The man sipped his tea. "Hospital got me a place, hostel on Biggins Road. You know it?"

"I know it."

"Not bad. Could be worse. Could be better. So. So I got on my feet and walked a bit. Took me time. Skull splitting, leg aching. Two weeks is a long time, your muscles go. I could have walked ten miles before it happened. Often have done. But I got going. So I thought I'd have a wander out to that fair."

"What's the Jug Fair got to do with your hit-and-run?"

"Right. Nice night, got a quid or two. Thought I'd have a wander and I did, but the lights and the noise got to me, made my skull split again. I wasn't as fit as I thought so I decided to make back."

"I'm seeing stars, Matty, my head's spinning."

"Tell me about it."

"When were you run over?"

"Didn't say I was."

"Listen up, you answer straight or I'll have you for wasting the time of a senior officer."

"You?"

"Me. Now, from the beginning."

"I was in the hangar. I was having a sleep quiet like in a corner and he come over, shining the torch in my eyes, and I got up and he shone the torch about a bit and I turned round and he hit me. Got it?"

"So this was the accident."

"Terrible that. Couple of weeks in hospital and it was all a bit hazy, then I was in the hostel and I thought I needed some air, you go mad cooped up in a place like that when you've been used to living outside. So there I am. Only the fair was packed, world and his wife, and it's all flashing lights and noise, made my skull split even worse. Bad idea. So I thought, I'll get back. But thinking I'd get back and getting back was two different things. Never seen anything like it. Couldn't move. I was right at the far end of the thing. Push a bit here, push a bit there, worm your way in and out. My skull was splitting, I tell you. And it was then I saw him."

"Saw?"

"Him. And there wasn't any doubt. It was like a bit of a jigsaw slotting in, a bit more of the memory coming back. Like a light going on. When I saw him. The minute I saw him. Lots of it's still not back, there's like a black fuzzy edge all round, but that bit came up clear as clear."

He was pushing his cup round and round and focusing intently, as if trying to see the picture again in his mind.

"I know I got a knock but I'm not seeing things. I know it was half dark but he had a torch and that was it! The torch. When I saw him again at the fair, there was a light from somewhere, one of them rides or stalls that have bulbs all round, he was standing by one. It was him."

Matty Lowe looked at Whiteside in triumph.

"I need a name, I need a description. You could maybe come back in and look through some photographs, see if you recognise him."

"Don't need "em."

"So you know him?"

"No, I don't know him."

"You know his name?"

"Nope. Only I can tell you what he is. When I saw him."

Graham Whiteside sighed. "Get on with it then."

Matty Lowe got on with it. It didn't take long.

When he'd finished, Whiteside took his empty cup from him, chucked it in the bin, and saw him out of the station.

The DS went up the concrete stairs two at a time, grinning to himself. By the time he was back in CID he was laughing out loud. He needed a laugh around here just now. He was almost grateful to the dosser for having come in with his daft story. As if they didn't have enough on.

Sixty-seven.

"This is tough," Judith said, "tough on you."

Her crutches were leaning against the wall and her leg in its unwieldy plaster rested against the sink. She was peeling carrots, looking out of the window of the farmhouse onto the autumn leaves which were spinning down onto the drive. The beef was cut, the onions chopped, stock made. "Do you have any thyme and a bay leaf?"

"In the bed opposite the kitchen door. I'll get it."

"There is always a window of wonderful weather around now-quiet weather." Judith took the bunch of thyme from Cat, and lifted her hand to smell its muskiness on the stalk. "If he wants to stay here at home, he should," she said. "You know I'll help you as much as I can. And Richard of course."

"I couldn't manage without you. It's the children ..."

"Don't try and hide everything from them."

"I know."

"Sorry, Cat-that was patronising. Any parsley?"

"I'll get it."

Mephisto followed her, padding carefully between the rows and pushing his face against her outstretched hand.

"Having the nurses twice a day is brilliant, though they treat me like Chris's GP not his wife. I don't want to be his doctor, Judith. I want to talk to him as a husband and see him as a husband who is dying, not as a patient. I know I can do medical stuff if I have to, especially in the middle of the night, but I'm struggling to get them not to think of me as the doc."

"He doesn't though."

