After the Funeral

by Gillian Poucher

  ‘Look,’ he said finally, ‘I don’t want to push you, and I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but surely it would be easier for us to find premises together instead of going our separate ways.’ He paused, drawing up at traffic lights. Looking straight ahead through the spattered windscreen, he added, ‘And we get on well enough, you and me, don’t we?’

  Julia glanced at him. His voice was light, but she sensed he was uncertain in a way she didn’t usually associate with him.

  ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’m sure it would be fine. I’m just not very decisive at the moment. Everything seems a bit much.’ She massaged her temples and sneezed. ‘Mother, the house, the premises, this woman Linda.’ She sighed. ‘Even going to my aunt’s eightieth on Saturday seems like more than I can cope with.’

  Pete turned down the street towards the old school. ‘Your aunt’s eightieth?’

  ‘Yes. She’s not the nicest woman. I could do without it to be honest.’

  ‘Are you going with your brother and sister-in-law?’ Pete pulled in behind Julia’s Mondeo.

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘Oh?’ He glanced at her and switched off the engine.

  Julia kept quiet, again resisting the temptation to tell him about the row with James and his affair. She reached for the door handle.

  ‘Well, if you need some company, a bit of support, I’m free Saturday.’

  ‘Really?’ Julia’s heart lightened as she opened the door. ‘What about – your friend?’

  In the light cast by the street lamp above the car she saw Pete chew his lip, as if pondering his reply.

  ‘That’s not a problem,’ he said after a moment.

  ‘Thanks, Pete. That would be great.’ She climbed out of the car and picked up her laptop and bag.

  ‘No worries,’ he said. ‘And I’ll keep looking at the ads, see if any other offices turn up and let you know. No pressure. How’s that?’

  ‘That sounds good. Thank you.’ She smiled at him as he turned the engine back on. He grinned back.

  ‘No worries,’ he repeated.

  Driving up the street behind him before they parted at the junction, Julia was surprised to realise she was sorry their journey had come to an end. It had been good to have someone to talk to. Even if it was only Pete.

  –  CHAPTER 13  –

  ‘So your aunt didn’t think of changing the venue after you had your mum’s reception here?’ asked Pete.

  ‘Aunt Ada’s not known for her tact.’ Julia gasped as Pete narrowly missed the brick gatepost as he swung his Fiesta into the car park of The Wingate.

  Hearing her, he grinned as he pulled into a parking space. ‘Hey, I never hit anything you know.’ He switched off the engine. ‘But surely it must have crossed her mind it wasn’t the most sensitive idea to insist on holding it here?’

  Julia opened the door and climbed out of the car. ‘Apparently not.’ She tugged at the skirt of her red woollen dress, conscious it had ridden up her thigh. ‘In fact she told my sister-in-law at the funeral that it was very inconsiderate of us to hold the reception here since she’d had her eightieth booked since November.’

  Clare had reported this when she phoned Julia the day before. Julia had been relieved to hear her sounding more composed than she had on Monday, and they had arranged to meet for coffee the following week.

  ‘Charming.’ Pete locked the car and steered her across the wet car park under his umbrella. She sniffed his sage aftershave appreciatively.

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ she said as he opened the pub door for her. ‘You must have had better things to do on a Saturday afternoon.’

  ‘Than come to a cantankerous old woman’s eightieth? Never!’

  She smiled back as she passed into the lounge bar. It was so much easier being in Pete’s company than turning up on her own. She wondered again about the complicated relationship he was involved in. Perhaps she would find out more during the course of the afternoon.

  ‘Can I help you?’ The girl behind the bar, an extremely slim blonde with large blue eyes in a pale face, reminded Julia of someone. Grace. She hoped her new client was having a good week. She’d worked through a lot in their first two sessions.

  ‘We’re here for Mrs Maltby’s lunch.’

  ‘Follow me, please.’ The girl led the way down three steps behind the bar into the dining area where Emily’s reception had been held. Julia noticed her legs were thin as twigs under her black mini-skirt.

  ‘There you are, Julia. And who’s this?’ Aunt Ada was seated to the left of the steps in her wheelchair, wearing the same black dress she had worn at Emily’s funeral. Julia recognised the carer from the funeral too. She had a disconcerting sense of déjà vu and was grateful again for Pete’s presence.

