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answer right away. But tell me you'll think about it, yes? Overnight. You'll think about it overnight, will you do that?'
    She thought for a moment as if she was making some calculation in her head. She nodded. 'Okay. And we'll meet in the back room of the pub tomorrow. In the afternoon.'
    'What time?'
    'About half past two.'
    'Alright.'
    'But I can't guarantee anything , Lewis. Can't guarantee I'll say yes. I'll have to think about it and talk to certain people and loads of things. I need time on my own. This is all too…'
    She waved her hands in the air in a gesture that indicated confusion and chaos. Lewis understood and backed away from her.
    'I need time,’ she said. 'Don't call me or anything tonight, okay? I'll see you tomorrow afternoon.'
    Lewis nodded and stepped aside, watching her walk away. He watched her leave the cemetery. Heard her mobile phone ring and saw her take it out of her pocket and speak into it:
    'Hello? Oh, it's you. Where are you?'
    She left the graveyard still speaking into the phone, heading down into the village. Lewis watched her until she'd turned the corner out of sight and wondered who'd been calling her. Wondered who'd been on the other end of the phone.
    She hadn't asked him where he'd gotten so much money from, which was strange. Maybe his proposal had startled her so much that she'd forgotten to ask. Or maybe she thought he'd saved it. Did it matter? Lewis crouched down at the side of his mother's grave and asked her if it mattered. Asked her also if he'd done the right thing, if asking Manon to marry him had been sensible, and honourable. He asked his dead mother lots of questions and if she answered, if he heard her voice in the earth, then it was heard by no-one but him.

Chapter Six
    In the early afternoon Cakes entered the outskirts of Bristol. He pulled off the motorway onto a large estate, parked by a row of shops and then called a number on his mobile phone. He had a quick conversation with the person on the other end who asked him where he was and then gave him some sketchy directions which Cakes scribbled down on the back of a crumpled envelope. Then he bought fish and chips and ate them in his van, then he bought a Daily Sport at the newsagent's and got back in his van and drove back onto the motorway. He followed the signs for the nearest Travelodge and found it just as the streetlights were flickering on, dusk arriving early there. A few minutes later and he was sitting on the bed in a hired room, sipping tea, telly on. He turned to the back pages of the Sport and scanned the list of 'Escorts' there. One caught his eye: BUSTY BRISTOL AREA H/H VISITS, and a phone number which he called on his mobile. A female voice answered, husky with cigarettes:
    'Hello?'
    'I'd like to see you tonight,' Cakes said. 'In about an hour. Can you do that?'
    'Where are you, lover?'
    Cakes told her. Then asked: 'How much do you charge?'
    'Depends on what you want, doesn't it? But we can talk about that when I get there. In about an hour.'
    'Okay.'
    'I need your room number, darlin'.'
    Cakes told her. 'There's a side entrance,' he said. 'So you don't have to go through reception.'
    'I know the place. See you in about an hour.'
    'Great.'
    He snapped his telephone shut and finished his tea. He then took a shower, scrubbing himself from head to toe, brushing his teeth, shaving his face and shampooing the stubble on his head, hissing with pain as he rubbed the blue lump on his skull. He cursed Lewis, and then cursed himself for not packing a smart set of clothes as he put back on the outfit he'd set off in that morning: t-shirt, denim jacket, sweatpants, baseball cap, all of which smelled slightly sweaty, so he gave them, as well as his armpits, a blast of Lynx. Then he went downstairs to the bar where he sat and drank a few pints of lager on his own, watching the people come and go, come and go. He wondered what they were doing there, in that Travelodge on the outskirts of Bristol. Were they on