Tin Men: A Gripping Chrissy Livingstone Novel

by Linda Coles

  “Come in,” Chrissy shouted through the door. Tentatively, even though he knew he wasn’t going to say anything about the letter, he opened the door and smiled at the back of the head of his beautiful wife. She was at her laptop typing. She finished off a sentence before turning to give him a dazzling smile as she always did. Chrissy was one beautiful lady, he thought again.

  “Hey,” Adam said. “What’re you up to?”

  “Just finishing some paperwork. I have that conference soon and I need to be up to date before I go.”

  “Where is it this time?” Adam asked. He was used to Chrissy going away occasionally, often abroad.

  “West coast of the US of A,” she said in a mock American accent, sounding like one of the cast from Gone with the Wind. Her southern drawl amused him and he smiled at her effort, raising his eyebrows comically. Georgia was nowhere near the west coast.

  “Again,” she added. “Most of these things seem to be. I don’t mind, though; the sun is always out on the west coast. What do you need, hun?” she enquired.

  “Oh, you know, just seeing how my favourite woman is after an emotionally stressful day. It can’t be easy losing your father, but I must say you’re handling it remarkably well.”

  “You know me—emotionally detached from my family where possible.” She smiled wryly.

  Adam was aware of family feuds in the past, some more bitter than others. Chrissy had only recently begun speaking with either of her parents again after a disagreement about Adam a couple of years ago. They had, however, started to heal the old wounds.

  “How is Julie? She seemed a little dazed. As did your mum.”

  “She’s just Julie; nothing changes there. Everything is a drama, hanky at the ready. But her looking after Mum is probably doing her good, giving her something to focus on. Two people in the house can’t both be in the same down place. When one is up, the other one is down, then the other way around. That’s how it works; they’ll bounce off each other for a couple of days, no doubt. Being together could do them good.”

  “Well, like I said, I think you’re being remarkable,” said Adam, “but you’re always remarkable at everything, so why am I surprised?” He ran his fingers through the back of her hair and she looked up into his eyes. They were still the lovebirds they had been when they’d first got married.

  “I’m only remarkable because you support me the way you do, and I thank you for that,” she said. “Anyway, enough of the mushy stuff. Fancy a cup of hot chocolate? I just have a yearning for one.”

  Adam checked his watch. It was nearly 8 PM. It would mean a trip to the loo during the night. Oh well. “Why not?” he said. “I’ve not had one in ages.”

  Christie closed the laptop lid and stood quickly, pecking him on the nose. She took hold of one hand and led him out of her den towards the stairs. As they walked, the low bass of both boys’ music could be heard from behind their closed doors, the deep throbbing of a dance beat. Since Chrissy and Adam were now some way past their teens it wasn’t their kind of thing. Still, the boys needed their own space, and giving them theirs was part of raising two intelligent, well-mannered young men. Downstairs, Chrissy closed the kitchen door behind herself and Adam, and the boom boom boom could hardly be heard.

  “I don’t know how they can listen to that all the time,” Adam said wearily. “Perhaps I’m getting old.”

  “No, you only sound old. We were no different when we were their age. We just weren’t allowed to play our music so loud. Well, not in my house anyway.” Chrissy busied herself filling mugs with milk and placing them both in the microwave. Adam grabbed the drinking chocolate from the cupboard along with a half packet of Hobnobs. Taking one from the pack and offering Chrissy one, he changed the subject back to the funeral.

  “So, what have you still got left to organise?” Adam asked, crumbs falling to the floor as he bit into a biscuit and it broke awkwardly. The microwave whirred in the background.

  “Not much on my side, to be honest. Julie is taking most of it on. I’ve got work and she’s only got spa. Give her something meaningful to do for a change.” There was no malice in her voice, and it was the truth. Julie really did not have anything important to fill her day with, and every day was the same. It would drive Chrissy nutty.

  “Well, I think, when the funeral is over, we should head away for a weekend somewhere, just two of us. What do you reckon?”

