Kieron stood to one side and watched her as she emptied the dead blooms, put in fresh water from one of the council cans, and carefully started to arrange the fresh flowers in the urn. Petey, her minder, watched them from the cemetery gates.She was good to do it, thought Kieron. Every week, she was here.‘I do it for Mum and Dad,’ she said once when he questioned her about it. ‘I promised them I would.’Still, he thought she was good to do it. Very good, under the circumstances.It was cold today. An arctic breeze swept through the graveyard. It was autumn and soon winter would be here. Jaysus, he hated the winter. Africa had been heaven compared to this. He pushed his hands into his coat pockets, hunched his shoulders against the cold, and watched her.‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said. ‘Maybe we should report Pat missing to the police, what do you think?’Pat hadn’t been seen for over two months now. All right, Kieron hated the bastard, but the bastard was his brother and it seemed like he had dropped off the edge of the world.
