When the day of Brenda’s funeral followed, people were speculating about the absence of Harold.
Some of the villagers were spreading the rumour that he was in police custody still, while others were of the opinion that he had done a bunk – some were even convinced he had been spotted living it up in some South American gambling den. But as the service began, there he was in person, paying tribute to his dearly beloved wife, as he put it, with only a few scratch marks on his wrists to show where the handcuffs had been. He even managed a brave smile, acknowledging the good wishes of the departing mourners as they filed past him after the service.
But when the time for the reading of Brenda’s will came a few days later, he was back to his normal overbearing presence, finding excuses to cont