  “Sounds good. Anywhere in mind?”

  “Oh, I thought there might be a music festival on somewhere. We could go and hang out by the beach for the weekend.”

  The microwave pinged; their milk was hot. Chrissy smiled at his suggestion, knowing full well he was only joking about the music aspect. Shame; she enjoyed music, even dance music, and a festival would be fun.

  Adam would have hated it, though.

  Chapter Seven

  The next five days went by in a flash. On the morning of the funeral, Chrissy looked stunning in her simple black dress, her hair tied into a loose knot behind her head. She wore simple stud pearl earrings, just like her mother undoubtedly would. She sat in front of her dressing table mirror and applied the last of her tinted lip gloss, rubbing her lips together.

  Adam watched from the doorway. The day would probably be hard on Chrissy and the rest of the family, he knew, as funerals inevitably were. He looked as handsome as ever in a dark fitted suit. In a low voice he said, “Everyone’s here. We’re ready.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Chrissy said and stood gracefully, glancing back at the mirror one more time before approaching Adam. She slipped her arm through his and he slowly led her back through the doorway and downstairs. From the bottom of the stairs, Chrissy could see a gathering of people, or, really, the hats of the gathering of people. And the sea of hats was all black. She wondered why people felt the need to wear a hat at weddings or funerals. Perhaps she’d missed a tradition along the way; she wasn’t wearing one herself.

  It’s a funeral, remember?

  Yes, but does it matter?

  They went through to the lounge; through the tall bay window, she could see a group of black cars waiting outside. The hearse was parked out front and four sombre-looking gentlemen stood nearby. They belonged to the funeral parlour and were ready to look substantially more sombre and mournful when the family were ready to leave.

  “Would you like a quick drink before we go?” Adam asked.

  “Right now, Adam, I would love a wine but I don’t think it would be appropriate. And it’s a bit early, though I expect it’s got to be five PM somewhere in the world.” She managed a weak smile, and Adam squeezed her shoulder affectionately. Someone came up behind them, and given the cloying smell of the perfume, Chrissy figured it would be an older relative. She was right.

  “Chrissy, darling,” the woman said, as Chrissy turned and fixed her weak smile back on her face.

  “Hello, Clara. Good to see you!” Chrissy said almost too cheerily for the occasion, and she meant it. Clara had been a friend of the family since Chrissy had worn nappies, and used to push Chrissy in her pram when she was a tiny girl. To her mother’s annoyance, Clara had inevitably had a biscuit or two for Chrissy in her handbag, meaning the pram had always been covered in crumbs and prints from chocolatey little fingers. Chrissy being Chrissy, she bent in close to the older woman’s ear.

  “I don’t suppose you have a chocolate biscuit in your bag, do you, Clara?”

  Clara laughed lightly as Chrissy turned to introduce her to Adam.

  “Adam, this is Clara. I don’t think you have ever met her. Clara was always a bugger for giving me a biscuit in my pram and pissing Mum off.” She smiled warmly, and Clara and Adam both smiled in return.

  “In that case, I’m pleased to meet you Clara,” said Adam. He reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle shake.

  “And nice to meet you Adam, though on such a sombre occasion. I’m sure there will be time afterwards to chat more over a sherry.” She winked at Adam, who, ever the gentl
eman, bowed slightly and replied, “Then I will look forward to it.”

  The conversation was interrupted by an announcement from the front doorway that the procession was almost ready to leave, and people began to filter out into the driveway, Chrissy, Adam and Clara included.

  Clara bent in to whisper in Chrissy’s ear. “Thank goodness it’s not raining. I hate rainy funerals. It makes it even more depressing.”

  Chrissy could only smile. It was true; there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Birds tweeted cheerfully from nearby trees and bushes, adding their own chorus to her father’s other big day. Shame he wasn’t able to see it, to enjoy it, Chrissy thought, though she felt he was with them in spirit.

