The Man Who Died Twice (Thursday Murder Club, #2)

by Richard Osman

the thin legs.’ ‘Why diet at eighty-two?’ says Joyce. ‘What’s a sausage roll going to do to you? Kill you? Well, join the queue.’

‘Not a big dog, of course,’ says Joyce. ‘I haven’t got the hoover for a big dog.’

‘Don’t get a small dog though, Joyce,’ says Ron. ‘Small dogs are like small men: always got a point to prove.

The silly thing is, Douglas knows they are right. He knows he is only being asked to be respectful, and he knows people just want to turn up to work and do their job and not be reminded every five minutes of what they look like, or who they slept with. Douglas knows they are right and he is wrong. He doesn’t miss the good old days, he misses his good old days. He doesn’t suppose they were good for most people.

Elizabeth’s life has been one of classmates and cousins, of professors, of colleagues and of husbands. She has always found friends harder. What did friends want from you? What did they expect you to do? Her great brain hadn’t worked it out.

He looks down at the board and shakes his head. Sometimes the pieces weren’t where they were supposed to be. Sometimes you weren’t in control. And perhaps that was OK?