The Widow Who Invented Her Husband

How it begins

The widow's husband had paid his premiums for eleven years. Unfortunately, he had never been born.

Clara Dene placed the claim beside the parish clerk's reply and read both again. There were receipts, signatures, and a death certificate. There was even a portrait: a solemn man with one hand resting on a book he did not appear to have enjoyed.

Birth, however, had eluded him.

Mrs Voss sat opposite in a veil too fine for the rest of her clothes.

“Perhaps the register was damaged,” Clara said.

“It is possible.”

“Three registers?”

“People are careless.”

Outside the office, a horse objected to something in the street. Clara waited until the noise passed. She had learned that silence encouraged claimants to improve on their first answers.

Mrs Voss improved nothing.

“I must verify the marriage,” Clara said.

The widow took a folded paper from her glove.

The certificate was incomplete. The date had been printed. So had the ornamental border. Where the husband's name belonged, there was a pale indentation but no ink.

“Why bring me this?”

“Because the man who printed it was found dead this morning.”

Clara looked toward the glass partition separating her desk from the senior clerks. Nobody was watching. They rarely did unless she made an error that could be described as feminine.

“You should take it to the police.”

“They already have one.”

“One certificate?”

“One husband.”

The horse outside fell silent.

Mrs Voss lifted her veil. She was younger than Clara had assumed, and more tired.

“If you reject the claim, they will call me a liar. If you accept it, someone will be paid for a man who never belonged to me.”

Clara drew the unfinished certificate closer.

For the first time, she noticed a tiny broken flower in its border. The same flaw appeared on the death certificate beneath her hand.