‘Well, we want to make the decisions about Jean’s funeral, not leave it to this Mr Kennett. I’ve never even met the man.’

‘Enid used to speak well of him.’

‘I still feel he’s intruding.’

‘I didn’t feel that at all. It’s high time the factory did something for the women they employ there. This is a first example. Enid would approve.’

‘I can’t say that Jean would.’

‘Oh?’

‘She wouldn’t mind sharing her funeral with Florrie Duncan. They were good friends. There’d be some meaning in that. As for the others …’

‘It will be interesting to see how their families respond.’

‘That’s anybody’s guess, Jonah. I don’t know Agnes Collier’s family. They live over towards Uxbridge.’

‘What about Shirley Beresford?’

‘Oh, I’ve met her husband lots of times. Neil coaches the football team and Jean was one of the reserves. Whenever she played, I used to stand on the touchline and cheer her on. Neil Beresford must be beside himself,’ said Harte. ‘He’s not only lost a lovely wife, he’s had to see his hopes of winning that cup match crumble into dust. He gave everything to that team.’

‘Then he’ll probably agree with me about this offer. From what I can gather, two of the victims played in the football team — Shirley Beresford and your daughter, Jean. It seems fitting that they should be laid to rest together.’

Harte was not convinced. He let Jenks advance his arguments in favour of a collective burial but they made no impact on him. He resisted what he saw as a breach of his daughter’s private rights. The factory had controlled her life from the moment she started to work there. It felt wrong to let them dictate the terms of her funeral as well. There was another factor that influenced him.

‘We’re not churchgoers, Jonah,’ he admitted.

‘You were married in a church, weren’t you?’

‘Well, yes — we were.’

‘Then you’ve nothing to worry about. Everyone in the parish is entitled to a Christian funeral. You’ll be given the same consideration as any of us. We were all there every Sunday, of course,’ said Jenks, ‘because Enid loved going. There was even talk of letting her become the assistant organist. I’d have been so proud of her if that had happened.’ He smiled at Harte. ‘Where does that leave us, Reuben?’

‘You want to accept the offer and I don’t.’

‘Make sure you think it over properly.’

‘My wife won’t like the idea, I can tell you that.’

‘What about the others?’ asked Jenks, holding up his envelope. ‘Suppose — for the sake of argument — that the families of Florrie Duncan, Agnes Collier and Shirley Beresford all agree to the suggestion. That would mean we outvote you four to one.’

‘I won’t be forced into changing my mind,’ said Harte, resolutely.

‘Nobody would dream of using force in a situation like this. It would be wholly out of place. What I wish to know is this,’ said Jenks, slyly. ‘What would it take to persuade you that the five of them should be buried at the same time?’

Harvey Marmion was not entirely sure about the motives behind the offer. Bernard Kennett told him that it was a gesture of goodwill and that the factory felt an obligation to its employees, but Marmion wondered if other reasons had prompted the management to act. If accepted, their offer would garner some good publicity for the munitions factory and it was always in dire need of that. Newspaper articles about its operations always focused on the dangers faced by the women who worked there. Serious accidents at the factory — and it had had its share of them — could not be hidden from the public and stories of that kind made recruitment more difficult. In this case, however, the explosion took place at a pub some distance away. To give it extra prominence would not reflect badly on the factory.

Talking to the works manager, Marmion also wondered if guilt had played a part in the decision. The offer to pay the funeral expenses could have been triggered by the need to atone for the rigours that the women were put through on a daily basis. The victims were not five anonymous employees. They had a real presence at the factory. Two of them were members of the football team that had brought such kudos and a third, Florrie Duncan, was the official representative of the National Federation of Women. A fourth woman, Enid Jenks, had more than once entertained diners at the canteen piano during the lunch break. Accompanied by her, Agnes Collier had sung a few popular songs with more gusto than musical talent. Because they were widely known and liked, their deaths were felt more keenly.

After chatting in Kennett’s office, Marmion had asked to see the football pitch. It was on a fairly barren patch of land at the rear of the factory. They stood on the touchline and looked at the tufted grass and the undulations.

‘We have a big advantage over teams who’ve never played here before,’ said Kennett. ‘Our ladies know where the bumps and dips are. They exploit them.’

‘Is this where the cup final will be played?’

‘No, Inspector, that’s at a neutral venue in Camberwell.’

‘How good is the opposition?’ asked Marmion.

‘The question to ask is how badly weakened is our team now that we’ve lost some of our best players? I was talking to my secretary about it — she watches all our games. She reckons that Shirley Beresford was the real difference between the two sides. And Maureen Quinn, the goalkeeper, will hardly be in a fit state to play after what she’s been through. Jean Harte was also in the team for the cup final.’

‘The biggest loss is their coach,’ said Marmion. ‘Neil Beresford has moulded that team together and obviously knows what he’s doing. But the death of his wife has rocked him. When I called at the house, he was so upset that he wasn’t even able to answer a few questions. His mother had to take over instead. Mrs Beresford thinks that a supporter of the Woolwich team must have planted that bomb.’

‘That suggestion is not as absurd as it may sound, Inspector.’

‘Oh, I haven’t ignored it.’

‘Passions run deep in the world of ladies’ football.’

‘That’s why I’ve sent two of my men to Woolwich to make some discreet enquiries,’ said Marmion. ‘But I’m still inclined to dismiss the theory because it presupposes that someone from a munitions factory several miles away was both aware of the date of Florrie Duncan’s birthday and the fact that three members of your football team — I’m including Maureen Quinn — would be helping to celebrate it. Then, of course, we come to the small matter of the pub itself. How would a complete stranger know where it was and that the party would be in its outhouse?’

‘Perhaps he wasn’t such a stranger,’ said Kennett, darkly. ‘What if we have a rabid Woolwich supporter here in the factory?’

‘It’s possible but a trifle unlikely.’

‘Why is that, Inspector?’

‘Because I think he’d know that there’s a much easier way of sabotaging the football team than by blowing up some of its players. His target would be Neil Beresford. He’s the key to the success of your team,’ said Marmion. ‘Kill or disable him in some way and you’ve more or less handed that cup to Woolwich.’

Neil Beresford looked and felt a little better but his mother was still worried about him. Reassured by the fact that he was able to get dressed and come downstairs, she was troubled by his occasional bursts of tears. Having known him as a strong, resilient person, she was surprised by his collapse in the wake of the disaster. Since her son now seemed more robust, she felt able to broach the topic of the funeral.

‘Would you like to talk about that letter we received?’

‘No,’ he said.

‘A decision will have to be taken, Neil.’

‘Then let Shirley’s parents make it.’

‘But you’re her husband,’ said May. ‘By rights, you should take charge of the funeral arrangements. It’s your duty.’