The rain beats against the windows of the kitchen. The tide is out, but the dark grey of the sea and the overcast skies dominates the room. Julia has even had to put the light on. The fire is lit, but Emily still feels shivery. Tristram arrives, bringing a blast of cold air with him, dressed head to foot in ancient oilskins with his funeral-organising clipboard in a plastic bag. He drips on the doormat as he unpeels his outer clothing, shivering as stray droplets run down his exposed neck.
Emily goes over to give him a hug, flinching as his cold cheek touches hers. Tristram has been the mainstay of the funeral arrangements, with his checklist of May’s requirements and a lot more of his own ideas of what would make a fitting send-off for his old friend. They couldn’t have coped without him.
‘Everything’s going to plan. The Shack’s all ready for the big event. Fancy – two big parties in quick succession.’
‘This one’s hardly a party,’ says Julia, reproachfully.
‘Oh, but it is. May wanted a good send-off and I’m making sure she gets it. The dogs have gone into kennels for the night, to their disgust. Buster can’t be trusted near a kitchen any more and even Bruno was showing an interest in all the good smells. Gina and Vince have prepared all the pasties and mash for the wake,’ he says. ‘It was May’s favourite dinner, and Vince has produced five different kinds, including two veggie options.’
‘It sounds amazing.’
‘Everyone can toast May in port and brandy or gin and tonic or peach spritzers or Virgin Bloody Marys. And there’s champagne, obviously, and tea and coffee for those who want it, although personally, this sort of occasion always makes me want to get seriously drunk afterwards.’
‘I’m with you on that one,’ says Emily, dreading it already.
The phone rings and Julia pounces on it. She’s been waiting for Andy to call to make arrangements to get to the service. ‘Andy? Hello! … That’s lovely. Come over here for half-past eleven and we’ll have time for a quick coffee before we set off. The service is at half-past twelve. See you soon … No, there’s no need to wear black. In fact, May said she’d like everyone to wear their favourite brightly coloured clothes. Bye.’
‘That was Andy,’ she says unnecessarily. Tristram and Emily exchange grins. ‘Oh, and he says he’ll run us up to the chapel if the rain doesn’t stop, or even if it does. I’ll be glad of a lift. There’s no point in getting all dressed up if we’re going to look as if we’ve just stepped out of the shower.’
Emily heads upstairs to try to find something to wear. She’s left it very late because she still feels less than sparkling. Her hair is not as glossy as usual and her skin is dull and pallid.
After a search, Emily finds a purple dress at the back of the wardrobe that fits the bill. She hasn’t worn it since she was eighteen but it’s a classic style, ending just above knee length, with long sleeves, a Chinese-style collar and tiny silver buttons all down the front. She can dress it up with some glitzy accessories and her highest heels. Maybe her pale violet pashmina draped around her shoulders? She tries the whole lot on and it works.
Julia comes into Emily’s bedroom just as she’s about to look for a suitable necklace.
‘You look absolutely beautiful, darling,’ she says, standing back to admire the complete look. ‘Have you looked at May’s jewellery at all? It’s yours now, of course. It might be a nice gesture to wear something that belonged to her.’
‘Oh, that’s a lovely idea,’ Emily says. ‘I’ll put my comfy clothes on again and go over.’
‘I can come with you if you like?’
‘No, I think I need to do this on my own. As you say, it’s mine now. It was bound to feel weird the first time I went there after May died, but I’m sure this time will be fine. Andy’s been really good feeding Fossil for me, but I need to do what May would have done and just get on with it.’
Emily changes out of her funeral outfit quickly and heads across the road, wrapped in her grandfather’s old wax jacket over leggings and a warm jumper. When she reaches the door, she falters for a minute but there’s no point in hanging around. As she fumbles for the key in its not-so-secret hiding place, she thinks she might keep it with her from now on. Pengelly’s not got much of a crime rate, if any, but an empty house is a bit too much of a sitting target.
