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‘Well, that was rather well done,’ said Sean. ‘A very dramatic ending. What an excellent story, Tabitha. I’m most impressed.’

‘Heavens, Nicky could break glass with that scream,’ Tabitha said with a shudder. The screaming had gone on a bit even after the house lights went up, which was rather too long for Julia’s taste. It was probably one of those modern drama things, like breaking the fourth wall or whatever it was called.

‘Shall we have a quick one at the Topsy Turnip before we go home?’ Julia said, turning to her companions, as they gathered their coats and bags .

‘I’d be up for that,’ Tabitha said.

‘Good idea,’ said Sean, looking at his watch. ‘It’s early yet.’

‘Attention!’ came a booming voice from the stage. It was Roger Grave, standing in front of the curtains looking very – well, grave. ‘Is there a doctor in the house?’

Everyone in Berrywick knew that Sean O’Connor was a doctor, and the people standing around near them turned to him expectantly. He was already on his feet, his face serious. Julia stood to let him pass. ‘Coming through,’ he said, briskly, pushing his way into the aisle.

‘Clear the aisle! Move to the back exit,’ shouted Roger from the stage. He was clearly agitated. ‘Let Dr O’Connor through!’

The audience pushed and squeezed out of Sean’s path, some scurrying to the rear of the hall. The few who couldn’t get out of the way stood to the sides of the aisle.

‘Oh, I hope this doesn’t slow Graham down. He promised he’d be right out. We have things to talk about,’ Jane said, as much to herself as to anyone, before fully taking on the broader issue at hand. ‘I mean, I hope everyone’s all right. It sounds like somebody has had a bad turn. I wonder who…Goodness, you don’t think it’s him, do you?’

Julia turned to address her in the row behind. Jane was short and plump, with warm brown eyes that reminded Julia rather of a woodland animal. ‘It’s all right, Jane. Whoever it is, it’s probably just the heat.’

‘Or the nerves. You know, being on stage and all,’ said Tabitha. ‘Or a sprained ankle, or something.’

Sean had reached the stage now and was ascending the steps.

The hall was clearing rapidly. Julia, Tabitha and Jane were some of the last left. ‘I’m going to go up and find Graham,’ said Jane.

‘I’ll come with you.’ Julia rather surprised herself when she said it. She wasn’t sure why she felt she had to go. Nonetheless, she took Jane’s arm and the two women walked together towards the stage, Tabitha following close behind. As they approached the stage, hands yanked the stage curtains apart to admit Sean, and there was no mistaking what Julia saw in that brief moment. There was someone lying on the stage, just the midsection of his torso visible, a glimpse of a midnight-blue velvet jacket. An arm lying limp on the floor. A pale hand showing from the blue velvet sleeve. Graham.

Hands yanked the curtains shut, but it was too late. Jane had seen what Julia had seen. Jane’s legs seemed to give way and Julia only just kept her upright long enough to stagger to the steps leading up to the stage and sit her down.

‘Is he all right?’ Jane asked Julia quietly, her brown eyes wide and glistening, her expression one of confusion. ‘He must be all right. We need to go home now. Please tell Sean to get him up. He must stop this nonsense. We must be going. We need to…’

‘I’ll go and speak to Sean. Stay here with Tabitha.’

Tabitha sat down next to Jane and put her arm around the woman’s shaking shoulders. Julia went up the steps and opened the curtains just a crack, not wanting to expose Jane to another sighting of her husband. Sean wasn’t working on Graham’s body. There was no CPR, no pulse-taking that would help him now. He was clearly beyond all that. A ragged hole gaped in his chest, below the spotted cravat. The front of his blue velvet jacket was purple with blood. More blood seeped from under him, spreading slowly over the floorboards.

Oscar looked as if he might be the next to expire, so pale was he. The pistol was still in his hand, hanging limply at his side. Roger Grave approached him, saying, ‘I’m going to take the gun. Slowly now, don’t move. Keep it pointed at the floor.’ He reached out his right hand.

‘What happened…?It can’t…It’s only a prop…It wasn’t loaded. I mean, I couldn’t. It…’

‘All right then, steady on. I’m taking the gun.’ Roger Grave moved gently, slowly, as one would when approaching a skittish and dangerous animal. His voice was low. He gently took the pistol from Oscar’s hand.

Julia turned and looked back at Jane, who was waiting quietly with Tabitha, and stepped through the curtains onto the set. Sean was standing on the other side of Graham’s body, a mobile phone to his ear. He caught her eye, as he spoke into the phone: ‘…the village hall, on Main Street. Yes…Coroner, forensics. The whole lot, I imagine. I’ll tell them. Thank you. ’

Sean turned to Roger. ‘I’ve phoned the Berrywick police. I thought, under the circumstances…I explained what happened. The accident. They are going to send a detective. And a van. And forensics.’