  She thought uneasily of his body in its wooden box that would soon be turned to nothing more than ashes. But that had been her father’s wish. He hadn’t wanted to rot in the ground; he’d wanted to have a warm sending-off.

  It would be warm, all right.

  Damn hot, actually, Chrissy.

  She’d seen a joke earlier on Facebook saying, “The only time I’ll ever have a smoking-hot body is when they take me to the crematorium.”

  It had made her laugh out loud then, and she fought off the urge to giggle again now. Her father would have loved that.

  Car doors slammed shut noisily as people filled the waiting cars, and the sound of voices finally ceased. Chrissy felt Adam steer her gently towards their appointed car, and it was only as she approached it that she noticed Julie and her mother were already seated inside, ready to go. Julie’s husband, Richard, had made his own excuses not to attend and so the two women sat alone. Chrissy bowed her head in thanks to the funeral home staff who was holding the door open for her and climbed in. Adam sat in the front seat beside the driver.

  The car was now full. Nobody said a word, and Chrissy didn’t catch anybody’s eye. She turned and gazed out the window; it was the safest place to look, and she had her own thoughts to keep her company. The driver took his seat and the car moved forward, headed towards the tiny church in the centre of the village.

  They could have walked, in reality. It wasn’t far, but with older relatives and mourning family members to take into account, the short drive was more appropriate. The drive took precisely three minutes. While it wasn’t the longest three minutes of Chrissy’s life, it felt right up there. Adam reached between the seats, took her hand and squeezed it gently. As their car pulled to a standstill, Chrissy fought to control the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks; it was all so final now.

  Out in the front of the church, on the small lawn where the summer garden market took place, there wasn’t a blade of grass without a foot on it. There were cars of all descriptions parked on grass verges, in the church car park and as far as the eye could see down side roads. It was fair to say there were people everywhere. She knew her father had been popular, had lived in the village most of his life, but hadn’t realised just how many people he had known. From the gathering, you would have thought a local celebrity was in town.

  And perhaps there was.

  You will always be a celebrity to me, Dad.

  She and Adam climbed out of the car and began to walk towards the church, Adam tall and strong by her side. Julie and her mother climbed out the other side of the car; they still hadn’t spoken a word to her. Likely, they were struggling with their own thoughts, their own grief, Chrissy thought. She could hear the sound of an organ coming from inside the church, though she had no clue what the tune was, not being a regular churchgoer. Julie and her mother had decided on the hymns to be sung—slaughtered, more likely—by relatives and acquaintances during the service.

  The crowd made its way inside the cool stone church that had stood centre stage in the village for more than a hundred and fifty years. Chrissy and Adam took their seats in the pew at the front of the church. She wished Thomas and Harry were with them, but they had asked to be excused from attending, and Chrissy and Adam had decided there was no point in forcing them. What good would it do? They were good kids, and they would pay their respects in their own way; they didn’t need to be in church beside their grandad’s casket to do it.

  She turned towards the front of the room now as the vicar took his place. The organ music drew to a close and conversation ceased.

  Gerald Baker’s funeral service was now in progress.

  Chapter Eight

  Julia and Mum had done well. Chrissy guessed, rightly so, that Gerald had left a detailed will of what he wanted to happen at his funeral, and they had done him proud. “A warm send-off,” it had said and that’s what he’d gotten.

  The hymn he’d chosen to be played at the end of the service was All Things Bright and Beautiful. It was not a common choice for a funeral, more a wedding or christening, but her father had never wanted people to limp along singing songs they didn’t know. Chrissy made a mental note she’d quite like the same hymn at her own funeral. She must mention it to Adam—and they must update their own wills.

  When the service was over, the sea of black hats made their way to the front door and back out into the sunshine. Preferring to keep herself to herself, Chrissy guided Adam away to the side and under a shady tree. She didn’t feel much like socialising. It was an odd place to be social, a funeral, though there would be plenty of time for small talk over more gin and tiny sandwiches later.