A wave of musty air hits her as she enters the kitchen so she leaves the back door open. Stepping inside, Emily’s heart sinks. The cottage feels so empty without May’s lively presence, and sadness hits her all over again. Heavy footsteps on the garden path make her jump and she drops the key with a clatter. She turns, wondering what she’ll do if it’s someone after May’s treasures. The sight of Andy in the doorway is both a relief and a worry. She’ll have the chance to tell him what’s happened now, but she’s not looking forward to it. He must have a very low opinion of her.
‘Oh, it’s you. I heard a noise and I thought I’d better check,’ says Andy. He grins. ‘Vi’s just come round to get her instructions for looking after Tam during the funeral; it’s a school INSET day. I figured it was safe to nip out for a minute to make sure May wasn’t being burgled.’
‘That was sweet of you.’ Emily looks at the yard brush he’s clutching. ‘Were you planning on sweeping them to death?’
He laughs. ‘It was the first thing I grabbed. Think yourself lucky; I could have gone into battle with the Hoover.’
‘Well, it was a lovely thought, anyway. I was just going to see if I could find something of May’s to wear later – a necklace or something. Gran thought it’d be a sort of tribute. Does that sound weird?’
‘No, it sounds great. I think she’d be really touched.’ He comes into the kitchen and leans on the table, looking at Emily properly for the first time. ‘So, how have you been?’
Emily clasps her hands together. There’s no easy way to say this, but she so wants him not to think too badly of her. ‘I’m not doing too well, I guess. The chickenpox has gone but I’m just … so sad.’
The silence is deafening. He puts down his sweeping brush and shoves his hands into his pockets, as if he daren’t let himself even think about touching her. When the moment has stretched way too long, he asks, ‘I probably shouldn’t ask this, but are you sorry not to be having Max’s baby?’
‘No. But I feel mixed up, somehow. I’ve never thought about being a mum before, or only in an abstract sort of way, but now, I keep wondering …’
Emily begins to cry, cursing herself for her weakness. Andy takes his hands out of his pockets and comes towards her. He looks down at her tear-streaked face and then tenderly puts his arms around her. She hesitates for barely a second before she moves closer and leans on him, revelling in the luxury of a man who doesn’t seem to be demanding anything. She can tell he just wants to make her feel better. He holds her close, kissing the top of her head as she sobs wordlessly, letting out the regrets and the lost hopes, letting herself relax into this safe haven.
‘Look, Em, you’ve made a mistake, but we’ve all done that,’ he says. ‘There’s no harm done. A baby right now would have been difficult. Max is out of the picture, isn’t he? You’ll have other chances, if you want them.’
‘Yes, he’s gone. I don’t know why I let it go on so long. But I feel so awful that I risked a child’s future. What if a baby had actually been born? To a mum and dad who hadn’t got much to say to each other any more and didn’t even like each other very much?’
‘It happens.’
‘But it shouldn’t. I know I’ve been totally irresponsible. If I ever think about doing the whole mum thing properly in the future, I’ll make sure I pick someone who wants me and wants my children.’
‘Hang on a minute.’ Andy steps back to look at her, still holding her shoulders. ‘This isn’t all about you. Max has a role here, too. He must have had a hand in being reckless?’
‘Max never admits responsibility for anything.’
‘What a bastard. If he were here, he’d feel the might of my sweeping brush.’
Andy follows her, and together they tip out the contents of May’s meagre jewellery box onto the bed.
‘That’s the one,’ says Andy, pointing to a glittering array of amethysts.
‘That’s May’s Aunt Barbara’s necklace, Andy. I’ve worn it before – May was really proud of it. And not only that, it matches the dress I’m going to wear. Brilliant.’
Emily picks up the necklace but Andy takes it from her hands and fastens it around her neck, turning her so that she can see them both in May’s wardrobe mirror. He slips his arms round her waist and Emily leans back against him as they look at their reflections. The necklace clashes with Emily’s sweater but her eyes are shining.
‘It’s perfect,’ she says.
‘At the risk of sounding as if I wrote this cheesy script earlier, so are you.’
Emily turns to face him and he bends to kiss her.
