by Alison Bond
Sofia was wearing black fishnet tights and five-inch platforms; her tiny black skirt only just covered her bum, and her platinum hair, which must have been extensions, hung half-way down the back of her tight-fitting box jacket, topped by a jaunty pillbox hat with a cobweb veil covering the top half of her face. The veil had a tiny spider subtly embroidered on the hem. Funeral chic, Kelly thought, and was briefly envious.
Sofia posed for the press like a professional. She didn’t smile. Wouldn’t look too good, you know, Grandma’s funeral and all that. She tried to make eye contact with as many lenses as she could. She spotted one of her favourite photographers and gave him a special little wave and a wink; she’d let him choose which photo to print, they would both be cute. Then she turned round and saw her mother in the distance. Even from this far away Kelly could see Octavia’s face was thunderous.
‘Fellas,’ Sofia said with a baby pout, ‘I have to go now. Would it be okay if you guys waited back over there by the big gate if I promise I’ll stop by on the way out?’
Respectfully the cameras retreated. Sofia swung her blonde hair over one shoulder and prepared to mourn.
The ceremony was swift. A press helicopter hovering overhead swooped down lower and the roar of the blades almost drowned out the service.
A brief recap of Ruby’s achievements started with Viva Romance and ended with Next of Kin, not covering much in between. A prayer was said for her, and another for her family.
My family, kind of, Kelly supposed. Would they send one another birthday cards from now on? She couldn’t see it. She would go back to her average life and they would go on with their extraordinary ones. That was the way it worked.
She couldn’t help staring at Sofia, though she tried not to make it obvious. She’d never been so close to a real-live famous person. It was odd to see the three-dimensional version of the face she’d seen in a hundred magazines; it reminded Kelly of seeing yourself on video instead of in the mirror, something so familiar suddenly looking so novel. When Kelly saw herself on video she usually became aware of a whole new set of flaws.
Sofia was constantly fussing in the large handbag tucked under her arm and Kelly let out a little shriek of surprise when a peculiar-looking creature poked a ratlike head out. What the hell was that? A cat? Some kind of hairless dog? Whatever it was, it was an ugly-looking thing. The subdued congregation all turned in Kelly’s direction and she managed, she hoped, to mask her shriek with a hasty sob. She watched Sofia stroke the pink-grey skin and her flesh crawled. Was she supposed to introduce herself later? Nobody seemed to know who Kelly was, or maybe they did but just didn’t care.
By the end it was obvious that the minister was rushing, so Dolores discreetly suggested to Vincent that he save the poem he was planning to read until the tribute. Vincent scrunched the piece of paper in his hand into a tight ball, clenching his fist until Max placed a soothing hand on his shoulder and whispered something unheard in his ear.
The process of burial seemed almost clinical and lacked the atmosphere that Kelly had been expecting. She thought she would feel something spiritual as they put Ruby in the ground, maybe she would finally cry, but it went by so quickly that before she had time to collect her thoughts it was all over. She felt as if she had let herself down. She’d come all this way, and for what?
Octavia started wailing as the coffin was lowered but Kelly noticed that her lace handkerchief wasn’t even damp at the edges despite being patted to her eyes throughout. Hadn’t anybody truly loved Ruby? That wasn’t a nice thing to know. In fact it was the saddest moment of all. Kelly knew what it was like to be lonely. Perhaps they could have helped each other.
Afterwards cars started to back noisily up to the very edge of the grave, one by one, so that they could whisk everyone past the press. There was an awkward pause as they waited for their transport. Dolores Murillo looked pained by this unexpected and graceless delay. The ceremony was clearly over and the small crowd mingled like at any other party, albeit one with a graveside venue.
Kelly took the chance to speak to the mystery man. After all, she might never see him again. He was deep in thought, staring out at the open land beyond the cemetery, facing away from everyone else there. All she said was ‘Hi.’
He looked confused, which was weird. Had she said something stupid?
‘Tomas Valentine.’
‘Kelly Coltrane.’
