EPISODE TWENTY-SIX

Tense and numb with grief, Maggie, Craig, their mother and father, and the two children squeezed into the first car.
‘I don’t want them to burn Dad,’ moaned Daryl.  ‘Why can’t they bury him?’
His grandmother stroked his hair and said softly but firmly, ‘Your mum’s already explained, Daryl. Now be a good boy. It’s what Daddy would have wanted.’
Maggie glanced at the car behind, containing her in-laws and Gary’s younger brother Malcolm. She thought she saw Malcolm looking at his watch, and wondered if he regretted his brother’s funeral because of the inconvenience of missing a day when the money markets promised potentially good pickings.
Gary always wanted to be like Malcolm,’ she told Craig, incongruously.
‘Malcolm’ll burn himself out before long,’ replied Craig, immediately regretting the choice of words.
‘Still,’ Maggie sniffed, ‘I’m glad he didn’t insist on bringing his Porsche.’
‘I wanted to come in Uncle Malc’s Porsche,’ said Daryl.
Hannah glared at her brother.
At the crematorium the mourners were ushered into a cramped waiting room, as airless as a hothouse.. Time seemed to be suspended.. Maggie found the situation as unreal as her sleepless nights. She went through the motions of playing the part of the grieving widow.  She thought of it as a performance.  A scene from a film. Especially when they were inside the chapel. The slow march down the aisle. Craig and Malcolm as two of the pallbearers. And the ancient chaplain, coughing, wheezing, and mopping his brow with a grubby handkerchief, struggling to his feet to begin the service.
‘We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of...’
It was as far as he got. Suddenly his eyes rolled heavenwards, and his hands shot up, as if he was having a gospel experience. Then he fell to the floor.
The horrified mourners stood frozen for a moment.  Then two of the undertaker’s men dashed from the back of the chapel. One of them whispered urgently: ‘It must be his heart.’
Malcolm, man of action, whipped out his mobile and said, ‘Where can I get another vicar? Now!’
‘Call for an ambulance first,’ snapped the undertaker’s man.
Following this hitch in Gary’s last moments before being consumed, his mourners were ushered back to the waiting room, although most of them waited outside. An ambulance arrived and took the first chaplain away. Fifteen lifelong minutes ticked away before another chaplain could be found. By now the funeral was running almost thirty minutes late, so Gary was dispatched with one quick prayer, and it was all over.
As they left the crematorium, they stopped at the gates to let another hearse in. Maggie stared at one of the chief mourners in the car following it and burst into tears.
As soon as they were back at the house Craig took Maggie gently to one side and asked if she was okay.
‘I’ll be alright,’ she responded. ‘It was the other funeral...that arrived as we were leaving. It was Sharon’s. I recognized her mother. She used to come in the chip shop at Maidstone.’
Craig frowned. ‘But why the funeral in this neck of the woods? If they live Maidstone way...’
‘Craig, I never told you this: Sharon’s mother phoned me up after they were killed.  She said Sharon loved Gary. I put the phone down on her. But not before I told her when Gary’s funeral was going to be. She must have had some sort of warped idea that they should be cremated in the same place and same day. Stupid bitch!’
Craig was at a loss. ‘Can I get you something to eat?’ he asked, after an awkward silence.
Maggie shook her head. ‘I couldn’t.’
Gary looked around at the other mourners. ‘Gary’s dad doesn’t seem to have lost his appetite. Look at him tucking in like there was no tomorrow.’
Maggie looked disgusted. ‘Let’s go into the garden. Will you get me a glass of wine, Craig?’
‘Sure.’
On the patio, Malcolm was wheeling and dealing on his mobile. He caught the look in Maggie’s eye and said, ‘Sorry, Jason: gonna have to go. Call you later, mate.’
Maggie stared at him with loathing. ‘Your own brother’s funeral.’
‘Life must go on.’
‘Not just yet!’
She snatched his mobile, and before he could stop her, she threw it into the children’s paddling pool.
‘What the hell did you do that for?’ he yelled. ‘Just as a strong Wall Street had kicked the market into action.’

*

Days after Chloe had returned to university, Claire was sitting at the kitchen table, gazing into space. A smell of burnt toast hung in the air. Mike was about to leave for his first appointment.
‘God! What a mess she’s made of her life,’ he said. ‘If it was you...if it was your decision...what would you do?’
Claire shrugged. ‘I’d feel exactly as she feels at her age. I wouldn’t want to get rid of my baby, but I’d feel it was too soon to have one. It would get in the way of what I wanted to do.’
‘I suppose you mean her career. I really don’t think Chloe’s that ambitious.’
‘Don’t be stupid, Mike, of course she is.’
‘I think she tries to live up to your expectations of her.’
‘Are you going to start blaming me for what’s happened?’
‘Did I say anything about blaming you?’
‘You didn’t have to.’
Mike filled a glass with water from the tap and gulped it noisily.
‘I know you think I pushed her too hard. I just thought there was at least one member of this family who was going places.’
Andrew suddenly appeared in the doorway. The expression on his face made her regret her words.
‘Andrew,’ she began awkwardly. ‘What I said about Chloe...’
Andrew shrugged, acting deliberately laid-back. ‘You don’t have to explain, Mum.  You’ve always thought more of Chloe than me. It’s no big deal.’
She could tell he was hurt.
‘I love you just as much as I love Chloe,’ she said.
‘No problem then.’
He opened the back door.
‘You off out?’ Mike asked.
Yeah. I’m going to see a writer friend of mine.’
As soon as he had gone, Claire looked at Mike guiltily and muttered, ‘Oh, damn!’



IN EPISODE TWENTY-SEVEN ON THURSDAY

Jackie and Nigel are planning a holiday, and the little green monster surfaces in Vanessa.


Episode Twenty-seven  Homepage