Eventually, Emily surfaces, head spinning. ‘We’ve got to go; we’ll be late,’ she says. ‘I need to get changed and Gran will be wondering what’s happened to me.’
Andy takes her hand and leads her to the back door. ‘We’ll talk about all this after the funeral,’ he says. ‘But for now, you just have to know that this is the best thing that’s happened to me for years.’
‘Me, too.’
‘And I want to say that even if you’d been pregnant with triplets, it still wouldn’t have stopped me kissing you. Is that bad?’
Emily locks the door behind them as they leave May’s … no, not May’s, her own house. She smiles at him. ‘Not bad, just a bit … reckless?’
‘Pot calling kettle?’
‘You’ve got a point. Right, I’m going to go and try to make myself look presentable and there’s not much time left to do it in. See you very soon.’
Andy kisses Emily again, but briefly this time. His lips are warm and she can feel the stubble on his chin. She reaches up to touch it. ‘Are you shaving today, or going for the Poldark look?’
‘Which do you prefer?’
She laughs. ‘Either is fine by me. I’m not hard to please. So long as you bring a spare umbrella and make sure I don’t disgrace myself by drinking too much fizz.’
‘It’s a deal. See you soon. I need to go and get into my suit and check there’s no Weetabix or chocolate stuck to the sleeves.’
They part company in the lane and Emily goes back to prepare for May’s last goodbye. As she crosses the road, she notices that the rain’s stopped at last. A few rays of watery sunshine are trying to warm up the atmosphere, and there’s a wonderful scent of wet earth mingling with the salty air. Today is definitely looking up.
Chapter Forty-Five
The suit was expensive when it was new, and Andy is grateful for that, although wearing your wedding gear for a good friend’s funeral is always going to be depressing. He stares at himself in the mirror and fixes his tie so that it doesn’t look quite so much as if it’s strangling him.
Vi nods approvingly as he comes downstairs. ‘You’ve picked a very suitable tie,’ she says. ‘May liked bright colours. You can’t go wrong with scarlet, can you?’
‘I wish I could come,’ says Tamsin sadly. ‘Will you be long, Daddy?’
‘I’ll bring you a pasty and a piece of cake back from the buffet.’
‘And for Vi. She likes cake.’
‘For both of you. I’m going now. It’s stopped raining but I’m taking the car so that I can give Julia and Emily a lift.’
He kisses the top of Tamsin’s head and waves to Vi, mouthing ‘Thank you’ as he leaves the room.
Julia and Emily are just coming across the lane as he starts the engine, and they climb into the Land Rover, being careful not to snag their tights on the random pieces of garden equipment.
‘I did mean to clean it out, but Tamsin’s been a bit demanding today,’ Andy says, pushing a strimmer onto the floor and brushing grass cuttings off the passenger seat. ‘Sit on this bin bag, Julia. Then you won’t get dirty.’
Julia does as she’s told without comment. She’s holding herself together fairly well at the moment, but Andy knows how hard this is for her. It’s the first funeral she’s been to since Don’s, and it’s in the same chapel and crematorium.
‘The undertaker came and picked the flowers up this morning,’ she says. ‘Do you think May would have liked them, darling?’
‘They’re gorgeous, Gran. You’re so clever. How do you know how to do that sort of fancy arrangement? I wouldn’t have a clue where to start.’
‘I went on a course at the village hall. Ida organised it. She’s good like that. There’s another one coming up soon for all of her Adopt-a-Granny gang. Then we’re doing a gardening one.’
Julia burbles on for a couple of minutes about foliage and so on but falls silent as they pull into the chapel car park. The forbidding granite building is nowhere near as attractive as the mellow stone church further up the road, but Andy likes it better. It’s solid and comfortable, with a beautifully polished wooden pulpit and long pews covered in faded flowery cushions, flattened by years of use.
‘Oh, good, somebody’s been in and done the rest of the flowers. Ida said it was all in hand,’ whispers Julia, reaching for Emily’s arm as they go up the aisle.
