Chapter Eleven
Brompton Parish Church
By any standards, the funeral was a somewhat quiet affair. Raymond’s parents had been killed some years previously, whilst on a safari holiday in Africa. Their remains had been returned to England and they now lay buried in a corner of the little churchyard in Brompton village.
It was known that Ray had a brother who was believed to be travelling abroad and hadn’t been seen for some years. Other than that, he had no known relatives. So there was nobody that Anne could contact to represent his family. There was no-one to read a eulogy, no celebration of his life. He was apparently a man without a past.
There was no life to celebrate.
Any friends or acquaintances Ray may have had were, as far as Anne knew, probably living in London — but she had no
