by Judy Astley
‘Charlotte’s here. She’s waiting outside in the car,’ Mike called up the stairs as Anna was putting on some lipstick. ‘She says hurry up or you won’t get good seats.’
‘Not sure getting a good seat is what you go to a funeral for,’ Anna grumped as she came down the stairs. ‘But it’s OK, I’m ready.’
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come too?’ Mike asked as he gave her a goodbye hug. ‘I could fling a decent coat on and a black bandana.’
‘No, it’s fine. And anyway, you still need to rest that foot. Also, she was my friend: you didn’t know her. And she hated black.’
‘I know Alec though.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘But … not that well. Only that week last Christmas.’
‘Thanks for not saying, “Not as well as you do though,”’ Anna said as she opened the door. ‘I know you were dying to.’
He did a mock-innocent look. ‘Moi? Would I?’
‘Probably. Oh God …’ She looked down the path towards the old green Mini where Charlotte waited, revving the engine to hurry her.
‘God what?’
‘I’m going to the funeral of my ex-lover’s mother with my husband’s ex-mistress who is also the ex-girlfriend of my ex-lover. It’s practically The Jeremy Kyle Show on a plate.’
Mike laughed. ‘We’re too old for our so-hectic love lives to be of any interest to the entire country, thank the Lord.’
‘You’re right. The bare facts would only summon up a collective “Ugh, yuck” from the nation.’
‘And hey, all that was way back. We’ve moved on and all is well. Apart from for poor Miriam, of course. Have a good time,’ Mike said, kissing her briefly and waving to Charlotte. ‘Or as good a time as can be had at these things.’
‘Thanks. I don’t know what time I’ll be back. I probably won’t be out long. I’ll go back after for a polite drink but leave pretty soon.’
Charlotte was wearing a scarlet satin coat under which was a bright emerald dress that had ridden up her thighs and showed a froth of lace-edged shocking pink net petticoat and red fishnet tights. ‘Alec said no black,’ she said as Anna climbed into the car. ‘But I hope he’ll make an exception for these boots.’
‘I know. That’s why I’ve chosen purple.’
‘It’s quite subtle though,’ Charlotte said as she took a turning on to the main road. ‘Can’t you jazz it up a bit?’
‘I’ve got this with me.’ Anna pulled a pink and scarlet scarf out of her bag. ‘I think I’m waiting to see if everyone’s gone with the dress code or reverted to standard funeral issue. I’m trying to be flexible.’
‘Me, I never bother. They’ll have to take me as I am,’ Charlotte said. ‘I liked old Miriam; she and I understood each other. She’d have made a great mother-in-law and I’m sorry things didn’t work out with me and Alec, but only for that reason. She approved of me and that’s not something I can say about most of the mothers of men I’ve dated. We once had sex at her house in the spare room when we thought she was out but it turned out she was in her bedroom having a nap the whole time. We only knew she was there because after we’d finished she shouted “Bravo” and “Encore” through the wall.’
‘Oh, hell’s teeth, how embarrassing!’
‘I didn’t mind but Alec was mortified.’
‘Yes, he would be. He was funny about …’
‘… about sex, yes. Rather, er …’
‘Furtive?’ Anna supplied, wondering why on earth she was having this conversation with Charlotte of all people.
‘Furtive! Yes, that’s the word. He only really liked it when he felt he shouldn’t be doing it. No wonder his marriage broke up.’
Miriam believed in colour and fun but she didn’t believe in God or the afterlife. The funeral party assembled outside Mortlake Crematorium were a cheerful-looking crowd in bright jolly colours, chatting and laughing as if they were at a party. Anna felt horribly sad though – was this how things were going to be in the future? Many a visit to this venue or others like it with everyone trying to pretend that never seeing a friend again was no big deal? And one day it would be either her or Mike arriving in a box. They hadn’t discussed it properly, had no real idea how they wanted their own departures to be. She could guess what Mike would say: that he didn’t care as he wouldn’t be there, but perhaps they should discuss the options some time. A green burial or a simple cremation? All she knew was that with luck they had a good few healthy years left in them. She prayed she’d outlive her children. Mike’s sprained ankle had shaken her, though. It showed how easily things could change from pretty much perfect health to loss of mobility in a few brief seconds. She tried to reason that the same could have happened at any age and that it was, as it turned out, no big deal. But it was different now they were older. Ten years ago, tripping on a step wouldn’t have given her any pause for thought. Now, she couldn’t help running a worst-case scenario at any tiny mishap.
