John Grant sat with Rebecca two pews behind Michael and Cynthia White. He looked around the once familiar interior of St Mary’s, the church his parents had attended right up until they’d retired and moved to Clare. John still didn’t understand why his parents hadn’t retired in Burra, but he’d learnt a long time ago that questioning his father’s decisions was a pointless exercise.
Sitting in the pew across the aisle from the Whites was Sue Marshall, along with her stepson Chris and his wife and daughter, and an older woman John didn’t know but who looked like she might be Sue’s sister.
Behind the Marshalls, sat Ross Sloane and his wife. They’d aged since he’d seen them last. He guessed they’d have to be in their seventies by now. He’d never liked Mary Sloane. She’d caused him nothing but