  The old woman plunged on before she had the chance of introducing Pete. ‘I wasn’t aware you were bringing an extra. Most inconsiderate, not to confirm numbers.’

  Julia sighed, placing her gift on a table with the others. ‘The invitation said “To Julia and guest”, Aunt Ada.’

  ‘Did it?’ Aunt Ada narrowed her eyes. ‘I didn’t expect you to find anyone to bring. Not after the last one left. What was his name, Gary? Ian? So who did you say this was?’ She turned her head slowly towards Pete, flicking her grey eyes over him.

  ‘I didn’t,’ said Julia tightly. ‘This is Pete. A colleague.’

  She saw a flicker of something like disappointment pass over Pete’s face before his habitual insouciant smile returned. Perhaps she should have described him as a friend. They had moved beyond colleagues, she realised, over the last week or so.

  ‘Mrs Maltby,’ he said. ‘What a pleasure to meet you.’

  Aunt Ada looked at him sharply. Julia stifled a giggle.

  ‘Humph,’ the old woman sniffed. ‘Well, it’s good of you to accompany Julia, I suppose. It can be very difficult to be unmarried at her age.’

  ‘Don’t you think it can be equally difficult to be married?’ Pete asked the question innocently enough. Aunt Ada drew her shrivelled body up in her wheelchair as far as her osteoperosis would allow. Her lips settled into the thin line Julia had known since childhood.

  ‘What’s she been telling you?’ she asked. She turned to Julia. ‘Have you no sense of dignity, discussing my life with virtual strangers?’

  ‘I haven’t said a word,’ said Julia. ‘And Pete is not a “virtual stranger.” We’ve had neighbouring offices for nearly five years.’

  ‘Hmm. Well, just you mind what you go telling him. And you, young man,’ she turned again to Pete whose mouth was twitching, ‘you should be more respectful of the institution of marriage.’

  ‘I’ve got nothing against marriage,’ said Pete. ‘My mum and dad were happily married for thirty-eight years. But from what you’ve said, I’m guessing not everyone’s so lucky, are they?’

  Ada drew in her breath with a bronchial rattle. ‘That’s none of your business,’ she said. ‘Are you married yourself?’

  ‘No.’ Pete paused and looked unusually serious. ‘But I’d consider it if I met the right woman.’

  ‘And how old are you?’

  ‘Aunt Ada!’

  Pete lay a hand on Julia’s arm. Julia saw her aunt glance at it. She felt reassured by the warm pressure. ‘It doesn’t matter, Jules,’ he said. ‘Fifty-one.’ He grimaced. ‘Unlucky in love, you could say.’

  ‘I’d say if you haven’t married by then, you never will,’ said the old woman. She paused, and then looked at Julia with a spiteful gleam in her eye. ‘Of course Julia’s mother was on her second marriage at that age.’

  ‘Because Daddy had died of his war injuries!’ Julia exclaimed, stung by the snide remark. ‘And she was lucky enough to meet another man who made her happy.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Always popular with the men, was Emily.’ Ada looked down her beaky nose.

  Julia stared at her aunt. She took in the creased face with the papery lines around the mouth and eyes, the neck shrunken into her shoulders above the
curved spine, the worn hands with the protruding veins and swollen fingers. Ada looked more reptilian than ever. Why did you outlive Mother?

  ‘Mother was happily married twice,’ she said.

  Ada raised her head slowly. Her narrow lidded eyes held Julia’s. ‘Happily for her or for her husbands?’

  Beside her Julia sensed Pete stiffen. Her own breath was coming faster. The blood was pounding in her ears again.

  ‘Happily for all of them,’ she said as firmly as she could, though her voice sounded hollow to her own ears.

  ‘Mm.’ The old woman smiled thinly. She lowered her head, suddenly disinterested in the conversation. ‘Wheel me to the table, will you? It’s nearly time to eat. I’ve no idea where that girl’s gone. Call her a carer. Always wandering off.’

  ‘No wonder,’ Pete muttered in Julia’s ear as she pushed the wheelchair across to the centre of the long table where some people were already seated.