It wasn’t quite the kind of introduction she needed and she tried to find the words to ask him ‘Who are you?’ without sounding like an idiot. Luckily he must have been thinking the same thing because he tipped his head to one side and said, ‘Ruby was your grandmother?’
‘My mother, actually,’ she said, and Tomas looked at her with searching eyes that seemed to reach inside her and set off flares. What?’ she said impetuously. ‘Don’t you believe me?’
‘It’s just that you’re so young.’
‘Practically a baby’
They were flirting at a funeral. Not cool. But she very much hoped that they weren’t blood relatives. There was something hypnotic about his lively eyes and Kelly pulled her own away from them because she felt as though she might get lost, just in time to see Octavia heading towards her.
‘Kelly,’ she said. ‘Darling.’ As if they were close. Then her plump lips curled into the worst grimace they could manage. ‘And Tomas. You two know each other?’
We’re old friends,’ said Tomas.
Kelly had a moment to wonder why he would bother to lie, and then she saw the sour expression on Octavia’s face and guessed that he was just trying, successfully, to aggravate her. It should have made her wary but it didn’t.
Octavia turned her back on him, blocking him out of the conversation. ‘Kelly, do you have your own car or would you like to come with us?’
‘I can probably get a cab,’ said Kelly.
Octavia said, ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
Sofia called over from beside her purring limousine. ‘Mother, hello?’ she shouted. ‘I’m waiting.’
‘One moment please, Sofia,’ said Octavia with an edge to her voice that could have sliced meat.
Sofia was standing with one hand on the open car door and the other on her hip, tapping the heel of her shiny black shoe and rolling her eyes towards the sky. Her Siamese rat was moving around inside her shoulder bag, making it bulge alarmingly. Then Sofia screamed so loudly that Kelly physically jumped.
‘Ohmigod, Tomas!’ Sofia ran over with trotting high-heeled steps, grinning like a loon, and embraced him. ‘I didn’t see you,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t say hello.’ She swatted him playfully and immediately her sullen face was transformed with a coquettish smile.
Octavia flinched. ‘Let’s go,’ she said. Kelly could tell she was struggling.
‘Tomas, you’re coming for dinner, right?’ said Sofia. ‘Tell me you’re coming for dinner.’ She looked from Tomas to Octavia and back and forth. Kelly found herself largely ignored and was grateful.
Tomas shrugged. ‘I’d love to.’
Octavia drew her breath quickly and glared at Sofia. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Of course.’ She pushed out a mechanical laugh even though a laugh was hardly appropriate. ‘Perhaps the best thing,’ she said, her mind working as quickly as it could within its limitations, ‘would be if Tomas were to give Kelly a ride back to the house.’
Sofia looked slightly put out, but recognized that dinner was a small victory and didn’t try to build on it. ‘Fantastic,’ she said. ‘Can’t wait.’
Kelly looked at the dynamic between mother and daughter. Did they have anything in common? Her crash course in Ruby had uncovered the fact that Octavia had been scandalously young when she’d given birth. Did that make them closer? Did they fight all the time? Or did they share their deepest secrets under their loving seal?
‘Sofia,’ said Octavia, ‘this is Kelly Coltrane. I told you about her last night.’
‘Yeah, hi.’ Sofia wasn’t bothering to make eye cont
act. Tomas was obviously much more fascinating. ‘So, Tomas, I’ll see you there?’
Tomas nodded and Octavia dragged her daughter away. Sofia left a trail of drool behind her as she went.
‘Kelly Coltrane?’ said Tomas, as if he wanted to be sure to commit the name to memory.
‘The afterthought,’ said Kelly, by way of introduction.
Max was the last to leave the graveside. Before he got into his car he took a white rosebud from his pocket and threw it down on to the fresh earth. It was a sentimental gesture that he knew Ruby would appreciate.
‘I hope you’re happy, baby,’ he said. ‘I hope I didn’t let you down.’
Tomas had a car waiting nearby and Kelly’s story didn’t even take them as far as the cemetery gates. The press concentrated on getting a shot of Sofia in the back of her car. Kelly wondered if they were pissed off that Sofia hadn’t given them the second photo opportunity she had promised.
