He knew it was wrong to think this, but he felt it just the same. ‘It should have been me! It should have been me!’ he repeatedly told his friend... and family, not meaning a single word. The funeral had finished and everyone vanished like spirits into the night. Arthur set off for home in his car, whistling a jolly tune. On the back seat of the car lay Helen’s remains, they may well just have been cigarette butts in an ashtray, Arthur had forgotten them already. ‘Well, she’s dead now,’. Maybe it clashed with her designer jeans and that fitted western shirt with all its unused snaps. There was a look of surprise on her perfect oval face, but also a familiar, subtle invitation. That’s when he understood why Wheeler had burned the church. But Clay then knew, that beyond any hope of forgiveness, he was also responsible for the deaths of Abby and Ike. He shook his head in disgust and looked back at Sims. ‘And you, you poor, stupid, son-of-a-bitch, you killed her trying to impress. More

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