Charlotte parked the Mini and she and Anna walked towards the front entrance where everyone was waiting in the chill damp air for the arrival of the coffin. Alec detached himself from the group and walked towards them. He – ignoring Miriam’s instructions – was wearing a formal dark suit with a white shirt and a grey tie. In the background lurked a woman who Anna assumed was his ex-wife, holding the hands of two children who looked under twelve and very solemn. Those three were also in neat tidy dark clothes, the children’s hair brushed to a shimmer. The former Mrs Alec stood a little apart from the motley crowd of Miriam’s noisy friends and was frowning as Alec talked to Anna and Charlotte. Anna wondered if she’d put her foot down about suitable funeral attire for the deceased’s closest relatives.
‘Thanks so much for coming,’ he said to them, hanging back a few seconds before kissing them each on one cheek. Anna guessed he’d been debating which one to greet first and decided he’d opt for her on grounds of seniority.
‘Our pleasure, sweetie.’ Charlotte beamed at him. ‘Well, not pleasure exactly, but you know what I mean. I’m so sorry about your mum. She was great fun.’
‘She was. She’d always said she wanted one of her poems to be read at her funeral.’ He grinned. ‘I had quite a time finding one that was suitable so I gave up and just picked my favourite. Luckily I’m not the one who has to read it out. Oh …’ He looked up past the two of them. ‘She’s here. She always said she’d hate a parade of cars trailing after the hearse so that’s why we all had to meet here. If she’d had her way she’d have been brought here in the back of Sandy the fishmonger’s van but Sandy had a row with the undertaker about it and that plan came to nothing.’ He went back to meet the undertakers and Anna and Charlotte went inside the chapel to take their seats.
Anna felt moved to see that Miriam’s coffin was draped in a multi-coloured patchwork quilt that she remembered hanging over the back of Miriam’s sofa. ‘I’m mending it,’ Miriam had explained, and had pointed to the needle and thread that was poked into it, waiting to cobble together some of the unravelled seams joining the hexagons. It had been there the next time she’d gone to Miriam’s too, and the time after that, and now Anna felt certain that if she went and looked closely, the needle and thread would still be there, waiting to be used. She just hoped, as the coffin was slowly paraded down the aisle, that it wouldn’t stab one of the undertakers as he slid it on to the plinth. She also rather hoped someone would remove it before Miriam went into the flames – a lot of work had gone into it and Miriam would hate all that effort to go up, literally, in smoke.
Someone had to say it, Anna thought later with a deep sigh once they were in Miriam’s house for the wake: ‘She had a good innings.’ To Anna’s surprise, given Miriam’s self-confessed atheism, she’d requested a vicar conduct the ceremony and there’d been hymns, ‘Fight the Good Fight’ and ‘Eternal Father, Strong to Save’. The vicar had said Miriam loved a good lusty session of hymn-singing, even if she didn’t believe in the message. He was the one who mentioned her having the innings, as if she were an
England batsman scoring her last winning run.
‘Someone always says that,’ Charlotte said, downing half a glass of red wine in one go. ‘It would disappoint Miriam. She never liked a cliché,’ she told the vicar firmly.
He put his hand out. ‘Cecil Horley,’ he said, taking her hand and giving it a thorough pumping, ‘and yes I know it’s a poncy name but I think my parents were hoping for a foppish actor.’
‘They weren’t far off,’ Charlotte said. Anna laughed, embarrassed by her bluntness and the simple truth of it: he was wearing a traditional dog collar but with a yellow and grey striped waistcoat over a pink shirt. A lilac silk scarf hung from his neck.
‘Thank you,’ he said, bowing slightly.
‘You did well to read that poem,’ Anna said, glad that he seemed to understand Charlotte. ‘I first heard it early last year. She recited it at a book launch and I think she shocked a few people.’
Cecil laughed. ‘It takes a lot to shock me. You’d be surprised what vicars get told.’