‘Did you know,’ said Tomas, ‘that there was actually a tiny rumour at the time, some people who said Ruby had a lovechild. A dresser saw some stretch marks or something. But nobody thought it was true. There was always so much bullshit around Ruby Valentine.’
‘And you? I mean, I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?’
‘I’m so sorry I assumed that Octavia would have mentioned me.’
Kelly shook her head and wondered if Tomas was one of those guys who didn’t realize how good-looking he was. Maybe that’s how he wore it so well. There wasn’t a trace of smugness on his perfect features.
‘Octavia’s my half-sister. Dante was our father. After he divorced my mother, Ella, Dante and Ruby had a… thing.’
A marriage, wasn’t it?’
‘I guess you could call it that.’ He shook his head slightly.
Kelly mentally added a new branch to her family tree and was glad to calculate that fancying Tomas was not theoretically incestuous. Not that she would ever do anything, obviously, he was more Sofia’s league. Even on a good day Kelly thought she was a seven, maximum. She could never get a man like Tomas, he was a nine and a half, easy, with his dark good looks and that sexy Italian charm. Oh, and because of Jez of course, technically they were still very much together. She felt a pang of shame that she could think about Jez and consider flirting with a stranger at the same time.
‘What happened to Ella?’ she asked. ‘She isn’t here today?’
‘She got sick,’ said Tomas. ‘And then shortly after that, in the summer of ‘ninety-seven, she passed away’
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Kelly.
‘She hadn’t spoken to Ruby for years, they fell out. She remarried, I’ve got a couple of half-brothers back in England now. They miss her. I miss her too.’
It was shockingly bad taste that the first thing Kelly thought was that they had something in common. No mum. Maybe later they could cry on each other’s shoulders.
Tomas and Kelly reached his car. Was it her imagination or was it the same driver from the airport? In fact, didn’t his eyebrows jump up in recognition as he opened the door for her?
They settled into the back seat where there was an expanse of space between them. No chance of accidental thigh contact, thought Kelly, with a modicum of regret. Bit better than a cab though. Was that a TV screen set into the dividing panel? She half-expected Tomas to open a concealed bar and offer her a drink. Instead he checked his messages on his phone. It took a while. Kelly watched the world through tinted windows and wondered if after this journey she’d ever be satisfied travelling any other way. It was sheer luxury.
Tomas snapped his phone shut. ‘Sorry about that. Where were we?’
Nowhere really. She didn’t want to share her deeply offensive thought about their shared bereavement. Kelly’s mind raced to find some of the sparkling discourse that a man like Tomas must be used to. ‘What do you do?’ she said. Great, Kel, very original
‘I raise private equity out of New York for independent film finance.’
‘Oh. Like a movie studio?’
‘Nothing like a studio. The studio system pays for predictable product. I’m the alternative for film-makers who actually have something new to say’
‘I see,’ she said, though she didn’t really.
‘Films can do one of two things: they can confirm the status quo or they can challenge it. Wouldn’t you rather be challenged?’
She couldn’t agree that she would, hand on heart. Sometimes all you wanted was for someone to reassure you that the world was a good place, full of good people. Maybe it made her naive but Kelly liked a happy ending. Or at least, she still hoped for one.
‘And you?’ he said. ‘What keeps you busy?’
She toyed briefly with the idea of making up a whole new identity to impress him – a sophisticated aristo maybe; didn’t most Americans think that all Brits were related to the Queen of England? – but she didn’t think she would be able to maintain such a complicated deceit. ‘Nothing as interesting as that, I’m afraid. I have a very boring job.’
‘Then perhaps you are in the wrong job.’
Don’t remind me.
‘Do you see much of Octavia?’ she asked, thinking of the only other person they had in common apart from Ruby.
‘Octavia and I don’t get on.’ His face suddenly darkened, but far from being apprehensive Kelly was fabulously excited. When he got passionate about something his eyes flashed like disco lights. ‘Let me ask you something,’ he said. ‘You didn’t know Ruby at all? You never met?’