  Julia smiled wanly. Ada’s barbed comments had made her think again of William Prescott’s visit forty-one years ago, her mother’s anger towards him in her diary, Linda’s hints at a family secret. She hadn’t heard from Linda since the art exhibition. Someone had rung her phone a few times without leaving a message and Julia had wondered if it were her, or a nervous client.

  ‘Here’s that brother of yours. About time too!’ Ada’s voice recalled Julia to the present as she attempted to steer the wheelchair into a gap between Ada’s niece by marriage and an elderly woman she didn’t recognise.

  Julia didn’t turn round. To an onlooker it would seem she was concentrating on positioning the wheelchair. She wanted to compose herself before facing James. They hadn’t been in contact since their row the previous Sunday.

  ‘Here. Let me.’ Pete’s right hand brushed hers briefly on the handle of the wheelchair. He pushed it into the space.

  ‘Thanks.’ Julia smiled at him.

  ‘No problem.’ He smiled back, stepping away from the table. She noticed again how the smile emphasised the crinkles around his eyes. He turned his head and leaned towards her, his stubble tickling her cheek as he whispered, ‘Now if there’s no place settings, shall we sit as far away from the vicious old bat as possible?’

  She stifled a giggle, suddenly relaxed. ‘Let’s,’ she agreed. She was still avoiding looking towards the doorway, not wanting to catch the eye of James or Clare.

  They sat down opposite one another at the end of the table. Julia nodded to a white-haired couple sitting two chairs along. She recognised them as Ada’s neighbours. They nodded back, before continuing their conversation with two old ladies sitting the other side of them. Snippets filtered down the table above the soft classical music, the clink of glasses and the hum of other voices:

  ‘I’ve been on the waiting list for my new hip since November,’ said the stouter of the two old ladies.

  ‘It makes you wonder what we’ve been paying our taxes for all these years,’ rejoined Ada’s male neighbour.

  Pete and Julia smiled at one another again. ‘Spare me old age,’ he said. ‘Red or white?’

  ‘Red thanks.’ He filled her glass before pouring himself some water from the crystal jug. Out of the corner of her eye Julia watched James and Clare take seats down the other end of the table. She settled back in her chair and took a sip of red wine.

  Pete glanced round. ‘So what’s the story with you and your brother?’ He sipped his water.

  She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and toyed with the stem of her wine glass. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, not meeting his eye.

  ‘That you haven’t looked in his direction since he arrived, and that he’s sitting as far away from us as possible.’

  Julia sighed. ‘It’s complicated,’ she said.

  ‘Complicated?’

  She looked across at him. ‘I don’t really want to talk about it,’ she said. ‘Family. You know.’

  Again she detected a flicker of disappointment pass over his face. Pete had a very open face, she realised. Open and honest. Realising he was watching her watching him she quickly took another gulp of wine.

  ‘Good wine?’

  ‘Yes. But I’d better not drink too much before the food.’

  ‘You just relax this afternoon, Jules. That’s why I offered to drive, give you a chance to chill.’

  ‘Thank you, that’s really kind.’ She smiled across at him again. He smiled back, his blue eyes warm. She was the first to break the eye contact.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said, aiming for a light tone, ‘are you going to tell me about your mystery woman?’

  He hesitated, looking towards the doorway where the last guests were coming in. ‘Not right now,’ he said. ‘Maybe later. Blimey, I thought my mother was the only person who wore one of those old-fashioned black coats and hat these days!’

  Julia followed his gaze and saw Edith stepping carefully down the steps. She laid her present for Ada among the others. Taking off her ancient black coat and hat, she passed them to a waiter, a gangly young man with acne.

  ‘That’s Edith,’ she said. ‘Mother’s neighbour. She goes to church with Aunt Ada.’ Her heart sank. The adjoining seats were the only ones vacant. It would be impossible to relax quietly now over the meal with Pete.

  Edith scanned the room with her beady eyes, waving at Julia when she spotted her. After going across to greet Ada, she came down the table.

  ‘May I?’ Without waiting for a reply, she perched on the cushioned chair next to Pete, her brown eyes darting between the two of them like a bright sparrow’s. ‘I’m so glad to see you have company, dear,’ she said. ‘My friend Madge was supposed to be coming with me, but she had a stroke on Thursday. From what her daughter said when I rang this morning, I don’t think she’s going to recover.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Julia, though it struck her Edith had delivered the news with a certain relish. The old woman’s next words confirmed the impression.

