by Ruth Hogan
“Ladies and gentlemen, this one’s for Bomber!”
He sat back down and a frisson of anticipation shivered through the assembly. Gavin looked at Eunice and winked.
“Showtime!” he whispered.
There was a single, thrilling chord and then from somewhere at the back of the room, a man’s voice singing softly, accompanied only by a piano. The voice came from a staggeringly handsome man wearing an immaculate dinner suit and a subtle sweep of eyeliner, who was indeed his own special creation. The opening bars of “I Am What I Am” from La Cage aux Folles floated up into the hushed air and Gavin rubbed his hands together in delight.
As the singer made his way down the center of the room and the tempo of the song picked up, he too picked up . . . six showgirls seated strategically at the end of rows nearest the aisle. Each one stood in turn and shed a respectable coat to reveal a risqué costume, lavish jewels, and astonishing tail feathers. Eunice was amazed that they had been able to sit on them. By the time the gorgeous creature and his extraordinary entourage had reached the front of the room, the song was approaching its climax. He turned in front of the urn to face his audience and belted out the final lines while his chorus line high-kicked in unison behind him. With the final, defiant note, all but one person in the room erupted into a spontaneous standing ovation. Portia simply passed out.
Gavin basked unashamedly in his triumph all the way to the country churchyard in Kent where the biscuits were to be buried next to Grace and Godfrey. Portia had provided a cavalcade of black stretch limousines to transport everyone, but Eunice and Gavin chose to travel independently, listening to show tunes and eating salt and vinegar crisps in Gavin’s Audi convertible. Eunice felt slightly guilty about Godfrey and Grace being forced to share their grave with an urn of assorted biscuits under false pretenses, but she was hopeful that, given the circumstances, they would understand that it had been unavoidable. As they pulled into the very churchyard where Eunice had promised to carry out Bomber’s final wishes, Eunice confessed everything to Gavin.
“Holy Mary, mother of God, and Danny La Rue in a shoe box!” he exclaimed. “My poor darling girl, what on earth are you going to do now?”
Eunice checked her hat in the rearview mirror and reached for the door handle.
“I have absolutely no bloody idea whatsoever.”
CHAPTER 48
Shirley switched on the computer and checked the messages on the answer machine. It was Monday morning, and Mondays were always busy because of all the strays that were brought in over the weekend. She had worked at Battersea Dogs’ and Cats’ Home for fifteen years now and had seen a lot of changes. But one thing never changed; the strays kept coming. The post had already arrived and Shirley began sorting through the pile of envelopes. One envelope was addressed in fountain pen. The writing was in a sweeping, extravagant hand and Shirley was curious. Inside was a handwritten letter.
To Whom It May Concern,
Please find enclosed a donation in memory of my beloved brother, who has recently died. He was very fond of dogs and adopted two from your establishment. The only condition that I attach to said donation is that you erect a plaque in his memory in some public place in your grounds. It should read:
IN LOVING MEMORY OF BOMBER, A PRECIOUS SON, AN ADORED BROTHER, A LOYAL FRIEND, AND A DEVOTED DOG LOVER.
Rest in Peace with Douglas and Baby Jane.
I shall send my representative in due course to ensure that these instructions have been carried out in a satisfactory manner.
Yours faithfully,
Portia Brockley
Shirley shook her head in disbelief. Damn cheek! It was true that all donations were gratefully received, but a plaque like that would cost a pretty penny. She turned her attention to the check that was attached rather quaintly by a paper clip to the letter and nearly fainted. There were so many naughts that it looked as though the two at the beginning of the figure had been blowing bubbles.
