‘Bloody hell, Matt, where did all these people come from? I don’t even recognise half of them.’
‘There are a few I know but not all of them.’
The funeral director I’d been so rude to yesterday approached us as we got out of the car. I smiled, and he gave me a small nod in response. I saw Liz and her husband, David, standing with Flo just by the entrance to the chapel, but I couldn’t seem to move. I didn’t know what to do. From behind me I heard the warm voice of the funeral man.
‘It’s okay, Mum and Dad are going to be taken in first and you and your family can follow us when you’re ready,’ he said. When I turned to thank him he’d already moved away and was quietly giving guidance to the pall-bearers. He was very efficient and businesslike, whispering quiet instructions so that everything happened in the correct order and with the minimum of fuss.
Liz and her husband, David, made their way over to me, with Flo following along behind. As she reached me, Liz opened her arms and pulled me to her.
‘You look tired, my darling. Did you get any sleep at all last night?’
‘Yes, a bit. Not enough, obviously, if I look that bad.’
She stood back and held me at arm’s length. ‘I’m just worried about you. I don’t think you’re taking care of yourself. You should come and stay with me for a few days so I can feed you up and make sure you get some rest.’
‘Stop fussing, Liz. I’m sure Abigail knows what she’s doing. Ignore her, my dear, you look fine,’ said David, leaning in to give me a peck on the cheek.
‘I’m just worried about her, that’s all.’
‘You should listen to your husband,’ said Flo, forcing her way between me and Liz and taking my arm. ‘She knows she’s always got me if she needs anything. Don’t you, dear?’
This battle between the two of them for my attention was something I was used to and normally I could find the positives in it, but not today; today I found it bloody irritating.
‘I’m all right,’ I snapped. ‘I just want to get this day over with as soon as bloody possible.’
Flo and Liz exchanged angry stares and Flo let my arm drop.
‘Then let’s get inside and do just that, then, shall we?’ she said. I nodded and we walked over to Matt and Lucy; they were talking to a lady I thought I vaguely recognised. She turned and gave me a polite smile before walking away.
‘Are you ready to go in?’ asked Matt.
‘Who was that?’
‘Mrs Vaughan, old friend of Mum and Dad’s, she said.’
‘I don’t remember her, do you?’
‘Not really, but she’s come to pay her respects. I didn’t want to be rude.’
I looked across the pathway. Mrs Vaughan was standing with a group of men and women, all of them around my parents’ age; more faces I didn’t recognise. Then my gaze came to rest on one of them – Terry Egan. My insides felt as if they’d dropped to my feet and I felt a shiver run through me. Egan turned around. Had he sensed me watching him? He tipped his hat to me and smiled.
‘Matt.’
My brother turned and followed my gaze across to the crowd. I saw his shoulders tense.
‘What the bloody hell is he doing here?’ muttered Flo. ‘I thought he’d pegged it years ago. Vicious bastard, he was.’ She shivered and Matt put his arm round her tiny shoulders.
‘Let’s all just go inside, shall we?’
*
The chapel was packed with people. Matt, Lucy and I made our way to the front pew with Flo, Liz and David. Mum’s casket was already on the plinth that would carry her away at the end of the service; Dad was on wooden trestle legs that had been draped with a rich purple and gold cloth. There was music playing quietly: Louis Armstrong singing ‘A Kiss to Build a Dream On’ – one of Mum’s favourites. Was it a song that Dad would have chosen too? I felt a pang of guilt; I didn’t know the answer to that. I couldn’t recall ever hearing him play music or sing along to anything. I remembered that he spent a lot of time in the pub, he chain-smoked Benson & Hedges and he loved a strong cup of tea. That was all I could recall about a father who’d been there for the first fifteen years of my life and it made me feel bloody awful. Why couldn’t I remember more? Had I buried it all so deeply that it was as if I’d never had him in my life? The fact that no one spoke about him – ever – meant that there had been no stories to keep him alive in my memory. And now he was gone for good.