Anna looked at Charlotte. Her eyes were gleaming and she slyly reached sideways to where someone had left an open bottle of red wine and topped up both her glass and Cecil’s. ‘Really?’ she said to him. ‘Do tell me.’
Anna wandered off in search of something to absorb the wine. Miriam’s poem had been a pretty terrible one in which she compared a slug to a penis. There’d been a nervous outbreak of tittering as the poem was read at the crematorium but that soon turned to unbridled proper laughter. All Miriam’s poems had been fairly awful but they were exuberant and wordy and fun, which was a lot more than could be said for those of many people. As she had told Cecil, Anna had first heard that particular gem at Miriam’s book launch where she’d met Alec for the first time. They’d gone to a bar afterwards for chips and champagne and thus had started a lovely, sexy interlude that had made her feel so exhilarated and joyful and a good thirty years younger. Would she ever feel like that again? Or would she – one day – come to terms with the knowledge that youthful passion being a part of her life had gone for ever?
‘Is this all OK, do you think?’ There was Alec, beside her now, ‘Would Mum approve?’
‘I think so,’ Anna told him, fighting a sudden urge to put her arms round him, to be close to his warm strong body. ‘You’ve done her proud and she’d love it. Everyone’s having a splendid time.’
‘Except her,’ he said, looking sad. ‘It’s all very well, all this … I don’t know … determined jollity, but she’s gone and I’ll miss her. The children no longer have their gran and she won’t see them grow up. She’ll mind that, wherever she is now. She’ll mind missing this. She always loved a party.’
‘That’s the thing, isn’t it, with funerals,’ she said. ‘It’s the best party you ever have and you’re the one who misses it.’
Alec nodded and then looked down at the floor for a few moments. ‘Come with me, Anna?’ And he took her hand and led her through the kitchen and out to the conservatory where Miriam’s hardy annual seedlings were leaning towards the light and looking a bit dry. Anna had decided she would water them before she left but after that she hoped someone would take care of them. Miriam treasured her bright summer flowers. These seedlings of cornflowers and calendula and tobacco flowers would have been sown in autumn so they’d flower as early as possible next summer. Miriam would have sown more outside next year once the earth warmed up but these would go in early and, in the late spring, give her that first taste of colour that she so loved.
‘Will someone take care of these?’ Anna asked Alec.
‘What, the seedlings? I suppose so,’ he said.
‘Once they’ve got another couple of leaves they should be out in the greenhouse really. It’s going to be too warm in here for them.’ She wondered what he’d brought her out here to say, away from the noise of the party. She felt she was putting off an awkward moment; she was slightly nervous about what he might say to her. Funerals did that, she knew. People would take the opportunity to reveal secrets, confess things better left unsaid.
‘It was sudden,’ he said, opening the door and letting some cool air into the overheated house. Behind her, Anna could hear the laughter levels rising as the guests drank more. They were becoming rowdy and raucous. A proper wake, she thought. Near-riotousness compensating for the sense of loss and of life’s ending. Partying as denial. ‘She fell and had a stroke, apparently; or the other way round. Wouldn’t have known anything about it anyway, they tell me, though I’m never sure how they can be so certain.’
‘Well, that’s got to be a blessing, hasn’t it? Who wouldn’t want to go like that?’
He grinned. ‘Mum wouldn’t. She hated not knowing everything that was going on. She liked you.’
‘Thanks. I liked her. I hear she liked Charlotte too.’
He blushed, which Anna found a touch too boyish, reminding her of their age gap. ‘She did. But it was never going to work. Suki – my ex – wants to give us another go, she says. But …’
I bet she does, Anna thought but didn’t say, now having, through her own property dealings, a very good idea of the value of a four-bedroom house with conservatory bang in the middle of prestigious Chiswick. Suki had been the one to leave the marriage, taking the children to the far end of the country and barely letting Alec see them except strictly on her terms.
‘But I won’t go back to her. I couldn’t, not after …’ Anna expected him to say almost any name, most likely Charlotte, but he finished: ‘… you.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Alec …’ she began. ‘It could only …’
‘I know, I know, only be a short-term thing. I guess it sorted a few things out for you, home-wise, but for me, well, it spoiled me for your regular girlfriend type.’ He laughed. ‘But who knows what’s out there? I hear Sean and Thea are getting married. Good for them and I’m glad it worked out.’
