N ightingale was surprised to find the office door unlocked when he arrived on Wednesday morning, and was even more surprised to find Jenny sitting at her desk. ‘I didn’t think you were coming in until the New Year,’ he said.
‘I was bored at home,’ she said. ‘And I wanted an early start on your receipts for the taxman.’
He looked at her computer screen and smiled. ‘And to play on Facebook,’ he said.
‘I’m checking Bronwyn’s Facebook page,’ she said.
‘Sixteen people I’ve never heard of want to be my friends,’ she said.
‘It’s your sunny disposition,’ he said, sitting down on the edge of her desk. ‘Are you okay?’
Jenny shrugged. ‘I’m confused more than anything. About what happened to Lachie. About what happened to you. The whole thing.’
‘You’re probably in shock, you know that?’
‘Post traumatic stress disorder, is that what you mean? I’m fine, Jack.’
‘Do you want to talk about it?’
She laughed. ‘To you? And that would help me how?’
‘I was going to suggest you talk it through with Barbara.’
Jenny sighed. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ she said. ‘But I can’t tell her everything, can I? She’ll think I’m crazy.’
‘What happened to Lachie, you could talk that through with her.’ He held up his hands. ‘It was just a thought. But whatever you decide, let me know when Lachie’s funeral is. I’d like to go.’
‘Okay. And, speaking of funerals, I had a phone call from someone telling me that your aunt and uncle’s funeral is this afternoon.’ She gave him a piece of paper on which she’d written the name of a church.
‘It was a woman. She didn’t say. I assumed she was from the undertakers. She had all the details.’
Nightingale looked at the note and nodded. ‘It’s the church where my parents are buried,’ he said. ‘Up in Manchester.’
‘Are you going?’
‘It’s a bit short notice,’ he said, looking at his watch. ‘And they say it’s going to snow. I don’t fancy driving the MGB in the snow.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ she said. ‘We can take the Audi. They’re your aunt and uncle, Jack. You should be there.’
He looked at the note again. ‘We’ll have to leave in a couple of hours to get there in time.’
‘No problem,’ said Jenny. ‘There’s not much work on.’ She gestured at her computer. ‘And Caernarfon Craig’s gone quiet.’
Nightingale rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘A visit to a church couldn’t hurt, could it?’