CHAPTER 49
Laura felt as though she were poised on the brink of a precipice and didn’t know whether she was going to fall or fly. She had made sure that she was going to be alone today. Sunshine was having a rare day out with her mum and she hadn’t seen Freddy since her shameful outburst in the rose garden. She had tried ringing him, but his phone went straight to voice mail, where she had left a groveling and heartfelt apology, but it seemed it was too late. She had heard nothing in reply and Freddy had not been back to Padua since that night. She couldn’t think what else to do. Sunshine kept telling her that Freddy would come back, but Laura knew now he wouldn’t. She had slept fitfully and woke stranded in a no-man’s-land somewhere between excitement and foreboding. The house felt oppressive. Even Carrot was restless; pacing up and down, his nails clicking on the tiles. As Laura prepared for her visitor, she had a feeling that the storm was about to break. Padua had been very quiet for the past few days. The door to Therese’s bedroom remained locked from the inside and there had been no music. But it was not the kind of quiet that came with peace and contentment. It was a bitter silence brought on by desolation and defeat. Laura had failed Therese, and in so doing, she had failed Anthony. His final wishes remained unfulfilled.
Someone was coming to collect the ashes in the biscuit tin. They had been claimed. Laura hadn’t told Sunshine and it wasn’t just because of the bet. She wanted to do this alone. She couldn’t explain why, even to herself, but it was important. The doorbell rang at precisely two o’clock, the agreed hour of their appointment, and Laura opened the door to a small, slim woman in her sixties, stylishly dressed and wearing a cobalt-blue trilby.
“I’m Eunice,” she said.
As Laura took the hand she was offered, she felt the tension that had gripped her melt away.
“Would you like tea, or perhaps something stronger?” asked Laura. For some unfathomable reason, it felt as though they had something to celebrate.
“Do you know, I’d actually love a stiff drink. I never dared to hope that I would ever get him back, and now I’m about to, frankly, I feel a tad wobbly.”
They settled on gin and limes in Anthony’s honor, and took them through to the garden, collecting the biscuit tin from the study on the way. As Eunice sat nursing her drink in one hand and the biscuit tin in the other, her eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. I’m just being a complete silly arse. But you have no idea how much this means to me. You have just mended a foolish woman’s broken heart.”
She took a sip from her drink and then a deep breath.
“Now, I expect you want to know what this is all about?”
Eunice and Laura had exchanged several e-mails via the website, but they had only covered sufficient details to establish that it was actually Eunice who had lost the ashes.
“Are you sitting comfortably?” she asked Laura. “I’m afraid it’s rather a long story.”
Eunice began at the beginning and told Laura everything. She was a natural storyteller and Laura was surprised that she had never written anything herself. The abduction of Bomber’s ashes from the funeral directors had Laura in tears of laughter, laughter which Eunice could at last share, now that she had got Bomber back.
“It all went splendidly until I got on the train,” she explained.
“At the station after I got on, I was joined in the carriage by a woman with two small children, who had obviously overdosed on sweets and fizzy pop, judging by the tide marks around their mouths and their uncontrollable behavior. Their poor mother could barely keep them in their seats, and when the little girl announced that she ‘needed a wee right now!’ the mother asked me if I could possibly keep an eye on her brother while she took the little girl to the toilet. I could hardly say no.”
Eunice took a sip of her drink, and hugged the biscuit tin closer to her side as though she might lose it again.
“The little boy sat in his seat poking his tongue out at me just until his mother was out of sight and then leaped to his feet and
made a run for it. Sod’s law helpfully ensured that this was just as the train was pulling into a station, and I wasn’t quick enough to stop him jumping off the train when the doors opened, and so I was forced to follow him. I had my bag over my arm, but by the time I realized I had left Bomber in his seat, it was too late.”
Eunice shuddered at the memory.
“I’m sure you can imagine the pandemonium that followed. The mother was beside herself, wildly accusing me of kidnapping her son. Frankly, I was only too glad to give the little bugger back. I was absolutely frantic about leaving Bomber on the train and reported it straightaway, but by the time the train had reached Brighton, he was gone.”
Laura topped up their glasses.
“It’s an unusual name, Bomber.”
“Oh, that wasn’t his real name. His real name was Charles Bramwell Brockley. But I never knew anyone to call him that. He was always Bomber. And he would have loved you,” she said to Carrot, gently stroking his head, which was by now resting in her lap. “He loved all dogs.”