Andy looks around, amazed. On every pew end is a hanging display of yellow roses and that frothy white stuff. He can never remember its name – gypsy-something or other. Gardeners should have these names on the tip of their tongues, he tells himself. The stand in front of the pulpit holds a huge arrangement of more yellow and white flowers. Andy recognises chrysanthemums and tulips, plus delicate wild flowers and grasses in between. May would definitely approve – it’s a riot of colour.
The organist is playing a random selection of background music. Snatches of songs from the shows blend with classical favourites, very un-Methodist but relaxing. They must be some of May’s choices, from Tristram’s list. Andy checks in his pocket for the reading that’s his contribution. He hopes he’ll be able to get through it without disgracing himself, but it won’t be easy.
He wanted to say something at Allie’s funeral – it would have been good to stand up and tell everyone about her love of children and how she’d longed for a baby and how excited she’d been when she knew she was having Tamsin – but he had to settle for writing it down and giving it to the minister. Some of the kids from the school where she was a teaching assistant were there and sang a song that she particularly liked. It was ‘I Can See Clearly Now’, and Andy remembers thinking how sweet but inappropriate it was when crippling grief meant he couldn’t see anything clearly for his tears.
‘They’re here,’ hisses someone in the row behind, and everyone shuffles to their feet. The minister starts to intone the familiar words as he leads the sad procession up the aisle.
As he struggles to hold it together, Andy feels Emily’s hand slide into his and link fingers with him. Her warmth is comforting and reassuring. He looks across to see how Julia is doing and realises that Emily has her other arm around her grandmother’s waist. Standing up straight, she’s supporting them both with her presence, strong and steadfast. He breathes again. He can do this with Emily by his side.
‘Please be seated,’ says the minister, smiling down at them all from the pulpit. ‘We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of May Frances Rosevere, a friend to all of us and much missed. We will be singing one of May’s favourite hymns in a moment, which her neighbour, Andy, tells me she used to join in with at top volume during Songs of Praise, but first, a few words from Tristram to tell us how May arranged her service, and what we can expect.’
Tristram comes to the front of the church and Andy can’t help being impressed by his outfit. He’s wearing a
n old-fashioned frock coat in palest grey, charcoal-grey trousers with knife-edge pleats, the whitest shirt imaginable, a lemon-coloured brocade waistcoat and a yellow and white cravat. In his buttonhole is one perfect yellow rose.
‘I’m not going to talk for long, folks – that’s May’s first instruction, and I quote: “You can be a bit of a windbag, Tristram, so wrap it up fast, understood?”’
There’s a burst of laughter, and Andy begins to relax. This isn’t like losing Allie. May had a good long life and she was probably ready to go in the end. He leans back and loosens his hold on Emily’s hand, but she holds fast, settling herself so she’s closer to him, near enough to distract him from what Tristram is saying. With an effort, he zones in again.
‘… so all I want to say is that I was proud to have May as a friend for many years. Some of you children out there, and I mean the ones under sixty,’ more laughter, ‘will have thought of May and me as just two poor, lonely elderly folk keeping each other company in their declining years. May was thirty years older than I am, though – plenty old enough to act like a mum, but mothering wasn’t May’s style. She was an independent woman with forthright views. A few of you will have experienced the rough side of her tongue if you didn’t come up to her standards.’ The congregation are really with Tristram now. He’d make a great warm-up act, thinks Andy, smiling up at his friend proudly. ‘But all of you will agree that we’ll miss May in Pengelly. She was one of a kind. So today’s all about celebrating her time with us, and you’re all welcome back at The Shack after the cremation – which is going to be a very relaxed affair so if you want to go on ahead of us and open the bubbly to get you in the party mood, feel free. See you later to raise a glass – although I probably shouldn’t be saying this in a Methodist Chapel – to our wonderful, feisty friend and companion, May Rosevere.’
A burst of clapping breaks out, and the minister looks thrown for a moment but he gets up and introduces the hymn quickly, before anybody else can make a speech. They all stand to bellow out ‘How Great Thou Art’, and their combined voices shake the rafters.
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