by Katy Colins
I nodded and moved on.
‘I need to let you know that because of Abbie’s career and the tragedy of her passing, we’ve had a reporter from the local newspaper call us as they are keen to cover her funeral.’
‘Oh?’ Mel blinked.
‘Of course you have the choice to turn down their request to attend, or you can allow them in to the service but set rules such as no photographs or no interviews, for example.’
There was silence as they both thought about this.
‘What would you do?’
‘I’m afraid it has to come from you. We don’t often get requests like this, but then Abbie was in the public eye.’
Callum cleared his throat. ‘I’d prefer to say no.’
‘Sure, no problem. OK, let’s move on. Did Abbie have any favourite flowers?’
‘Peonies.’ Callum answered in a beat.
‘Oh god,’ Mel laughed. ‘Remember that time when she set the house up for that shoot. What was it? Women and Home? Anyway, she’d ordered some flowers from the florist but the order had gone wrong and instead of three large bouquets there were thirty of the bloody things!’ Mel shook her head, smiling at the memory. ‘Flowers everywhere! It looked stunning, but not so great when you live with someone with hay fever.’ She jabbed a thumb at Callum.
I smiled along and went back to my notes. ‘You told me that Abbie loved Bali?’
‘Did I?’ Callum frowned.
I swallowed quickly, suddenly realising that he hadn’t actually told me that; it was something I’d picked up from my Facebook session the other night. There was an album of tropical photos that Abbie had tagged herself in.
‘Oh, I’m sure you mentioned that she’d visited a few times?’
Oh no, was I just digging myself a hole?
There was a long, uncomfortable silence.
Finally, Callum spoke. ‘Every day has been such a blur, to be honest…’
‘I’m sure it has.’ I remembered to breathe and hoped my cheeks hadn’t flushed with colour. ‘I just wondered if you might like to incorporate her love of travel into the service somehow? Maybe we could display mementos of your travelling trips for guests to see as they enter? We could wrap colourful Balinese sarongs around the pew ends as a tribute to her wanderlust?’
They were both silent for a second. I really hoped I’d read the signs right, that they were up for a less traditional and more personal service.
‘I think that’s a really nice idea, Cal.’ Mel smiled. ‘Show the guests another side to her than just the modelling, glam, party-girl Abbie?’
That was the first time I’d heard Mel give her sisterin-law a compliment of sorts. I wondered what had gone on between the two of them; there seemed to be some frostiness on Mel’s part.
‘Yeah… sounds good,’ he mumbled. He was clearly in that tell me where to go and what do stage of shock. I wasn’t even sure he was taking any of this in.
A while later I closed the file, the soft sound making Callum jump.
‘One last thing.’ I paused. ‘We’ve got Abbie in our care now.’
‘Really? Through there?’ Mel nodded to the wall separating us and the viewing room.
I nodded. ‘We can arrange a time before the funeral for you to be alone with her?’
‘As in, see her again?’ Mel visibly shivered at the thought.
‘Well, no, it will be a closed casket.’ They had decided not to have Abbie embalmed. She had sustained some horrific injuries in the accident that no make-up could easily cover. ‘But you’re more than welcome to take a seat in the chapel of rest with her. Some people find it comforting to say goodbye that way – to take your time alone, without the other funeral guests around. Some also say that seeing the coffin before the funeral may help to avoid some of the shock on the day?’
Mel looked at Callum. ‘It’s up to you, bro? I don’t feel like I want to but… you might?’
Callum chewed on his lip.
‘You don’t need to decide right now. She is here, safe and in our care until the funeral, so if you do want to sit with her, as long as you give us a call before turning up, we can make sure you won’t be disturbed. Have a think about it?’ I stood to my feet, making the decision for them.
‘Good idea. Thanks, Grace.’ Mel took my lead.
Linda was standing looking highly conspicuous, adjusting a pile of leaflets near the front door. For one moment I thought she was going to pass Mel and Callum a fact sheet on signing up for their own prepaid plan, but luckily she just smiled at the pair of them and stuck out a hand.
