right, Louie, we understand.'
'No you don't.'
'Oh yes. It's all a mistake. Don't worry, there's no need to get upset.'
'I'm not upset!' And then aware of the passion in my voice I said again in a controlled tone, 'I'm not upset.'
'Of course. But there is one thing you should know. Myfanwy won't come back here to talk to you, the girls don't come back here.'
This time Brother Bill grabbed my arm with sudden urgency, 'But that doesn't mean you don't have a chance. Everyone has a chance.'
'Oh really!' I sneered. 'Is that what you think? Everyone has a chance, do they? Even old Brother what's-his- face over there drooling into his pint?'
They turned and looked sadly at an old man at the end of the table. He was trying desperately to follow the conversation but it was obvious his hearing wasn't good enough. Instead he sat there trembling and forcing himself to laugh when the others did.
'That's Brother Tobias, and he has as good a chance as anyone.' The warmth had left Brother Gilbert's voice now.
Brother Bill leaned across to me. 'You didn't ought to talk about the brothers like that. You didn't ought to disrespect them.'
'Well wise up and see the truth. Brother Tobias doesn't stand a chance with Myfanwy and neither do any of you.'
Brother Frank punched the table and squealed at my heresy. 'No! No! No! It's not true! Everyone has a chance!'
'Because Myfanwy is so good and pure.'
'Is that what you think, is it?' I sneered.
'I can prove it!'
'Yeah! How?' If only I hadn't asked.
Brother Frank brought his face right up to mine, his eyes moist with anger.
'Because . . . because she even went out with that crippled schoolboy!'
'Could have had any man in Wales, as well,' added Gilbert.
I sat there aware that my stomach had just dropped into my shoes. For seconds I couldn't speak, until finally I managed, 'Wh . . . what did you say?'
'The crippled schoolboy — with the bad leg. The one that died. Lovers they were.'
'You mean Dai Brainbocs?'
'Yes!' Gilbert insisted. 'Him!'
'Good God!' I said finally.
I sat unable to speak or move. Twenty minutes later Bianca walked in and told me Myfanwy was up at the hospital. Evans the Boot was dead.
Chapter 13
IT WAS RAINING heavily outside and the streets, glassy and shiny, were largely deserted as I sped down Great Darkgate Street to the hospital. My heart was racing and my mouth dry with fear; the news that Evans the Boot was dead meant nothing, but the revelation that Myfanwy and Brainbocs had been lovers was a pile-driver to the heart. At the hospital I parked as close as I could get to the main door, stepped out and walked across through the driving rain to the garishly lit entrance. A policeman stepped out of the shadows and blocked my way.
'Where you going?'
'Is there a law against visiting the hospital?'
'It's not visiting hours, come back in the morning.'
Another figure stepped out of the shadows. It was Llunos. As usual he didn't look pleased to see me.
'Your mum shag a vulture, or what?'
'What's that mean?'
'Every time I find a corpse, you turn up.'
'I could say the same for you.'
'You could but you'd need to visit the dentist after. What do you want?'
I realised there was no way Llunos was going to let me in, so I decided on a long shot — the truth. 'I need to see Myfanwy.'
I could see he was unused to dealing with it.
'What makes you think she's here?'
'Someone told me they found Evans and she's down at the morgue. I don't need to go in, my business is with her, not Evans the Boot. If you could get a message to her, to tell her I was here, I could wait over there in my car.'
The uniformed policeman started to laugh, 'Oh isn't that sweet! If we could just get a message —'
Llunos shut him up by waving an impatient hand at him. Then he looked at me, 'In your car?'
I nodded.
'OK we can do that. I'll let her know.'
I waited in the car for about half an hour, listening to the rhythmic droning of the windscreen wipers. Eventually I saw Myfanwy walking through the parked cars towards me. I flashed the lights. When she got in we were both in near-prefect darkness but even though I couldn't see, I could tell she'd been crying.
'Myfanwy -'
'Don't.'
Silence filled the car and amplified the sounds as we shifted in our seats.
'Can we just drive somewhere?'
'Where?'
'Anywhere, it doesn't matter. Please.'
I turned on the engine.
'Anywhere as long as it's away from Aberystwyth.'
The rain was driving hard, sweeping in from the sea. Outside the hospital car park I turned right, up over Penglais Hill, and on into the darkened landscape beyond. Myfanwy told me about Evans. He'd been found earlier in the day by a man walking his dog. The dog had run off to fetch a stick and returned with a finger. The body had been crudely buried under gorse bushes but little attempt had been made to conceal it. Someone had disfigured it and removed the fingerprints in the time-honoured way of immersion in a mixture of battery acid and local cheese. Police were still hopeful of a positive identification when the pathologists were finished.
We drove to the caravan. I shouldn't have revealed its location to Myfanwy but I didn't care. The park was quieter than a cemetery when we arrived, the only sound the squeaking of the Fresh Milk sign from the general
