Chapter 17: The Family Chair

Joss's POV

The Friday supper before a ride is the one night the whole club eats in the same room.

The wives put out trestles in the main hall, and everyone queues for pie.

I took a plate and sat by the door with my cut hanging open and the bare place on the front.

Nobody sat near me.

I had been road captain for six years, and a week ago these men had asked me to settle their rows.

Now they looked at their pie.

Mari came in at seven in her good coat.

She did not look at me either.

She had her chin up and her mouth shut, the way she had walked through the church at Ewan's funeral.

I knew what it cost her.

I had my hands flat on my knees so nobody would see them.

Dennis stood up at the head table.

"Marianne, love," he called across the hall. "Come and sit with us."

She stopped.

The chair he had pulled out was beside his own, and it was the good one, with arms.

Everyone at that table knew what that chair was.

It was the chair for family.

I had seen him put the wives of dead men in it.

"I'd sooner stand," Mari said.

"Sit, sit. I've had it warmed."

She sat.

The hall was quiet enough for me to hear his flask.

He poured her tea into the lid and set it in front of her.

I knew the move.

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