She heard the rats scattering across the stone as dirt fell into the crypt. Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat. Pretty good stuff, some of it. Could you just let me in? I have a surprise for him. He was a little impressed by Ann Veronica’s metaphor of the string, which, indeed, she owed to Hetty Widgett. ’ ‘Gracious heaven, Gerald! If your dear mama could not drag you to the altar, I am hardly likely to succeed. He had found her in a communicative mood, and he used the accumulated skill of years in turning that to account.
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