Next of Kin Read Free Page A

courtroom and informing him whether he was to serve at his majesty’s pleasure in prison for the rest of his natural life or whether he would be taken away to another place until a time could be fixed for his execution, when he would hang from the neck until dead.
    Had Roderick broken his cardinal rule and read The Times that morning he would have found that both twenty-three-year-old men were indeed mentioned, one on the front page, and one in an indirect fashion on the seventh page where matters of society and parties and engagements and social events were gossiped over and dissected with languid humour and tedious puns. Fortunately for his blood pressure, however, he would never see either.
    The kettle began to whistle in the kitchen and Roderick snapped out of his thoughts and headed in that direction. He wanted tea, he wanted a very strong cup of tea.
    3
    â€˜THE PROBLEM IS THAT one runs out of things to say. It seems so insincere to offer the same old condolences over and over.’ This now from Mrs Sharon Rice, a widow who lived three miles east of Leyville with her son, a successful banker whose wife had left him in a scandal.
    â€˜But the alternative, my dear, is simply to ignore him and pretend that this is just another party,’ replied Mrs Marjorie Redmond, looking around at the gathered guests in their dark and sombre attire and wondering what was the significance of wearing black to a funeral. It only succeeded in making people feel even more depressed than they already were.
    â€˜I very much doubt that Owen Montignac will be hosting any parties for a long time. I don’t expect to see the inside of Leyville again this side of Christmas.’
    â€˜No, the young people never hold on to the old customs,’ said Mrs Rice with the offended sniff of one who knew that her most vicious days were behind her. ‘Of course he won’t remember the parties that used to be held here. Back in the day, I mean.’
    â€˜But do we know that it is actually his?’ asked Mrs Redmond, looking around cautiously and lowering her voice. ‘After all, he was only the nephew. By rights everything should have gone to Andrew but it’s always possible that Stella will be the beneficiary.’
    â€˜The Montignacs have always let their money inherit by the male line,’ replied Mrs Rice. ‘And Peter Montignac was a stickler for tradition. Stella will be taken care of, I have no doubt about that, but no, I imagine Owen will be a very wealthy man when the will has been read.’
    â€˜Do you think that’s what accounts for the eulogy?’
    â€˜My dear, I wanted to applaud him. There are far too many people who bottle their feelings up, if you ask me. And after all that Peter did for that boy, taking him in as he did despite what his father had done, of course he needed to say what he felt. I rather admire him, to tell you the truth.’
    *   *   *
    THE MEN AT THE billiard table debated a separate issue back and forth, trusting that they would not be disturbed by anyone as they competed against each other. One of their number, a young man named Alexander Keys who had been to Eton with Montignac, had wanted to ask permission of their host before playing as he felt it might be considered inappropriate during a day of mourning, but their host was nowhere to be found and so they had begun anyway and agreed on only a small wager, just to keep things interesting.
    â€˜Keep that door closed,’ suggested one.
    â€˜So we’re agreed then?’ asked Thomas Handel, lining up a shot. ‘The man should be allowed to do as he pleases?’
    Alexander snorted. ‘I don’t see that we are in agreement. You believe that it’s no one’s business but his own, I don’t. There’s such a thing as duty, you know.’
    â€˜Glad to hear you say that,’ said an older man, leaning on his cue for support. ‘Too many of you young fellows