Altered Life

by Keith Dixon

CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE CONGREGATION moved carefully through the headstones to a distant part of the graveyard. There was now a slight rain and the silence was broken by the riffle of umbrellas being shaken out and raised. I looked around but no one was looking at me. Why would they? They hadn’t felt the earthquake that I’d just swallowed and which was still giving off little aftershocks like acid gas in my chest.

  At the graveside the vicar said a few more words that were carried off by the wind, and then the pall bearers lowered the coffin on straps into its hole. Two of the pall-bearers went amongst the mourners offering woven baskets containing rose petals. Some of the older women seized crispy handfuls and went to the graveside to throw them in. Brand’s extended family seemed to be everywhere, bulky men with short-cropped steel-grey hair and blowsy middle-aged women whose heads leaned forward with the weight of their mascara. Now the main event was over, they stood around in groups smoking Silk Cut and discussing travel arrangements back to town. A pair of blond children raced unhindered around the graveyard, playing loud hide-and-seek behind the headstones.

  I found Laura Marshall and stood next to her. She looked up at me clearly exhausted, though there was a kind of determination glinting in the corners of her eyes. I was liking her more and more. She leaned towards me.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d come.’

  ‘You asked me to.’

  ‘Do you always do what people ask?’

  ‘Almost never.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’

  We stood for a moment and watched people drift away, pulling their collars up against the rain. I breathed deeply and inhaled the ozone.

  ‘I should get back,’ Laura said. ‘There are some things I’ve got to sort out in the office.’

  Suddenly I didn’t want her to leave. ‘Anyone here I should know about?’ I said. ‘Anyone from the company?’

  ‘Well you saw Tara.’

  ‘Yes ... ’

  I didn’t seem capable of adding anything else. I was only just beginning to function properly again after seeing her in the church. Thankfully, Laura carried on without giving me a second glance.

  ‘She seems to be bearing up,’ she said. ‘I saw her the night she came back from London. She was wiped out. She seems to be doing better now. And one or two of the directors made it. That man over there with the ginger hair– ’

  ‘The one who looks like he’d prefer to be propping up a bar?’

  ‘ – that’s Derek Evans, the Finance Director. Lives and breathes for a deal. Just watch him screw those suppliers until they bleed. He and Rory didn’t really get on. Rory didn’t understand money, which always exasperates people in Finance.’

  Evans had remained in the church doorway, and was moving from foot to foot and blowing into his hands. Like most of us, he wore a full-length dark overcoat but it looked a couple of sizes too big. His hair was thinning on top and he compensated by growing large sideburns that came below the bottom of his ears but didn’t travel far enough to join and make the full beard. He glanced in our direction, then went back to staring ahead and warming his hands with his breath.

  ‘He looks miserable,’ I said. ‘Perhaps he liked Rory deep down.’

  ‘His being here is just a professional courtesy. Don’t be fooled. He won’t be feeling much one way or the other right now. He’ll be calculating the profit and loss associated with losing the head of your company. The damage to our reputation, that kind of thing.’

  ‘He sounds focused, as we used to say.’

  ‘He’s being a right pain at the moment, because the other directors want me to take more responsibility and he fancies it himself. He keeps dropping unsubtle hints. Oh God, now he’s coming over.’

  Evans approached, rubbing his hands together.

  ‘How much do you think this little lot cost?’ he said. ‘Take into account all the ballyhoo back at Tara’s now, I’d say several thousand pounds, thank you very much. Waste of money pure and simple. Come in naked and go out naked, that’s my motto.’

  ‘It’s something to do with respect,’ Laura said.

  Evans seemed to ignore her jibe. ‘Didn’t think you’d be here,’ he said. His eyes raked over me briefly but saw nothing worth commenting on. ‘Lot of work to do now. Some big money coming in, thank you very much. What did you pay for that coat, by the way? Good colour. Might get one for the missus.’

  Laura was irritated. ‘Why wouldn’t I be here? What did you expect me to do? Sit at my desk and knock out some more advertising brochures?’

  ‘Now don’t fly off your famous handle. I just thought you might find it too much.’

  ‘Think again, Derek. I’ve had to cope with funerals before.’

  ‘So it seems. I’m sorry, do I know you?’

  This last comment was directed, finally, towards me, as though I were a persistent buzz in his ear that he eventually had to deal with. The wind gusted suddenly and one of his hands leapt from its pocket and firmly stroked a ginger lock back into place, like a magician hypnotising a dove with a pass of his hand.

  ‘We haven’t been formally introduced,’ I said.

  ‘Oh.’ He waited, expecting more. I let him wait for a while, during which he glanced briefly at Laura.

  ‘I’m Sam Dyke,’ I said finally. ‘I was about to take on some project work for Mr Brand.’

  His eyes widened and he nodded slowly. ‘I see. Will it ... you know?’

  ‘Carry on?’ I pursed my lips speculatively. ‘It’s yet to be decided. Miss Marshall and I have some difficult negotiations to work through.’

  ‘I see. Laura, when we’re back in the office I need to speak to you.’

  ‘Of course,’ Laura said. ‘Take a ticket and get in the queue.’

  He saw he wasn’t going to get much joy from us. With a nod, he wandered away and headed back to his car, a hunched figure slightly below average height who looked and acted friendless.

  ‘Well,’ I said to Laura. ‘I like a man with his values in place. Anyone else here I should know about?’

  ‘Not now,’ she said. Then she turned to face me full on. ‘Tell me, you were going to take this case anyway, weren’t you? It didn’t matter what I said to you.’

  ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Oh don’t. You like to be tough and the big man, but you don’t fool anybody. You’re rude and a bit direct, but the fact that Rory was murdered has really pissed you off. I think there’s a part of you that feels responsible, as if you could’ve done something about it.’

  ‘You think I should have done something?’

  ‘How could you? I warned you against getting involved. If anyone should feel responsible, it’s me.’

  ‘No one could have predicted what happened,’ I said. ‘Don’t blame yourself for what you can’t anticipate. Old Chinese proverb.’

  She opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it and instead blew her nose.

  There was no one left at the graveside now. Even the vicar had walked past us with a small, collegiate smile before re-entering the church. I turned and headed back to my car. Laura Marshall walked with me, carefully placing each foot in front of the other on the rutted path, like an elegant if rather sombre tightrope walker. Everything she did radiated misery and I felt an unprofessional urge to make her feel better.

  ‘I’ll send you a rate card,’ I said, listening distantly to the sound of my own voice and thinking again about Tara’s face as she walked past me. ‘Who’s going to be paying?’

  ‘I’ll work it out.’

  ‘Is this going to get you in trouble? Don’t you need agreement from the directors for this kind of expense?’

  ‘Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl. I’ve got the budget to spend on this if I want.’ She sounded irritated so I said no more.

  I watched her walk away from me and climb into her car, a black Saab with a soft top. It barely sagged as she dropped heavily into the driver’s seat and rested her head on
the wheel. I felt a compulsion to turn and go back into the churchyard to hunt for Tara, but caught myself and instead walked away from the church and the mourners, looking neither right nor left in case there was anyone watching who might see the look on my face.