Lucy whispered, ‘Nan loved this song, didn’t she?’ I nodded my reply, afraid that if I tried to speak I wouldn’t be able to stop the tears. I sat quietly, chewing the inside of my cheek, and waited for the choking feeling to pass.
People were still filing into the pews behind us; there were lots of murmured greetings and people muttering, ‘Excuse me,’ as they tried to find a place to sit. I turned to look and the first face I saw belonged to Terry Egan; he was sitting at the end of the back row. He’d taken off his hat and I was struck by how much my brother looked like him; it was unnerving. Or perhaps I was just seeing things because now I knew the truth. Matt turned to see who I was staring at.
‘Ignore him, Abs. He wants to cause trouble. Don’t let him get to you.’
He was right, of course, I knew that, but it irked me to see his smug face at the back of the chapel. I was so focussed on him that I wasn’t paying much attention to anyone else until my eye landed on another familiar face – Jack. He was standing at the back of the chapel, wearing a dark suit and black shirt. He looked very sombre but he gave me a tiny smile that instantly took my breath away.
‘You might have to stop holding your breath, my darling. It’s really not good for you,’ Liz leaned in to whisper to me.
‘He’s here. He came.’
‘What? Who? Oh!’ she exclaimed as she clocked who I was looking at. ‘Did you know he was coming?’
‘Know who was coming?’ Lucy chimed in, looking round to see who we were talking about.
‘Stop looking at him, the pair of you, turn around,’ I said.
‘Who’s he with?’ asked Liz. ‘He hasn’t brought the Barbie doll, has he?’
I hoped not but I couldn’t tell without turning around again. I risked another look and this time he raised his hand and gave me a discreet wave. He wasn’t with the Barbie doll.
‘He’s on his own, I think.’ I couldn’t believe he was there. My stomach was in knots. Liz and Lucy both made a move to turn round again but they were stopped by my brother.
‘You three look like bloody meerkats bobbing up and down! Turn round and sit still, for God’s sake!’
*
The service seemed to pass by in a flash and for most of it I felt as if I were having an out-of-body experience. I listened to the priest talk about my parents as if he knew them, even though he didn’t, and I listened to my brother give a moving speech about how our parents were finally reunited after so many years apart. It was a good speech; he skilfully managed to avoid mentioning the reason for that separation and instead he chose to focus on memories of happier times before Dad left us – none of which I could remember. Everything was going as planned. I even managed to hold it together as each of their coffins disappeared discreetly behind the curtains. I was willing the proceedings along, mentally ticking off the order of service, praying for it to be over. We sang the last hymn, ‘The Lord is My Shepherd’, all very traditional, and then I heard a voice from the back of the chapel that made my blood run cold.
‘I’d like to say a few words, Vicar, if no one minds, of course.’ Terry Egan was making his way down the aisle.
‘What the fuck is he doing?’ asked Matt.
‘I have no idea,’ I replied, ‘but I’m buggered if I’m about to let him ruin our parents’ funeral.’ Without a second thought, I stood up and stepped out in front of him and Matt got up to stand behind me.
‘Whatever you’re thinking about doing, Mr Egan, I’m asking you very politely to reconsider,’ I said, with as much attitude as I could muster. He smirked at me and leaned close
r.
‘I suggest you sit down, young lady, before I lose my temper and do something I might regret.’ The threat in his words was obvious, no nuance or subtlety about it, and I knew that if things turned ugly then my brother wouldn’t back down from a fight. The look on Matt’s face was the same one I’d seen the night before, when Egan had been standing in Mum’s kitchen; I knew I couldn’t let him get hurt protecting me.
‘Just say what you need to and then leave.’ I turned and forced Matt back into his seat. As I sat down I saw that Jack had moved towards the front of the chapel too and he was wearing the same murderous look as my brother. I shook my head at him and he took a few steps back.
Mr Egan was a man who liked an audience; that much was obvious from the first. He walked slowly to the podium and placed his hat down in front of him. Looking up at the expectant faces of the crowd, he smiled, safe in the knowledge that he could take his time since we all seemed powerless to stop him.
