Next of Kin by John Boyne

master-designate of the Montignac estate, six feet tall, his naturally pale skin coloured slightly by regular exercise and healthy eating. He was as handsome now as he had been charmless then. He had changed in so many ways in the two decades in between that she could barely count their number. But she had welcomed him then, she and Andrew had both welcomed him, and had never made him feel like an outsider despite his insistence on placing himself in that very position time and again.
    â€˜I wanted to tell you,’ she said as they walked out on to the landing. He stopped short and looked at her expectantly. ‘I was very proud of you today. I don’t think I could have got through it without you. I found myself missing Andrew terribly—the whole thing brought back such bad memories—but having you by my side, well it was a comfort. Of sorts.’
    Montignac placed his tongue in the corner of his mouth and bulged it out slightly as he considered this, taking the compliment with a slight nod before stepping briskly down the stairs and leaving her alone at the top.
    8
    JANE BENTLEY MADE HER way directly to the gallery of Court no. 1 at the Old Bailey, where she spotted her friend Eleanor Tandy sitting in the front row and took a seat beside her. Beneath them the phalanx of court reporters, solicitors, barristers and policemen were moving into position like the actors in a play before curtain-up and the crowds of interested spectators—the ones lucky enough to have secured a seat by arriving early—were settling into the stalls out front. The only things missing were an usherette patrolling the aisles with ices and the sounds of the string section being tuned up.
    â€˜I was starting to worry about you,’ said Eleanor, taking her bag off the adjacent chair and placing it on the floor beside her feet. ‘I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold on to your seat but I knew you wouldn’t miss this for the world.’
    â€˜How could I?’ asked Jane. ‘It’s like I said to Roderick earlier, simply everyone is going to be here today.’
    â€˜Not everyone,’ replied Eleanor with a knowing smile. ‘After all there are those who are conspicuous by their absence.’
    Jane nodded. ‘The king, you mean? The Duke of York?’
    â€˜Among others. They’re staying well out of it, aren’t they?’
    â€˜Well do you blame them?’ asked Jane. ‘The poor man’s only been on the throne a few months, there’s all this talk of the American woman he’s going about with and now this. A killer in the family. All in all it’s not a very auspicious start to his reign. It makes you wonder what the next forty years hold.’
    â€˜They have strange blood, if you ask me,’ said Eleanor.
    â€˜The Windsors?’
    â€˜Of course. You know they say that Prince Albert, Queen Victoria’s husband, might have been Jack the Ripper. And he would have been the present king’s great-grandfather.’
    â€˜Oh that’s just conjecture,’ said Jane with a laugh, who didn’t enjoy mystery novels quite as much as her friend. ‘Quite unlikely, I think.’
    â€˜There is a difference, I suppose. The Ripper chose tarts as his victims. The new king chooses one as his mistress.’
    â€˜Eleanor, really,’ said Jane, stifling a laugh. ‘Someone will overhear you.’
    â€˜All the same,’ said Eleanor. ‘It’s hard to know who to trust, isn’t it? This one, though, this Domson boy, he has the look of the late king, don’t you think? Around the eyes, I think.’
    Jane shrugged. ‘I haven’t seen him up close,’ she admitted. ‘Only in photographs.’
    â€˜I’ve come every day,’ said Eleanor. ‘Haven’t missed a word. I practically gave up my life over these past few months to attend court. And Roderick’s been awfully good.’ Jane smiled and