"True. You're very good at seeing things in perspective, did you know that?"

Judith laughed.

"You're very good for Dad too."

"Thanks," Judith said, pleasantly but in a tone that Cat recognised as one barring further discussion. Well, that was fine. She wasn't about to start probing. Judith was happy, the relationship seemed good, her father was less uptight. She didn't need to know any more.

They stood for a few moments-Judith leaning awkwardly against the sink, Cat in the open doorway-looking at the spinning leaves as they caught the sun.

"I want this to be over," Cat said. "I can say it to you. I want it to be over for Chris because it's terrible but I want it to be over for me. I never understood this before-patients whose family said it. They couldn't bear them to die and they couldn't wait for them to die. I understand it now. The other thing is I can't say any prayers about this-it's what I've always done and suddenly I can't."

"Doesn't matter. Let the rest of us do that for you. I think it's probably quite normal."

"I don't know what you believe ... It's not something one asks, is it?"

"What, you mean is it isn't PC?"

"Sort of."

"I'm a Catholic. Not a very conscientious Catholic but I am one. I get a bit fed up with the Pope. Still, the Pope isn't God, whatever he may believe to the contrary. Now, I need to finish this casserole."

As Cat helped Judith to sit at the kitchen table, Chris was calling and Felix had woken from his sleep.

"Give me Felix, you go to Chris," Judith said, covering the casserole against Mephisto.

As Cat went into the bedroom she knew. Chris was lying on his side facing her, his eyes closed, but when she touched him he opened them and said, "I'm so cold."

She hesitated only for a second, then she lay down beside him and pulled the quilt over them both, and moved closer, to hold him to her as well as she could. He was shivering.

"I love you," Cat said. "I love the children but I loved you first."

He coughed suddenly and took several short, rapid breaths, coughed again. "Cold."

"I know. It's cold. Winter's coming. Darling, Sam and Hannah will be back from school in a minute. Do you want them to come and see you?"

He muttered something she could not make out.

"Dad has gone to fetch them."

His limbs began to jerk spasmodically. Then they were still again. He coughed several times. Stopped coughing.

"Chris?"

"Sam?"

"Yes. Judith has made their supper."

"No."

"I know. You're not hungry."

He moved his head and cried out.

"Let me check the pump."

But he clutched on to her hard so that she did not move. His body was cold. His body was unbelievably thin. She could feel bone beneath skin. It seemed as if there were no flesh.

"Stay ... here ..."

"I will."

From the kitchen she heard Felix's chatter. Judith's calm voice. Their sudden laughter.

Tears came.

"Sam," he mumbled.

His legs jerked again. Were still. She lay holding him as the sky outside the window faded from bright to silver blue and then flared golden and red as the sun went down. Autumn, she thought. His last autumn.

They lay still together. The car came into the drive. The children ran into the house. Doors banged. Her father's voice on the stairs calling her name. Then he entered into the room quietly. She had not put the lamp on. The wall opposite her was flushed rose red in the last of the sun. Richard came over and bent down to Chris, touched his forehead, lifted his wrist gently and felt his pulse. Cat turned her head to him. He nodded.

"I'll help out downstairs," he said and went out.

After a moment, Cat asked, "Would you like to see the children for just a second?"

But Chris's arms jerked and then he was still again, his head turned away from her. Cat touched the back of his neck and then his head very gently.

"Poor old boy," she said, "poor head." She bent nearer and kissed it.

The sun slipped further down, off the wall. The sky darkened to violet and grey.

In the kitchen, Richard and Judith sat at the kitchen table with Sam and Hannah, tea, juice and toast.

"What's for supper later?"

"Beef casserole and fruit crumble."

"Can I have the crumble and not the fruit?"

"I'll eat her fruit, she hates fruit and you should eat fruit, shouldn't you, it makes you not get things. Illnesses and things."

"Hannah likes some fruit, don't you, Hanny?"

"Bananas."

"See? That's not enough, is it?"

"Bananas are OK, Sam. Do you want some more toast?"

But Sam got up and pushed back his chair. "I'm going to see Daddy."

"I don't want to see him in bed, I only want to see him when he's better," Hannah said.

"Oh, you are so stupid, stupid, stupid, he isn't ever getting better, don't you know that?"