He took a long look at the photo of my father that stood on an easel at the front of the chapel.
‘When I first met John Turner he was a nobody. He had no job, no money and hardly any friends, but what he did have was a gift for making people do whatever he asked them to. He was a very persuasive man. It was a unique talent that he employed on my behalf many, many times.’ Egan was on a roll and he was enjoying himself.
‘I think most people here will know how our friendship ended. It was… an unfortunate turn of events, shall we say?’ This remark seemed to cause a few murmurs from somewhere at the back of the room and Egan held up his hands to demand order be restored. ‘Now, now, let’s not dwell on the past. John had a right to protect his family and I’m just here today to let them know that there are no hard feelings.’ Egan looked over to my brother and me before he continued.
‘Matt and Abby – looking at you both today – I know that your parents would be very proud. Very proud indeed. You’ve both done so well. Abby, with your little café, and Matt with the gym. You’ve achieved so much with so little, it would seem. Congratulations to you both.’
What the fuck? I’d never heard anyone make a compliment sound so sinister. Where was he going with this? I looked across to my brother, who just shrugged.
‘We all have to live with the choices we make, and the consequences of those choices can last a lifetime. But time has passed, we’ve all moved on and that’s the end of it.’ With those last words, Egan looked towards a small group of men at the back of the room and a few of them nodded. ‘Let’s just say that all is forgiven and leave it at that.’ With a final glance at me, he picked up his hat and strolled down the aisle. The heavy oak door of the chapel banged shut behind him and an awkward silence settled over the room. The vicar stepped cautiously up to the podium, looking around to see if anyone else had anything they’d like to share.
‘Yes… well… um… forgiveness is certainly something we advocate here.’ He let out a nervous little laugh. ‘If you would all bow your heads, we will end with a final prayer.’
*
The sun was shining brightly as we left the chapel. I said a few words to people offering their condolences, although I wasn’t paying much attention to them. I’m a little ashamed to admit that I was looking for Jack.
‘Bloody hell, I felt like an extra in one of the Godfather movies at the end there. Who on earth was that man with the hat?’ said Liz, shrugging on her coat.
‘An old friend of the family’s apparently. He came to the house last night and introduced himself,’ I said.
‘Are you ready to head over to the café?’ asked Liz. My heart sank at the thought that this ordeal wasn’t quite over yet. I had a bloody wake to get through.
‘I need to find Lucy and Matt.’
‘I think they’re already in the car waiting for you, see, over there.’ Liz pointed towards the big black car I’d come in and I saw my new funeral buddy holding the door open, waiting for me. I kissed Liz on the cheek and walked over to the car. I stepped in and sagged back heavily on the seat, relieved to be out of sight.
‘Well, that was interesting,’ said Lucy. ‘Who was the gangster at the end?’
‘Just someone who knew your nan and grandad a long time ago,’ replied Matt. ‘He’s no one important.’
‘He certainly thought he was important. Stood up there looking all menacing, talking about Grandad and what he did for him. Urgh.’ Lucy shuddered. I reached over and took her hand.
‘It’s nothing. Just an old man trying to make himself look interesting. Isn’t that right, Matt?’ He just grunted in reply and then turned to face the window.
Matt and I didn’t speak for the rest of the journey; he wouldn’t even turn around to look at me. Lucy tried to fill the uncomfortable silence with chatter but gave up when she realised that no one was in the mood to talk.
When our car eventually pulled up to the kerb outside the café, Matt was the first one out; he didn’t even wait for the funeral director to open the door. As I got out I could see that Liz had put signs in the café windows – ‘Closed for Private Function’ – and guests were already milling around inside.
‘I hope everything went the way you wanted it to,’ asked the funeral director.
‘What? Oh, yes, it was lovely. Thank you for everything you did,’ I said, as I held out my hand for him to shake.
‘No trouble at all, really.’ He took my outstretched hand and held it for a few seconds; was he flirting with me? At my parents’ funeral? No, he couldn’t be. We stood there looking at each other for a moment; I wasn’t sure what to do next.