‘Linda Bates, a colleague of Grace’s. I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m sure Grace has already informed you about the media interest we’ve had? I’m sure the piece will make a fitting tribute to your wife,’ she soothed.
‘Oh, well, actually –’ I began.
Callum cut me off. ‘We’re not allowing any journalists to come.’
Linda looked taken aback.
I noticed Mel frown, clearly thinking she was missing something.
‘Really? Oh, I understand that you have your reasons but… and I don’t want to tread on any toes.’ She dared to glance at me. ‘But we usually find that if the newspaper asks to cover a funeral it’s because they see it as newsworthy. That your wife’s passing could be used in both a personal tribute to the woman she was, as well as to possibly highlight issues in the community, like increasing road safety awareness… for example.’
I was quietly furious. Linda didn’t have the Anderson’s best interests at heart, she just wanted the media to attend as it would get the business more exposure. Plus, as a bonus, she knew that it would mean I’d be under more pressure. I clenched my teeth. ‘Thanks, Linda, but I think –’
‘Hang on,’ Callum said, pausing to look at his sister who gave a slight shrug. ‘Maybe we should say yes?’
‘It’s really up to you,’ Mel offered.
I finally found my voice. ‘You don’t need to decide right now; if you want to think about it and let me know?’
‘Yes, do think about it,’ Linda simpered. ‘I wouldn’t want you to regret not making the most of an opportunity that has arisen from something so tragic.’
Callum nodded forcefully. ‘Let’s let them in, as long as they don’t speak to anyone or expect an interview. I think you’re right, Lisa –’
‘Linda.’
‘Sorry, Linda. I think you’re right that if something good can come out of this then we should act on it.’
‘If you’re fine with it, then so am I,’ Mel said, and gently rubbed his arm.
‘I think it’s the right decision. Also, please remember that the whole of the team send you their wishes and thoughts at this time,’ Linda said, nodding along to herself.
What was she doing? Why did she sound like she was reading from a bad script? Her confidence really knew no bounds.
‘Thanks,’ Mel said warmly.
‘Our door is always open,’ Linda said in this strange sing-song voice as she opened the front door.
‘Er, right, see you,’ Callum stuttered as they finally made their way outside.
‘Such a shame,’ Linda shook her head, watching the siblings through the window. ‘And him, all alone… I can see now why you were adamant about keeping this one all to yourself, Grace. You never said just how attractive Mr Anderson was.’
‘Excuse me.’
I was not going to take her bait. Instead I hurried back into the meeting room to collect our half-empty mugs. I hated the way she always had to have the last word. I also hated how she knew exactly which buttons to press to get a reaction.
Chapter 11
Ms Norris sat on a chair in the centre of the musty room, bringing me up to speed with what she’d been up to since I saw her last, watching me set the room up. I’d decided not to waste as much time or effort on baking so many different recipes, nor blowing up balloons that, in all likelihood, were going to go unseen.
‘Right. This is for next week.’ She unfo
lded a neatly handwritten list of ingredients. ‘I thought after macarons it was only right to graduate onto baklava…’
I couldn’t help but smile at the cheeky wink in her eye.
‘Ah, and here comes young Marcus!’ Ms Norris beamed as the door creaked open.
‘Sorry I’m late. My mam needed us to stay and help find Gordon. He’d escaped again.’ He rolled his eyes and scooted a chair over.
‘Gordon?’
‘My hamster,’ he clarified with a shrug. ‘This is the third time in three days he’s managed to get out of his cage. My mam got it off Facebook Market Place and I reckon it’s got a dud door as she only paid twenty quid and in the shops they’re at least forty-five. She loves a deal.’ He sat back and placed a large skater-style trainer on one skinny leg of his jeans.
‘Did you find him?’
‘Yeah, he was hiding in the back of the telly unit where we keep old copies of the TV guide. He’d made a little nest out of Phillip Schofield’s face.’
‘Clever boy,’ Ms Norris mused.
‘Well, you’re here now, that’s all that matters. Thanks for coming, and it’s good that Gordon has been found. Again.’ I cleared my throat, about to get down to business. ‘So, while we’re waiting for others to join us,’ I said as cheerily as I could, glancing at the closed door, ‘please help yourself to one of these.’ I reached into my handbag and pulled out a Tupperware box of double chocolate chip cookies that I’d baked last night.
