Twenties Girl

“Lara.” I look up to see Dad approaching me. He looks awkward and keeps glancing at Mum. “We wanted to talk to you about Great-Aunt Sadie’s…” He coughs.

“What?”

“Funeral,” says Mum, in her “discreet” voice.

“Exactly.” Dad nods. “It’s something we’ve been meaning to bring up. Obviously once the police were sure she hadn’t been…”

“Murdered,” puts in Mum.

“Quite. Once the file was closed, the police released her… that’s to say…”

“Remains,” says Mum in a whisper.

“You haven’t done it yet.” I feel a bolt of panic. “Please tell me you haven’t had her funeral.”

“No, no! It was provisionally set for this Friday. We were planning to tell you at some stage…” He trails off evasively.

Yeah, right.

“Anyway!” says Mum quickly. “That was before.”

“Quite. Obviously things have somewhat changed now,” Dad continues. “So if you would like to be involved in planning it-”

“Yes. I would like to be involved,” I say, almost fiercely. “In fact, I think I’ll take charge.”

“Right.” Dad glances at Mum. “Well. Absolutely. I think that would only be right, given the amount of… of research you’ve done on her life.”

“We do think you’re a marvel, Lara,” says Mum with a sudden fervor. “Finding all this out. Who would have known, without you? The story might never have come out at all! We might all have gone to our deaths, never knowing the truth!”

Trust Mum to bring all our deaths into it.

“Here are the funeral directors’ details, darling.” Dad hands me a leaflet, and I awkwardly pocket it, just as the buzzer goes. I head to the video intercom and peer at the grainy black-and-white image on the little screen. I think it’s a man, although the image is so crap, it could equally well be an elephant.

“Hello?”

“It’s Gareth Birch from Print Please,” says the man. “I’ve got your business cards here.”

“Oh, cool! Bring them up!”

This is it. Now I know I really have a business. I have business cards!

I usher Gareth Birch into our office, excitedly open the box, and hand cards around to everyone. They say Lara Lington, Magic Search, and there’s a little embossed picture of a tiny magic wand.

“How come you delivered them personally?” I ask as I sign the delivery form. “I mean, it’s very kind, but aren’t you based in Hackney? Weren’t you going to send them by post?”

“I thought I’d do you a favor,” Gareth Birch says, giving me a glassy stare. “I value your business greatly, and it’s the least I can do.”

“What?” I stare at him, puzzled.

“I value your business greatly,” he repeats, sounding a bit robotic. “It’s the least I can do.”

Oh my God. Sadie. What’s she been doing?

“Well… thanks very much,” I say, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I appreciate it. And I’ll recommend you to all my friends!”

Gareth Birch makes his exit and I busy myself unpacking the boxes of cards, aware of Mum and Dad looking at me, agog.

“Did he just bring these himself, all the way from Hackney?” says Dad at last.

“Looks like it.” I try to sound breezy, as though this is a normal course of events. Luckily, before they can say anything else, the phone rings and I hurry to answer it.

“Hello, Magic Search.”

“May I speak to Lara Lington, please?” It’s a woman’s voice I don’t recognize.

“Speaking.” I sit down on one of the new swivel chairs, hoping she doesn’t hear the crunch of plastic. “Can I help?”

“This is Pauline Reed. I’m head of human resources at Wheeler Foods. I was wondering, would you like to come in for a chat? I’ve heard good things about you.”

“Oh, how nice!” I beam over the phone. “From whom, may I ask? Janet Grady?”

There’s silence. When Pauline Reed speaks again, she sounds puzzled.

“I don’t quite recall who. But you have a great reputation for sourcing talent, and I want to meet you. Something tells me you can do good things for our business.”

Sadie .

“Well… that would be great!” I gather my wits. “Let me look at my schedule…” I open it and fix up an appointment. As I put the phone down, both Mum and Dad are watching with a kind of eager hopefulness.

“Good news, darling?” says Dad.