‘Would you like to come and have a cup of tea? Before you have to go, I mean?’
‘Thank you, but no, I’m afraid I have to get back.’
‘Hot date?’ I blurted out. He looked at me with a mixture of shock and confusion.
‘God, that’s awful, sorry, why did I say that?’ I was utterly mortified. ‘You mean you have another… um…’
‘Funeral, yes,’ he interrupted, saving me from further embarrassment.
‘Okay, then, well, goodbye.’ I turned and walked away as fast as I could without breaking into a run.
The café was crowded. Liz was over by the counter, taking cling film off trays of sandwiches, and Lucy was pouring tea from a huge stainless-steel pot; there was no sign of my brother. Flo was talking to a group of ladies all about her age, their grey heads close together as they whispered about something. As I got nearer, Flo looked up and said something to the little group that made them all stop talking.
‘Have you seen Matt?’ I asked. ‘I can’t seem to find him anywhere.’
‘I think he went upstairs to the flat,’ Flo said. ‘Is everything all right, Abby? You look ever so tired. Don’t she look tired, Iris?’ Half a dozen grey-haired heads all nodded in unison, then they started talking about interrupted sleep and stress levels and all the many other reasons for my current haggard state. None of it was doing much for my already shredded self-esteem, so I left them to it, and went in search of my brother.
I didn’t have to look far. He was upstairs in my flat, sitting at the kitchen table, picking the label off the neck of a bottle of beer.
‘This was supposed to be my hiding place today. Go and find your own spot to skulk in.’ I nudged him on the shoulder as I passed; when he looked up I could see the worry etched across his face. Going to sit opposite him, I reached across the table to take his hand, but he shrugged me off. He leaned back in his chair and downed his beer, then got up and went to the fridge. He took out two more bottles, popped the cap off each and handed one to me.
‘Cheers,’ he said mournfully, tapping his bottle against my mine. He leant on the counter by the sink and took a long swallow from his beer.
‘Go on, then,’ I said, ‘get it off your chest. Whatever it is.’
‘It’s nothing, Abs. I can sort it. Don’t worry.’
‘Why do people say that? Don’t worry. As soon as you tell someone not to worry it’s the first thing t
hey do. It’s fucking pointless.’
Matt came and sat back down and then reached for my hand, but this time it was my turn to shrink back.
‘Is this something to do with Egan and his little performance at the funeral?’ I asked. My brother kept his head down, but I wasn’t about to be put off. ‘Matt?’ Finally, he took a deep breath and looked at me.
‘Egan thinks we’ve got some money stashed away somewhere and he said he’s coming to collect.’
‘Money? What bloody money?’
‘The police never recovered all the cash that Dad and his cronies robbed from the security van. Egan has this theory that Dad left it with us before he turned himself in.’
‘How much?’
‘Just under a million quid.’
‘Is that what all that bollocks at the funeral was about? All those snide remarks about the café and the gym and how well we’ve done for ourselves?’
Matt nodded. I couldn’t help myself – the laugh, and a large amount of beer, were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
‘Shit, Abs! Careful!’ Matt leapt out of the way just in time, my beer spray just catching his sleeve. He grabbed a cloth from the side and wiped his arm.
‘He thinks we have a million pounds stashed away somewhere?’
‘Yep.’
‘He’s insane. Or just plain stupid. If I had that sort of money I certainly wouldn’t still be here, scrabbling around to make a living with a café that’s barely breaking even!’
‘I know, it’s ridiculous. He’s been telling people that he doesn’t believe you inherited this place and he’s convinced that I must have had money from somewhere to be able to go into partnership with Keith at the gym.’
‘Who told you all this? Did you speak to him?’ I asked, trying to ignore the vision of Egan jumping my brother in a dark alley somewhere to threaten him. Matt shook his head. ‘No. I thought that’s why he came to the house yesterday, but he never said anything. No, all of this came from Jimmy, one of the old faces at the gym. You remember Jimmy?’
I shook my head.
Secrets and Tea at Rosie Lee's Page 20