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I can remember the scene at Richard’s funeral as if it were yesterday. Jonah accosted me at the reception in the church hall after the service and asked me to introduce him to the widow. I tried to make conversation, which wasn’t that hard because it turned out he knew nothing at all about Bernie. I explained to him that she hadn’t taken Richard’s name when she married, so she was still Dr Bernadette Fazakerley. I think I was rather pleased to be able to say Dr Fazakerley because it showed Jonah that Richard’s wife wasn’t just anyone, by which I suppose I mean that she was a good as Jonah’s wife, Margaret!
I can remember the exchange that Bernie had with Jonah word-for-word. I introduced him very formally – trying to distance myself from him and not give any indication that he had enjoyed any sort of special relationship with Richard. At first, Bernie replied equally formally.
‘Pleased to meet you.’ She said politely. ‘It’s amazing how many of Richard’s colleagues have come to see him off. I had no idea he was so popular.’
‘I owe him a lot. He took me on when I first joined the CID. He taught me all I know.’
That’s probably the point at which Bernie recognised the name – Jonah isn’t one that you come across every day – and started to remember Richard talking about him. I suppose he must have told her than one of his protégés had pulled off a coup recently and she saw it as an opportunity to move the conversation on from eulogising Richard and condoling his widow.
‘I doubt that,’ she said to him. ‘Aren’t you the officer who was responsible for clearing up that big fraud case? Richard would never have been any good with something like that – his command of even simple arithmetic was absolutely dire. A bent banker would easily have been able to run rings around him. What was the banker’s name? It was something odd, I know – something weird and Welsh.’
‘Merlin Price-Davies,’ Jonah stammered out at last, after gathering his thoughts. That may well have been the first time I’ve seen him taken aback in a conversation. Trust Bernie to be capable of wrong-footing even the most self-possessed.
‘That’s the one,’ she said, smiling. ‘It makes you expect someone in a druid costume with long hair and a beard, but he turned out to be just some banker in a pinstriped suit who’s probably never been out of the Home Counties. I gather it was quite a coup to get a conviction. You will obviously go far.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ Jonah gave that annoying self-deprecating laugh that I always hated so much when we worked together. ‘It wasn’t all down to me. Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about my achievements. I wanted to tell you how sorry I was to hear about Richard’s death and to say how much I owe to him.’
‘And to see what sort of woman would marry him after all these years?’ Bernie suggested – and I think I caught a wicked gleam in her eye as she said it.
‘Since you mention it – I confess I was curious to meet you. Richard had been such a very confirmed bachelor – very much married to the job – and we were all rather taken aback to hear that he’d taken the plunge into matrimony at what you have to admit was a fairly advanced age. I mean – it would have to be someone rather special.’
Bernie never did take kindly to flattery, so she wasn’t going to let him get away with that.
‘Or maybe he was just desperate to ensure that he would be cared for in his declining years,’ she suggested, deadpan.
‘I’m quite sure that was not even a part of his considerations.’ She had Jonah on the run now alright.
‘You’re probably right. He was generally quite astute, and if that had been his aim, I’m sure that he could have found someone more suited to the role. I make no pretence of having a caring or sympathetic nature. So, if you are wondering why he married me, join the club – I certainly wouldn’t have been foolish enough to sign up to living with me on a permanent basis!’
I couldn’t help being amused at Jonah’s discomfiture. He clearly didn’t know how to follow this. ‘Someone told me you were a don,’ he said in the end, desperately trying to keep the conversation going.
‘That’s right,’ Bernie nodded, magnanimously giving him a breather in the conversational sparring match. ‘I’m Applied Mathematics Fellow at St Luke’s College.’
‘It must be the busiest time of the year for you, with all the new students starting. I hope you’re allowed some time off, under the circumstances.’
‘Well done! You didn’t say it. I’m impressed.’
‘Say what?’
‘Usually at this point in the conversation, people give a little laugh and say, “I was never any good at Maths at school.” And then they start looking for an opportunity to get away and talk to someone more interesting.’
‘Ah! But I was always very good at Maths at school.’
