Chapter Twenty-Five
Mum offered to have the wake at her house. I had thought to prepare something at Fox Lodge, but I didn't have the heart. Besides, the large rooms in that house would only emphasise how few people attended Great Uncle Charles's funeral. I had no doubt that, apart from immediate family, there would be no one, and in the end, I was proved almost entirely correct.
Mum, Olivia, David and Don had been granted the day off work to attend, and we stood in solemn silence as the coffin was carried into the crematorium. Great Uncle Charles wasn't religious and had requested a humanist service, which seemed fitting.
As we filed indoors, following the pall bearers, I couldn't help but remember Grandad's funeral and contrast the two. The church had been packed with all Grandad's friends and acquaintances, and I'd felt so proud to know how loved he'd been, and how popular. This room was tiny, but it was still practically empty. I felt an unbearable sadness for Great Uncle Charles. How different things could have been, if only he'd never loved a Carroll.
There was, I thought bitterly, a great lesson to be learned there. You couldn't trust them. They would always abandon you in the end. Here I was again, all alone and let down by Kit Carroll. I deserved all I got.
Hearing the door open and close behind me, I glanced around and noticed, to my surprise, that there were a couple of other people sitting in the pews behind me. I had no idea who they were.
My eyes widened when I realised it had been Kit who'd just entered the chapel. Dressed in a black suit and tie, he looked very serious and—I couldn't deny it—devastatingly handsome. My heart thumped, and I turned away, furious with myself. What was he doing there, anyway? It had nothing to do with him.
The ceremony went by in a blur. There were a couple of readings by the humanist official, and two of Great Uncle Charles's favourite pieces of music were played. I wouldn't have known what to choose, but he'd left instructions. The funeral was to be carried out exactly as he requested, and who would dare to disobey Great Uncle Charles?
I watched through blurry eyes, as the coffin disappeared behind the curtain. His last journey. I'd never got the chance to tell him how sorry I was for all that he'd been through, how much I wished we'd had the chance to really talk, how much he meant to me, and how much I regretted that I hadn't realised that until it was too late.
Afterwards, we filed outside, and the two men who'd been sitting behind us came up to us and shook our hands. They commiserated with us, and explained that they used to work for Great Uncle Charles in Leeds, and that he'd been a well-respected boss who treated his workers well, and ran a tight, but fair, ship. "He was well thought of," they said, "and he'll be sadly missed by those who remember him."
"Who'd have thought it?" said Mum, shaking her head in astonishment, when they wandered off, having politely declined her offer to come back to the house for a glass of something alcoholic and a bite to eat.
"Just shows you," Olivia mused. "There's good in everyone, after all."
I glanced over at Kit, who was talking to Don. He looked pale and was shivering. He wasn't the only one. The air was bitterly cold, a coating of frost covered the ground. Mum had slipped and almost fallen over on her way into the chapel.
Christmas was just days away. Olivia was hopeful that there would be snow in time for the big day, but I doubted it. A white Christmas was the stuff of fairy tales and soppy songs, and real life had a habit of being a massive let-down, after all.
Mum looked at me, then at Kit, then back at me again. "What's gone on between you two?" she whispered.
"I don't know what you mean."
"I think you do. You were all over each other at the hospital, now it looks as if you're not even speaking. What have you done?"
"Well, I like that! Why do you assume it's me that's done something? For your information, he's an absolute dickhead, and I should have known better than to get involved with him."
"He's a tight git," admitted Olivia. "I'm struggling to forgive him for cutting our bonus. Made things very difficult for us, this year. I must say, I thought you'd have gone for someone flashier. Can't imagine him putting his hand in his pocket for a Jenny Kingston handbag for you."
That reminded me. He must have gone over to Moreland Hall to take Ethan Rochester and his wife the chocolate samples. I wondered how that had gone? Was there any news on the contract?
I wanted to ask him, but had no intention of doing so. I supposed I'd find out at some point, along with everyone else at the factory.
I remembered the present he'd left for me at the flat. It was a sealed envelope with a bow stuck to the front. Hardly a handbag. Unless it was a gift voucher? Maybe he'd thought I would prefer to choose my own gift?
I wondered if I should give it back to him. Not that I wanted my own present back. I'd given him the parcel containing the tie at the weekend, and he'd taken it home with him, promising to put it under the Christmas tree.
When I'd laughed and pointed out that he didn't have a Christmas tree up, he'd sworn he would decorate the house especially. Somehow, I doubted he'd bothered. There had been no sign of twinkling lights through the windows of Fell House the other night, when I'd stood outside, watching him kiss that woman. Or rather, watching that woman kiss him. So, he knew her from Africa? Hadn't I feared that he'd meet someone over there? How involved had they been? Had he forgotten me so quickly? I'd bet, as soon as he arrived there, he'd not given me a second thought.
I blinked when Kit suddenly loomed over me. As my eyes met his, all my blood pooled in my feet.
"I'm really sorry, Marley."
Was he? For what, exactly?
"I know he was all you had left of your grandad. I wish you'd had more time together, really I do. I want you to take the rest of the week off. Come back after the Christmas break."
"There's no need—"
"Yes, there is. Compassionate leave. Everyone's entitled to it, and you're no different. You've been through a lot, and you need some time to deal with it."
I nodded. "Thanks."
"Marley …" His voice was appealing, as if he wanted me to just forget about everything that had happened. "Can we go somewhere and talk?"
My teeth clattered together. "I have the wake to go to. I can't just abandon that."
He glanced around, his expression clearly pointing out that there was hardly anyone there who would object. "I just think we should discuss things, don't you?"
Those soft, dark eyes seemed to stare into my very soul, and I wanted suddenly to launch myself against him and sob my heart out—for Grandad, for Dad, for Great Uncle Charles, for us, for ... everything. "I suppose we should," I murmured eventually, swallowing down the huge lump in my throat. "Fox Lodge, tomorrow night?"
After a small pause, he nodded. "Fox Lodge, tomorrow night. Around seven?"
"Fine."
"I'll see you there," he promised, then moved away to give his condolences to my family, and to make his excuses that he was going straight back to work.
Watching him walk away, I just didn't know what to think anymore.
Don appeared beside me and draped his arm around my shoulder. "Don't know what's gone wrong between you two, love, but remember what your uncle wanted, eh?" he whispered. "Don't throw everything away again. Don't be alone. Give him a chance, Marley."
"Come on, you two," called Mum. "Back to ours. There's a table full of food to be eaten, and I expect you all to do your bit and clear the lot. I didn't spend twenty-four quid at the freezer shop for nothing."