Kelly shook her head. It was kind of embarrassing.
‘Your mother was a survivor.’
‘That’s exactly what my dad said.’
‘Then he must have known her pretty well. Ruby wouldn’t have killed herself, no way. Not after everything she’d been through.’
They pulled into Octavia’s road. A wide avenue of architecturally mismatched mansions.
‘So what then?’ said Kelly. ‘Are you saying it was accidental?’ The idea of Ruby making a terrible mistake was confusing. Imagine if she had simply lost track of how many pills she had taken, with disastrous results. Maybe she wasn’t even depressed, maybe she was just stupid. So where did that leave Kelly’s new-found sympathy for her?
‘That’s one alternative, yes.’ He said this in a way that made it clear he could think of others, but before she could ask him they had arrived at their destination.
12
Kelly thought the post-funeral dinner was embarrassingly awful for their hostess. It was a terribly mismatched party of people and even Octavia’s much-practised routine was unable to conjure up a shred of atmosphere. Eventually Octavia gave up and drank heavily from the full-bodied red that accompanied their frugal meal.
It was a funeral, so maybe it was supposed to be bleak. But despite the ambiance Kelly still wished she could take a photograph so that she could prove to the girls back at First Fiscal that she was actually there, having dinner in Beverly Hills with a bunch of rich people and Sofia, a genuine celebrity. If only Vincent Valentine had been a more successful actor, her celeb count might have gone up to two. Judging from the conversation she’d overheard, he hoped his mother’s sudden death might give his career the boost it badly needed and didn’t mind how that sounded. Which was sick. Perhaps he had a lot of repressed anger towards his mother that was just coming out wrong.
Given the choice, Kelly would have seated herself next to Tomas and continued her conversation with him, but Sofia latched on to him like a limpet the minute they arrived. Vincent monopolized Max, who looked increasingly drained as each course progressed. Vincent’s wife and children kept themselves to themselves and she kept sneaking glances at her watch. Kelly was stuck talking to Octavia’s husband, James Jarvis, and had no idea how to escape. She heard more about the California real estate market than she would have ever wished to.
‘Everyone keeps saying it’s depressed, it’s depressed, it’s depressed,’ said James.
Kelly knew how they felt.
>
‘But when a sliver of Newport Beach is selling for upward of ten mill, does that sound like a slump to you?’
Kelly thought that if he kept using words like depression and slump she might pass out over her minuscule portion of glazed lamb with coriander relish. Who would ever have imagined that the wealthy Beverly Hills set could be so dull?
James Jarvis had obviously spent a lot of money on his teeth and maybe had had a surgical procedure here and there to neaten his uneven features, but despite all his best efforts, he still had the look of a man who had been dragged from the farm and dressed in a designer suit for a cruel fashion magazine photo spread. As he continued to talk and talk, Kelly’s mind wandered. This was her new sister’s husband? Had he hidden depths, or had his massive fortune been the chief attraction?
‘You obviously like what you do?’ she said.
‘Jarvis Realty: Established 1993.’
Something about the way he said it made her exclaim, ‘Wow!’ Like she was impressed. She caught sight of Tomas. He was listening intently to Sofia, but when he tried to get a word in edgeways she didn’t pause. He saw Kelly watching them and smiled at her. He scraped his fork across his empty plate with an expression of exaggerated hunger, like a starving orphan. A private joke for Kelly alone. She smiled, and it was her first genuine smile for over an hour.
James checked to see what she was looking at. ‘That man,’ he said, ‘should not be at this table.’
‘Why do you say that?’ said Kelly.
‘He’s caused a minor scandal.’
That was fine by Kelly She liked scandal. She had been wondering what it was all about, the bad blood which was flowing around this table, as rich as the red wine.
‘What did he do?’
When his father died, he made a lot of noise about the will. Obviously wasn’t content with his share. Which, I might add, was perfectly fair. It made the tabloids, and it embarrassed all of us.’