“And he was a publisher, you say? I wonder if he ever crossed paths with Anthony. He was a writer; short stories in the main. Anthony Peardew.”
“Oh yes,” Eunice replied. “That’s a name I remember well. His is a great story, you know; Anthony and Therese, the study full of his collection, the website. There has to be a book in it.”
Laura thought about her schoolgirl dreams of being a writer and smiled wistfully. Too late for all that now.
Eunice was still hugging the biscuit tin tightly to her side.
“Do you still work in publishing?” Laura asked her.
Eunice shook her head.
“No, no. My heart wasn’t in it after Bomber . . .” Her voice trailed away. “But if you’re ever interested in giving the book a go, I’d be very happy to help. I still have contacts and I could recommend you to some agents.”
The two women sat in silence for a while, enjoying their drinks, the scent of the roses, and the peace and quiet of a sunny afternoon.
“And what about you, Laura?” Eunice finally spoke. “Do you have someone in your life—someone you love like I loved Bomber?”
Laura shook her head.
“I did, until a few days ago. But we had a fight.”
She paused, thinking about what had actually happened.
“Okay. I started an argument; a pathetic, ridiculous, puerile argument. Well, it wasn’t even an argument, because he didn’t argue back. He just stood there listening to me rant on like a hysterical half-wit before I flounced off. I haven’t seen him since.”
Laura was slightly surprised at the relief she felt from simply saying it out loud.
“My name is Laura and I’ve been a complete bloody idiot.”
“You’re very hard on yourself, my dear.”
Eunice squeezed her hand and smiled.
“But you love him?”
Laura nodded miserably.
“Then talk to him.”
“I’ve tried. But he never answers his phone and I can’t say I blame him. I was spectacularly horrible. I’ve left messages saying I’m sorry, but he obviously isn’t interested anymore.”
Eunice shook her head.
“No, that’s not what I meant. Talk to him, not his phone. Find him and tell him to his face.”
Suddenly Eunice reached inside her bag and took out a small box.
“I almost forgot,” she said. “I brought you something for the website. I found it all those years ago on the way to my interview with Bomber. I’ve always kept it as a sort of lucky charm. I never really gave a thought to the person who must have lost it. But now it seems only fair that you should have it. I know it’s a long shot, but maybe you might be able to find whom it really belongs to.”
Laura smiled. “Of course, I’ll try. I just need to make a note of any details you can remember.”
Eunice didn’t even need to think about it. She rattled off the day, date, time, and location without hesitation. “You see,” she said, “it was one of the best days of my life.”
Laura took the box from Eunice.
“May I?” she asked.
“Of course.”
As Laura took the medallion from the box, she knew for just a moment what it felt like to be Sunshine. The object in her hand spoke to her just as surely as if it had a voice of its own.
“Are you all right?” Eunice sounded as though she was very far away, speaking down a bad phone line. Laura scrambled to her feet, unsteadily.
“Come with me,” she said to Eunice.
The door to Therese’s bedroom swung easily open and Laura placed the Communion medallion, with its tiny picture of St. Therese of the Roses framed in gold, on the dressing table next to the photograph of Anthony and Therese. The little blue clock, which had stopped, as usual, began ticking again of its own accord. Laura held her breath, and for a moment the two women stood in silence. And then downstairs, in the garden room, the music began, softly at first and then louder and louder.
The Very Thought of You.
Eunice watched in astonishment as Laura punched the air with joy, and through the open window there blew a swirling shower of rose petals.
As Laura walked Eunice to the garden gate, Freddy pulled up outside the house in his battered Land Rover and jumped out. He greeted Eunice politely and then looked to Laura.
“We need to talk.”
Eunice kissed Laura on the cheek and winked at Freddy.
“That’s exactly what I said.”
She closed the gate behind her and walked away smiling.