‘You’ll be OK,’ Anna said with more conviction than she really felt. ‘You’ve at least got plenty of time on your side. And actually, I’d better go now. I’ll see if I can find Charlotte but I expect she’ll need to leave her car here.’
‘That’s fine. If she gives me the keys I can put it on the driveway when people have gone home.’
‘Thanks. There’s no way she could drive. I think she only brought the car because she was being kind to me, giving me a lift. And … thanks, Alec, for today. And …’ She couldn’t really continue, not without getting tearful.
‘It’s OK. I know,’ he said, putting his arms round her and hugging her close. She had a feeling that this wasn’t just a goodbye for the day but a more permanent one. There was probably no reason for them to meet again now and she-and-Alec would fade away into a simple memory that would make her smile when (and if) she reached properly old years.
Anna went in search of Charlotte but couldn’t find her among the crowd in the sitting room. Thinking that she might as well go to the loo before she left to catch a bus home, Anna went up the stairs. A shadowy figure crossed the landing from a bathroom to a bedroom and, as the door opened, Anna caught sight of Charlotte’s bright green dress in a crumpled heap on the floor. Next to it was a lilac puddle of vicar Cecil’s silk scarf. Miriam, Anna thought as she shut the bathroom door, would definitely approve.
TWENTY
‘Thea, my darling. I can explain.’ Thea heard Sean’s words on her voicemail and immediately switched it off. I can explain was, in her opinion, one of those phrases that no one should ever trust. It was a weaselish little term that meant the person doing the explaining already knew there was a problem with what they were about to explain – and had known for some good long time.
Thea had arrived home from Cornwall well into darkness, weary and depressed. She went straight to bed without bothering to unpack and had a horrible restless night in which she flipped and flapped about, got the duvet tangled and woke up hot and miserable and wishing she had to be anywhere but at the school that day. Furious, hurt and all jangled inside, she showered and washed
her hair and spiked it up for maximum Melanie-annoyance. If the head teacher picked on her for ‘unprofessional’ appearance, she’d give her both barrels. Just let her try. As she drove to school in the slow-moving rush-hour traffic and the still half-dark of that winter morning, Thea was well aware that this attitude was bordering on the childish but she wasn’t in any mood to care. If she couldn’t punch that smug Katinka in those perfect all-American teeth, hard, then she’d take on anyone else who was unlucky enough to be in the firing line.
She was disappointed to find that Jenny wasn’t in school that day. She was the one person she’d have told about Sean. Jenny would have somehow put an optimistic spin on it, might even come up with some reason why Sean hadn’t bothered to mention that he’d had (possibly still had) a wife, but it turned out that she’d been in France with her son’s school trip and they’d been delayed returning on their ferry by the stormy sea that Sean had predicted. Melanie was fuming, stalking round the staffroom and loudly complaining about the cost of supply teachers and general lack of organization.
Thea’s early-morning spirit of anger and rebellion subsided into a pit of gloomy depression and she kept out of the head’s way, going quickly to her classroom to deal with the inevitable stream of parents with questions about costumes for the nativity play, reasons why their infant couldn’t play outside at lunchtime and a mother who wanted to be given – in advance each Monday – a list of the week’s school lunches so she could work her way through it to see whether she felt it was a suitable diet for her picky-eater child. ‘They can’t run on empty,’ she whined. ‘And he can’t eat a thing if there’s something green on the plate. Green terrifies him. He can’t even look at it.’ Thea answered all the queries, even the last one (pointing out as kindly as possible that the child was quite happy to eat peas and when he’d finished his own he didn’t hesitate to nick them from the next child’s plate), with dogged patience and tact. Yet all the time she felt that she was playing a role to keep herself sane and busy so she wouldn’t have to think about Sean and that brash and beautiful Katinka. She couldn’t think about them, not at work, not if she didn’t want to end up in a corner, sobbing. But … there was surely no way he could have not known Katinka was going to stay with him? ‘Just passing’ would surely have meant at least a phone call, at the very latest the day before? Thea had been gone from the stables for no more than an hour, in which time the girl had had time to get into the house, undress and take a shower. What else had she had time to do, and with Sean? Thea’s insides contracted painfully as she tried not to think about it.