Ms Norris’s eyes lit up as she took one. ‘My favourites.’
‘Cheers, Grace.’ Marcus grabbed two. Ms Norris made a comment about him being a growing boy.
‘You’re too good to us, Grace.’ She patted my hand gently. Her liver-spotted skin seemed alarmingly translucent against mine. ‘Marcus, do you like to bake?’
He baulked at the idea and rapidly shook his head. ‘Nah, but did you know you can make meringue using a tin of chickpeas?’ Marcus said with his mouth full. ‘My mam’s new fella, Jason, told me that. He’s a vegan.’
‘What will they think of next?’ Ms Norris shook her head in amusement. ‘I bet your mum is pleased that you’re coming here.’
‘Yeah, she’s glad of the peace and quiet, she said.’ He shrugged. ‘Means she can watch Eastenders in peace.’
There was a beat of silence.
‘Right then, I guess we should make a start.’
The optimistic stack of forms explaining our prepaid plan options taunted me from the nearby table. I’d created an Ask A Funeral Arranger Facebook group, and posted daily motivational quotes, links to interesting news articles on grief, and details of that night’s meet-up. It still wasn’t working though. ‘It looks like it might just be the three of us…’
Ms Norris patted my hand again. ‘I mentioned it to my friend Barbara when I saw her last. I’m sure she said she was going to have a think about joining us, she just finds it difficult to get about, what with her dodgy hip and all. She’s had them both done, but still struggles.’
‘My mam said she’d share the Facebook page with people at work but then she got into a bit of bother with her boss over summat, so…’ Marcus did an over-the-top stretch, flashing a pasty white torso. ‘If no one turns up to your Funeral Arranger thingy then can we just, you know, talk?’
‘Talk?’
‘Yeah, like, I found it good last time how you asked me about my grandma. No one’s bothered to do that for months,’ he admitted, blush rushing to his full cheeks. ‘After I left here I spoke to me mam about what my grandma was like, when she was my age. It’s good to talk, that’s what they say isn’t it?’
‘I certainly never expected to mention my Billy,’ Ms Norris chimed. ‘I went home and put a photograph I had of the two of us back on my mantelpiece. For so long it had been hidden in a drawer.’
I felt a funny burst of pride that despite the last meeting being such a let-down in terms of numbers and prepaid funeral plans, they’d both got something out of it.
‘So, what you mean is you want to use this time to talk about your feelings?’ I clarified.
Marcus nodded brusquely. ‘Yeah, but not as, like, girly as that.’
I smiled. ‘Anything in particular you wanted to talk about?’
Marcus scrunched his face up. ‘Well…’
‘Hello?’ He was cut off by a loud, booming, friendly voice that I knew very well. ‘Hope I’m not too late!’
‘Raj? What are you doing here?’
He flashed a sheepish grin. ‘Rani is at the shop covering for me. It’s nice to see her do some work for a change.’ He laughed and padded over the floor, his shiny white trainers squeaking as he did. ‘I thought I’d come along and see what the fun was about!’
My stomach dropped. I really, really could do without him cracking lame jokes. If the event was going to become a sort of bereavement session, then it needed to be a safe space with no judgement or corny punchlines. I did the introductions and offered him a cookie. At least I could slip him a prepaid form when he left, and something might come of it.
‘Who have you lost, dear?’ Ms Norris asked him, patting the empty chair next to her. I hadn’t laid them out in the wide circle formation. I didn’t want to tempt fate.
Raj sat down and cleared his throat, but was cut off by a loud creak that made us all spin our heads to the door.
‘Is this the funeral meet-up?’ a lanky man called out, poking his head through the gap in the door. Long, stringy brown hair hung limply around a thin face. He was wearing a faded band T-shirt and ripped drainpipe jeans that had once been black. ‘There ain’t no sign or nothin’.’
A sign. I probably should get one. Make it look more professional, especially now we had two walk-ins! I felt a frisson of excitement. Maybe Ms Norris was right. Build it and they will come.