I could see that they were hitting it off. Jonah and Bernie shared a lot of the same sense of humour and that must have started to come across even during this short acquaintance. I suppose I rather resented the way Jonah seemed to be making friends so easily with Bernie, when it had taken Angie and me so many years to break down the carapace that she’d erected in the immediate aftermath of Stephen’s death. I couldn’t help trying to take him down a peg.
‘And at everything else, I’m sure,’ I said, ‘and doesn’t he know it!’
‘I must say,’ Jonah went on, ignoring me, ‘you aren’t my idea of a typical Oxford don.’
‘You mean,’ grinned Bernie, ‘I don’t sound as if I went to Roedean or Cheltenham Ladies College, and you’re wondering how I ever came to be allowed into the Oxbridge establishment. Richard always used to say–’
Then she stopped short and we realised that she was staring at something on the other side of the hall, near the door.
‘Look, I’m sorry, “she apologised hastily, “Richard’s mother is just leaving. I must see her off. Thank you for coming. Maybe we can speak again later.’
I saw Jonah watching her as she hurried off cross the room, weaving between the guests with mutters of apology. I decided to finish off the well-worn stry that Bernie had been about to tell.
‘Richard always used to say that when she was interviewed for her fellowship the panel asked at the end, “and now do you have any questions for us?” and she said, “Are youse giving me this job or what?” and none of them had the courage to say “no”!’
I don’t suppose my attempt at a Liverpool accent was as amusing as it was intended to be. In any case, I’m not sure that Jonah was listening to me. He was more concerned with watching Bernie. Eventually he realised that I’d been speaking to him and he turned back to face me.
‘How is she, d’you think?’ he asked ‘No tears. Putting a brave face on it d’you reckon?’
I was stung by the implication that perhaps Bernie wasn’t all that sorry about Richard’s death after all.
‘Our Bernie doesn’t show her emotions,’ I told him sharply, ‘but don’t think for a moment she doesn’t feel Richard’s death very much.’ I saw Jonah’s surprised look and tried to think of something to tone down what I’d said and explain the situation more. ‘She and Angela are very close – I think that’s what’s keeping her going at the moment, and of course she’s been keeping busy with the funeral and everything.’
‘Angela?’ Jonah didn’t seem to recognise the name.
‘My wife.’
‘Of course! I remember now.’ Jonah seemed to be glad to be on safe ground again. ‘And what about the children – you had two, didn’t you – a boy and a girl?’
‘Hannah’s at university studying to be a nurse and Edward’s in lower sixth.’ I think we were probably both relieved to be able to fall back on the routine of catching up on one another’s family news. I gabbled on, without thinking, just pleased to have something to say. ‘We were afraid that he was going off the rails, but Bernie took an interest in him and persuaded him that he could indulge in his obsession with computers by doing a computer science degree. He finally knuckled down and actually did quite well in his GCSEs after all, which is a great relief to us all. I must say I don’t envy Bernie having it all still to come – and on her own too.’
‘What do you mean?’ Jonah jumped on my throw-away remark. ‘She and Richard didn’t have any kids, did they?’
Too late, I realised that I had probably said more than I ought to have done – certainly a lot more than I intended to say. Jonah seems to have inherited Richard’s knack of getting people to talk without the need of actually questioning them.
‘Not yet,’ I agreed. Then I lowered my voice so as not to broadcast what I was regretting having inadvertently revealed. ‘I don’t think I ought to be telling you this, but having said so much I’d better. Bernie’s expecting.’
Jonah said nothing. He just looked at me as if he knew that there was more to come. I managed to keep silent for maybe half a minute and then I gave in.
‘The thing is,’ I went on, she didn’t tell Richard before he died, and now she’s racked with guilt. She didn’t know how he would take it, you see. I don’t think either of them had thought about the possibility, what with her just turned forty and him, well...’
‘Getting on for sixty, I suppose.’ Jonah looked thoughtful. Then he took my arm and moved closer, so that he could speak in my ear. ‘Let me know when the baby’s born – I’d like to … send a card or something.’
Well, I could hardly say no, could I? And having agreed, I felt honour bound to go through with it. So, about six months later, I dropped Jonah a line in an email to let him know about Lucy’s arrival.