’ She didn’t smile, and I didn’t smile back. ‘Fuck.’ I smiled this time. The universal epithet. Useful in many situations. Her face was pin... and eyes teary. I led her up my steps and opened the door. ‘This isn’t a restaurant.’ ‘You are not fit for public consumption. Sit on the sofa. I will order takeout.’ I phoned the order and decided some gin was indicated for therapeutic purposes. Packaged with tonic and lime. I sat next to her and handed over the glass. ‘This is medicine. Drink deeply.’. The members of the church congregation were very good to her in her last months, and Mr. Price and Father Newenham gave her the most beautiful funeral. After she died I had no use for God or his minions for quite some time. It is partly in gratitude for the congregation members’ efforts and partly in pure spite at my treatment by the incumbent priest, who calls herself the Reverend Martha Strong and lives, I understand ‘in sin’, with a Miss Jennifer Carpenter in the vicarage. She went out of. More

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