CHAPTER 50
The five of them walked together along the promenade; Eunice and Gavin arm in arm carrying Bomber, Douglas, and Baby Jane in a striped canvas shopping bag. Eunice had been going to go alone, but Gavin wouldn’t hear of it. When Bomber had first been forced into Happy Haven, he had asked Gavin to keep a friendly lookout for Eunice, but Gavin hadn’t known how to do so without offending Eunice’s notoriously independent spirit. However, since the memorial service, when Eunice had made her full and frank confession, Gavin had found a chink in her armor and was using it to keep his word to Bomber. It was a perfect seaside day; bright and breezy with a sky the color of blue curaçao. Gavin had left the Audi at home and they had traveled by train so that they could both toast soon-to-be-absent friends thoroughly and with impunity.
Eunice wanted the entire day to be a proper memorial for Bomber, and so they were following the time-honored itinerary. As they strolled toward the pier they met a young couple walking a pair of miniature pugs wearing his-and-hers diamante collars. Eunice couldn’t resist stopping to admire them. The two little dogs submitted to appropriate fuss and compliments before trotting happily on their way. Gavin looked at Eunice’s downcast face and gave her arm a squeeze.
“Chin up, old girl. It won’t be long before Bill Bailey comes home.”
Eunice was finally permitting herself to adopt a dog. She had always intended to do this after Bomber died, but then, when she had lost his ashes, she somehow felt she didn’t deserve one. She had to honor her obligations to old friends before she could allow herself a new one. The black-and-white collie with a white blaze and black spots had been kept on the end of a chain outside a shed for most of his miserable life, and the staff at Battersea had not been optimistic about his chances of rehabilitation. But the little dog had a big, brave heart and was willing to give the world another chance. The staff named him Bill Bailey after the song, for luck, in the hope that he would find the perfect person to come home to. And he had. Eunice. As soon as she saw him, she fell for his pointy ears and his big, dark eyes. He was wary at first, but after a couple of visits he had decided that Eunice was the one for him and deigned to lick her hand. Next week, he would be hers for good.
Eunice and Gavin took it in turns to carry the shopping bag. To start with, Eunice had been reluctant to part with it, but the combined remains of her three friends were surprisingly heavy and she was glad for Gavin to
take a turn.
“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed. “We should have put them in one of those tartan shopping trolley affairs that old ladies push instead of a bag.”
Eunice shook her head emphatically.
“You must be joking! And make me look like an old lady?” she retorted.
Gavin winked at her. “Don’t worry. You don’t look a day over forty, old girl.”
Inside the amusement arcade, it was hot and noisy and the air was thick with the smell of hot dogs, donuts, and popcorn. By the expression on Gavin’s face, he thought Eunice had lured him into Babylon. The colored lights spun and flashed in frantic synchronicity with the buzzers and bells. The money clinked into the machines and clattered out; although the former much more frequently than the latter. As one of Gavin’s best brogues slipped on a squashed chip he looked ready to flee, but Eunice filled his hand with coins and nodded toward Bomber’s favorite machine.
“Come on, you, get stuck in! Bomber loved this one.”
As Eunice posted a coin into the slot, she remembered the confusion on Bomber’s face the last time they were there; but then how quickly it had been replaced with a smile when she had come to his rescue. Today was for happy memories, not sad ones. Eunice made Gavin stick it out for almost half an hour, by the end of which he was almost enjoying himself. Against all the (most likely fixed) odds, he won a small and very ugly teddy bear on a claw game machine which he proudly presented to Eunice as a gift. As she inspected the lopsided bear’s comical face, she had an idea.
“We should buy a souvenir for each of them,” she said, holding up the striped bag.
In one of the kiosks on the pier, they found a key ring in the shape of a donut for Douglas. In a shop in the Lanes, Gavin spotted an antique Staffordshire china pug.
“He looks like a boy dog to me,” said Gavin, “but perhaps Baby Jane would prefer that.”
They had fish and chips for lunch and Gavin ordered a bottle of champagne for them to toast the contents of the striped bag, which had its own chair. Eunice was determined not to let it out of her sight for a single moment. The champagne gave her the courage to face what she had to do next. She had to let them go. The Pavilion sparkled white in the sunlight and its domes and spires billowed and pricked the sky.
