The Carter family was lucky that the coroner wasn’t busy. Because Jack had died unexpectedly and at home, a post mortem was necessary, but it was pushed through quickly after his GP had furnished the coroner with Jack’s medical records. The verdict was heart failure, which came as no surprise to anyone. As a result, Jack’s body was released for burial fairly swiftly. The old man had often spoken about what he wanted for his funeral, and so it was that Jonathan and Matthew were able to arrange it for the following Tuesday, the same day that Jonathan had arranged to meet Paul Stone. Jonathan realised, with a lurch, that he’d completely forgotten about Stone until the date was confirmed by the vicar. Regretfully, he cancelled the appointment, vowing to rebook as soon as he could. Caroline would understand, he thought. She still hadn’t been in contact since sending him a text to let him know she’d got to Farnham safely, before Jack’s death. He’d tried calling her the day after Jack had died but her phone had gone straight to voicemail. She had warned him that her flat was in a blackspot but he was surprised, and not a little hurt, that she hadn’t been in touch nearly a week on from his message. Surely she’d have been able to check her phone at some point, he thought. She wouldn’t have been holed up in the flat for all that time.
Despite Jack’s popularity and the temptation to mark his passing in a more flamboyant way, the Carter brothers had been relieved at the straightforwardness of their father’s final wishes. There would be no carrying the coffin on a Carter’s juggernaut, no Morris men dancing and jingling, just two brothers and their family, and those from the village who wanted to pay their respects. At the end of the day, in his quieter moments, Jack had always said he just wanted to see Cecily again.
Matthew and Anna, ever concerned, ever hospitable, had invited Jonathan to spend the night before the funeral at Cowslip Barn but Jonathan had declined. He loved his family, but he needed to be alone. Despite this, Matthew had come over earlier to discuss the eulogy one more time.
‘You’re the elder son, you should do it,’ Jonathan said. ‘It’s your right.’
Matthew shook his head. ‘I think we both know you’d do a better job of it. And Dad would have preferred you, anyway.’
‘Now is not the time to bring that up again,’ Jonathan said wearily. ‘But if you really want me to do it, then I will.’
Matthew nodded. ‘Thank you.’ He looked at his brother. Jonathan had managed to have a shave today but he still looked tired. ‘Come to dinner tonight?’
Jonathan smiled for the first time in days. ‘You’re not going to give up until I do, are you?’
‘It’s the wife,’ Matthew replied. ‘She’s got this foolish notion you’re fading away in this cottage and you know how she is about feeding people up.’
‘Well, she knows you’d never eat if she or Meredith didn’t cook for you.’ Jonathan pulled up the sleeves on the jumper he was wearing. One of Jack’s, Matthew realised with a lurch.
‘So, will you come over, to stop her giving me earache?’
‘Not tonight,’ Jonathan said, with the ghost of a smile of sympathy for his brother. ‘Really, I’m not that hungry.’
Matthew smiled back for the first time that day. ‘Dad wouldn’t want to see you sitting here alone,’ he said roughly. ‘Better to be with your family.’
‘He’d have kicked my arse by now,’ Jonathan said. ‘Over quite a few things, I think.’
‘It’s not just Dad, is it? You still haven’t sorted out the accounts discrepancies with Caroline, have you?’ Matthew looked at his brother, compassion in his eyes. ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ he said hastily, ‘at the moment, that’s the last thing on my mind, too. But something tells me you’re stalling because there’s more to it than just the money.’
Jonathan gave a hollow laugh. ‘I can’t talk about it right now, Matthew. And anyway, we’ve got bigger things to get through for the next couple of days. But I will get to the bottom of it after tomorrow’s over and done with.’
‘That’s fine as far as the money is concerned,’ Matthew’s tone was still gentle, ‘but if there is more to it, you can admit it, you know.’
‘It’s no good,’ Jonathan said. ‘You know me; can’t commit to a shampoo, much less a relationship. Bachelor to the end of my days.’ At Matthew’s sceptical look, he actually managed a laugh. ‘Besides, she’s keeping me firmly at arm’s length.’
‘It happens to the best of us,’ Matthew reminded him. ‘Need I mention my previous marriage?’
‘I wouldn’t,’ Jonathan replied. ‘I hear some twat ruined it for you.’
‘Nah,’ Matthew said. ‘I managed that myself.’ He patted Jonathan’s shoulder awkwardly. ‘Come over tonight. Have some stew and a couple of glasses of wine. It’ll do you good.’
Jonathan shook his head. ‘No thanks. I need to get my head together to face the funeral tomorrow. I still don’t know what the fuck I’m going to say.’
‘Don’t plan it,’ Matthew said gently, resting his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. ‘Just speak from the heart. You’re best that way.’ He swallowed hard. ‘Dad wouldn’t have wanted you to spend hours agonising about what to say.’
‘I wish I could have told him how I felt when he was alive,’ Jonathan’s voice trembled and he tried unsuccessfully to swallow the lump in his throat. ‘Instead of bending his ear about Buckthorn.’
Matthew rubbed his eyes and Jonathan realised for the first time just how hard their father’s death had hit his brother. ‘He knew,’ Matthew said wearily. ‘He might not have said so, but he knew.’
‘Go on,’ Jonathan said, wiping his own eyes hurriedly. ‘Get back to that family of yours. Your wife’s likely to give birth any moment now. You need to be with her.’
Matthew gave a sad smile. ‘I’ll see you at Cowslip Barn tomorrow then. Remember Dad’s… getting there… at about nine thirty.’
Jonathan nodded. ‘I’ll be there in plenty of time.’ He wanted to say more, but at the last moment he stopped himself. They both had to hold it together for the sake of the rest of the family, at least until Jack was safely interred. There would be plenty of time for tears later. He had the rest of his life to mourn for his father, and for Caroline, Jonathan thought as Matthew left.