‘Oh, yes! This is us.’ I didn’t want to correct him that the official title was ‘Ask a Funeral Arranger’. I couldn’t help but glance at the wall clock. It was now ten to eight. ‘You’re welcome to come in but we don’t have long left. We have to be out of here by eight, I’m afraid.’
He didn’t appear to have heard as he slunk in and nodded at Ms Norris and Marcus and Raj, before pulling up a chair. I turned to face the latecomer. I wondered if I should pull out my unread speech on funeral plans from last week, but we probably didn’t have time for both that and questions.
‘I’m Grace. I work as a funeral arranger at Ryebrook Funeral Home.’
‘Deano.’ The man jabbed a skinny finger in his direction. He had a silver bar through his nose that I caught Ms Norris admiring.
‘Great to have you here, Deano. So, er, do either you or Raj have any specific questions about the funeral process you would like to ask me?’
Raj had just scoffed another cookie. I waited patiently as Deano scratched the back of his head. ‘Well, no, but yeah, but…’
‘It’s alright dear. This is a circle of trust,’ Ms Norris piped up.
‘Cheers. Well, yeah. I thought, you know, given you work in funerals you might be able to help me with sumfin,’
‘Go on…’
‘It’s not about a funeral though. It’s about death. A specific death.’ Deano blinked rapidly and chewed on his ravaged nail beds. ‘David Bowie.’
‘David Bowie?’ I thought he was going to say his mum or dad or maybe a grandparent, like Marcus had.
David Bowie?!
‘Yeah. I’m just, like, wanting to know where he’s gone. Cause it’s not like his music can just end like that.’ He clicked his fingers. ‘He was a legend, man. I still can’t believe he’s not around anymore.’ Deano’s breath had gone a little jumpy. ‘It feels like some awful nightmare.’
‘Did you know him?’ Marcus asked.
‘Nah, man. Not like socially. But I felt like I knew him and he knew me. Right here.’ Deano pounded on his skinny chest, above where his heart lay.
‘I felt exactly the same when Princess Diana passed, god rest her soul,’ Ms Norris said with a soothing clic
k of her mouth. Raj nodded along. ‘It was as if the whole world was mourning but they still didn’t get it. No one could understand how she made me feel.’
‘Exactly!’ Deano nodded enthusiastically. ‘But my question is… where does that energy go now they’ve gone?’
He slumped back on the chair, looking completely bewildered, waiting for an answer. Everyone turned to look at me expectantly. I could hear the shuffling of impatient feet outside; it was eight o’clock. I had a minute or two to try and answer this unanswerable question.
‘Well… I guess what you need to take from this, what we can all take from this, is the legacy that people leave behind.’ I tried to ignore the growing murmurs from the corridor and focus on the faces in front of me. ‘What I mean by that is,’ I glanced at Marcus, ‘lives cut off too young or too soon can easily become iconic because people mourn for what they never became. The Jim Morrisons, James Deans, JFKs, Amy Winehouses of this world.’ For some strange reason, Abbie Anderson’s face flashed in front of my mind. Her glamorous and enviable lifestyle cut short. ‘But you don’t need to have been a celebrity to leave a lasting impression on someone. They will stay alive in your heads and hearts.’
‘Like my grandma?’ Marcus asked.
I nodded then winced. ‘I’m so sorry everyone, but we’re going to be hounded by a stampede of angry line dancers in a minute if we don’t make a move.’
Ms Norris, Marcus and Raj obediently got to their feet. Deano stayed seated, contemplating what I’d said. He was going to find himself in the centre of a do-si-do if he wasn’t careful.
‘Same time next week?’ Marcus called out, slinging a rucksack loosely over one shoulder. He was out the door before I had time to reply. A stream of denim-clad dancers huffed into the room.
‘See you later alligator,’ Ms Norris chimed. ‘I’ll tell my friends to pop along!’
‘Me too. Thank you, Grace. It has been very illuminating!’ Raj nodded.
‘Please do. Er, glad you enjoyed it… Deano? We’ve really got to go.’
Deano looked like he was in another world.