  ‘Thank you. But at my age it’s very much a case of survival of the fittest, you know.’

  Pete spluttered over his glass of water. He dabbed at his mouth with his white linen napkin. Edith seemed not to notice.

  ‘I look through the Family Announcements in The Herald every week to see who I know among the deaths. They bring back memories, you know, people you haven’t thought about or clapped eyes on for years.’

  Julia shivered, remembering her mother’s diary entry of Ada’s call when she found William Prescott’s name among the obituaries.

  ‘I’m sorry, dear,’ said Edith. ‘I shouldn’t be saying all this so soon after your mother… But I am pleased you’ve found someone.’ She smiled, revealing uneven yellowing teeth. ‘Thank you,’ she said as the waiter set down a bowl of tomato soup in front of her. A sprig of basil floated on the top.

  Pete swirled the water in his tumbler and glanced at Julia.

  ‘Oh no,’ she said hastily, ‘it’s nothing like that! Pete and I just rent offices together. We’re colleagues… friends,’ she amended, recalling her glimpse of Pete’s disappointment when she had introduced him as a colleague to Aunt Ada. ‘Tomato and basil, my favourite.’

  ‘Well,’ said Edith comfortably, ‘you never know, do you? Anyway, I wanted to tell you that that woman phoned me this morning.’ She sipped delicately at her soup.

  ‘ “That woman?”’ Julia echoed, hand poised over her napkin. But she knew who Edith meant.

  ‘The artist. She sounded upset, said that she’d been trying to get hold of you but hadn’t been able to. I told her I’d be seeing you here this afternoon and could pass on a message.’

  So Linda had been the caller who hadn’t left messages on the answerphone. Julia finally unfolded her napkin. ‘Did she say why she wanted to speak to me?’

  The old lady shook her white head regretfully. ‘No. She said it was a personal matter. I told her I’d let you know she’d been trying to get in touch when I saw you this afternoon.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Julia frowned as she sipped h
er wine. She wondered what Linda wanted. She hadn’t yet phoned the art gallery where Linda’s exhibition had been held to see if they had contact details for the artist. This wasn’t so much because she hadn’t had time. It was more that she was far from sure she wanted to hear any more from Linda about a family secret. ‘Did she give you a contact number?’ she asked.

  ‘No. I was going to ask, but she rang off. Very worked up, she sounded.’ Edith broke off a piece of her white roll and dipped it in her soup. ‘Not being nosy or anything, but I’ve been thinking it’s strange that she only met your mother and hasn’t bothered with Ada. She’s her cousin too, isn’t she?’

  ‘I suppose so. Unless she was satisfied enough with meeting Mum. It’s not like a close relationship, is it, second cousins?’

  ‘Mmm. Unless,’ Edith lowered her voice and leaned across the table towards Julia, ‘unless this Linda person isn’t who she says she is.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Julia.

  Her tone was sharper than she intended, and the old lady’s hand jerked, spilling a spoonful of soup on to the white tablecloth. Pete dabbed his napkin in his water and unsuccessfully tried to mop up the orange stain.

  ‘Well, you do hear of these people befriending the lonely elderly, don’t you?’ said Edith. ‘Working their way into their affections?’

  ‘But Mother wasn’t lonely!’ said Julia, though she knew with a pang this wasn’t true. How often had she dropped off her mother’s shopping without having time for a cup of tea? If only she could have those last few months back… She took a long draught of wine, aware that she was getting a little tipsy.

  ‘Of course you and James visited,’ said Edith, ‘but time does hang heavy when you’re old, you know. You young people are so busy with your own lives. And I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but your mother was quite retiring, wasn’t she?’

  ‘Yes,’ admitted Julia. Emily had always seemed content with immediate family members and a few close friends. Unlike Ada, she didn’t attend church. Nor had she involved herself in village events in the way Julia knew her father would have done had he lived into old age. Leonard had been a pillar of the community even as a young man. ‘But why would Linda target Mother?’ she asked.