There was a moment of stunned silence in which everyone seemed suspended in shock and disbelief.

Julia broke the silence, addressing Roger: ‘Graham’s wife, Jane. She’s here, she was in the audience. She is waiting for news.’

‘There’s been an accident,’ Roger said, blankly. ‘A terrible accident.’

‘I see. And Jane…Can you…? Someone needs to tell her.’ Julia motioned to the curtain, behind which was Jane.

Roger looked about a hundred years old. His artsy outfit and boyishly tousled hair contrasted starkly with his grey, lined face. ‘Right,’ he said, slowly. A man who was seldom at a loss for words or self-confidence, Roger Grave seemed unsure of himself. Julia felt for him, knowing he was about to perform one of the hardest tasks there is – break the news of a loved-one’s demise. ‘Nobody move, nobody touch anything. I’ll go and speak to her,’ Roger said again, still not making any move in that direction.

‘Hello?’ came Jane’s voice. She had mounted the steps at the side of the stage and was calling at the curtain. ‘Julia, what did Sean say? What’s happening?’

Roger bounded to the curtain and stopped. ‘Julia, can you come with me? You know her better. It might be better if you are with me when we break the news.’

Jane and Julia did attend book club together, and although they liked each other, they weren’t particular friends outside of the club. Jane was one of those people who didn’t socialise much outside of her family. Julia did not want any part of giving her the news of her husband’s death. She looked around hopefully, as if a more suitable candidate might appear .

‘Please,’ Roger said. She sighed, nodded, and took a step towards him.

He pulled the curtain apart enough for her to slip through, and then followed her, pulling the two sides of the curtain firmly closed behind him to keep Jane from seeing the grisly scene on stage.

Roger stood silent for a long minute. He swallowed hard. Jane stood with her head to the side, waiting for Roger to speak. Just as Julia had the awful thought that he was waiting for her to break the news to Graham’s widow, he spoke, in a formal tone. ‘Mrs Powell, I’m sorry to inform you that there’s been an accident. Your husband…your husband has been shot. Dr O’Connor is…’

Jane paled. ‘Shot? Where? How? Is the ambulance on the?—’

Jane’s question went unfinished, interrupted by the crash of the large wooden doors to the hall opening loudly, and closing hard, followed by the sound of footsteps. Detective Inspector Hayley Gibson came down the aisle between the rows of seats, with Detective Constable Walter Farmer following close behind. Julia caught sight of Tabitha at the side of the stage. Her red beret, which had looked so fun and fetching earlier that evening, looked inappropriately jolly, quite ridiculous in fact, in light of current events.

‘Superintendent Grave,’ Hayley said, nodding in his direction as she reached the stage. ‘I believe you were on the scene. Can you brief me on the situation?’

Roger looked at Jane and back at Hayley. ‘I’m afraid I can’t really give you that information right now.’

Hayley Gibson straightened to her full height, which was almost a foot shorter than that of Roger. Nonetheless, she somehow gave the impression of staring the older, taller, more senior man down. ‘The Berrywick police have responsibility here, as I’m sure you are aware. You are required to cooperate with the local police in this matter. ’

Roger continued, ‘I take your point, DI Gibson, but I must insist that we discuss the matter in a private place.’

Hayley responded in a clipped tone. ‘No buts, and no insisting. I understand that you are the senior officer on the scene, but this is our jurisdiction.’

Hayley was clearly poised for a showdown. She didn’t much care for Roger Grave at the best of times, and the best of times this wasn’t. Julia realised what was happening. Roger didn’t want to speak about the accident in front of Jane, who did not yet know that her husband was dead. Not aware that Jane was the victim’s wife, Hayley assumed Roger to be pulling rank and trying to take over.

‘Now. Take me to the…’

‘Hayley!’ Julia had to stop the DI before the word ‘body’ came out of her mouth. ‘Perhaps a word?’

Hayley turned to Julia, scowling at the interruption. Julia widened her eyes and gave her The Look. Hayley paused, then held up her index finger to Roger. ‘One moment.’

She turned towards Julia and the two women took a few steps away from the others. ‘What is it?’

Julia lowered her voice. ‘The body is Graham Powell. He is dead. That’s his wife, Jane. She doesn’t know yet. She knows there was an accident, but she doesn’t know it was fatal.’

‘Damn.’

‘Yes.’

Hayley’s sigh held all the tragedy of the world, and the weight of her chosen career path – a choice that she sounded like she might regret at this precise moment. She turned back to tell Jane the terrible news.

As it happened, this was not required. Tired of waiting, Jane stepped through the stage curtains. The high-pitched wail and the thump that followed, shaking the boards, told them that Jane had seen for herself.