  Adam spoke first. “That was nice, Chrissy, wasn’t it?” he said gently. “Great last hymn.”

  “Yes, it was,” she conceded. “Mum and Julie did a good job; I knew they would. I wish the boys had been here, though, don’t you?”

  “I know what you mean, but there was no point in making them come. They will remember him in their own way.”

  While they stood, Chrissy people watched for something to do other than interact with a bunch of strangers. There were many people she didn’t know, of course. But someone took her interest. Through the canopy of black hats, she noticed a single man on his own, leaning by a car. Why she’d noticed him she’d no idea, and as she watched him, she couldn’t think why he stuck out to her other than that he, too, was alone. He looked like any other man there—dark suit, sombre expression—but somehow, he stood out. She nudged Adam and nodded towards him.

  “Any idea who that is?” she asked. Adam looked but didn’t recognise the man either.

  “No idea. I guess he knew your father, like most people here. You don’t get many funeral crashers.”

  That made Chrissy smile. “You’re as bad as me,” she said, stifling a giggle.

  Adam squeezed her affectionately and glanced towards the man again. “But seriously, why do you pick him out? There’s plenty of people here you don’t know.”

  “I know. But there’s just something about him. It’s almost as if he’s…” She searched for the word. “…browsing. Watching people. Seems odd.”

  “Aren’t you doing that?”

  “Yes. But I’m family, I’m his daughter. I’m allowed to watch people and be on my own.”

  They fell into a comfortable silence together and watched the crowd some more; Chrissy kept one eye on the man by the car. A moment later, he turned in their direction and looked straight at Chrissy. Their eyes locked for a moment, but the man’s face remained unchanged; not a muscle moved. It was unnerving. Surely he’d give a tiny smile, a nod of recognition, something?

  The man looked away again, then dropped the cigarette he’d been smoking and stubbed it out in the dirt. He opened the driver’s side of the car he’d been leaning against, climbed in and started the engine. Without a backwards glance, he drove slowly away down the lane, which was packed with parked cars.

  “See? I told you,” Chrissy said. “As soon as he saw me watching him, he took off and I bet he’s not going to the crematorium.”

  “I wouldn’t pay any attention to him,” Adam said. “Your dad knew so many people there are bound be some here that you don’t know.”

  From the corner of her eye Chrissy could see Julie approaching them both. He
r black hat was somewhat bigger than everybody else’s and it was hard not to miss the stiff blonde waves peeping out from underneath. As she got closer Chrissy could see that she had been crying. She extended her arms to greet her and Julie slipped between them. The two women hugged as more black hats milled about nearby.

  Finally, Julie pulled away and dabbed her eyes. “Who was that?” she said, inclining her head in the direction the car had gone.

  “That’s just what Adam and I were discussing. He stuck out to you as well, did he?”

  “He did, actually, yes. Don’t know why. He was quite good looking, though.”

  “I don’t know about that part. Anyway, he’s gone now. I doubt we’ll see him again.”

  Changing the topic, Julie said, “It’s time to go anyway. Are you coming in our car? We’re setting off now if you want to ride with us.”

  “Of course we are,” Chrissy said, smiling slightly. “Our car is back at the house.”

  The three of them made their way back towards the car they’d arrived in. The black hats were thinning out now, with those who had come just for the church service making their way home or on to the pub to make an early start on refreshments. Chrissy hoped the sandwiches wouldn’t be put out until later. She hadn’t felt like eating at lunchtime, but her stomach was now starting to grumble for sustenance.

  The service at the crematorium was short, almost perfunctory, and they all said their final goodbyes to Gerald Baker.

  Chrissy hoped the staff would wait until everybody had left the grounds before they struck the match. She had no desire to see the smoke billowing from the chimney. Shivering, she made her way back to the car, tucking herself under Adam’s arm for comfort.

  Chapter Nine