Page 50 of Birds of a Feather

I searched for a rationalisation to make sense of what I was feeling. But the only emotion I could readily identify was disappointment, which, of course, was ridiculous. I knew what it meant to be asked to present at an international conference, and he certainly wasn’t under any obligation to hang around London for me.

‘I get back the day before you leave town, if I’m not mistaken. And I’d really like to see you again before I go. If that’s okay with you, of course.’

I nodded feebly.

‘That’s good news that you get to see each other again before you go, and you’ve got tomorrow too,’ Gran said. ‘With us tied up, you’ll be free to spend the whole day together.’

I was grateful; it wasn’t the first time she’d jumped in to compensate for my social awkwardness.

I nodded.

‘Perfect,’ he replied enthusiastically. ‘It’s a date.’

But was it?

~

‘That was nice of Nick to offer to do something again tomorrow,’ Gran said, as the lift doors shut to take her, Gerry and me up to our floor.

‘Yes. It was. He’s been very friend-ly.’ I emphasised the first syllable of the last word to shut down any inference she was making.

Gerry smiled, her right eyebrow raised a fraction.

‘He’s such a lovely young man,’ Gran continued. ‘And he’s very easy on the eye.’

‘Okay. That’s enough of that, thanks,’ I commanded.

‘What?’ she asked with feigned innocence. ‘I’m not doing anything at all.’

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.

‘I was only saying …’

‘You don’t need to say anything at all. He’s going away. Remember?’

‘But you’ve got tomorrow,’ Gran said as she reached for Gerry’s hand. ‘And, trust me, you need to make the most of every moment. Life is too short for missed opportunities.’

Chapter 24

Elise

‘Gerry Burnsby … if you don’t tell me what we’re doing here right now … I’ll …’

Elise gently poked at Gerry’s torso as the two women arrived at the entrance to Kensal Green Cemetery.

A car honked urgently as a pedestrian with his face bowed to the illuminated screen in his hand walked straight out into traffic near the cemetery entrance, causing at least two cars to swerve.

‘PISS OFF,’ the pedestrian shouted maniacally, saluting the drivers with his middle finger.

‘Seriously,’ Elise said, strengthening her grip on Gerry’s arm. ‘What are we doing here?’

‘You’ll see,’ she said in a singsong voice, seemingly oblivious to the pedestrian who was now chasing a car down the road, yelling and shaking his fist.

At the entrance to the cemetery was a large arch with a thriving population of weeds growing at the top. The white paint on the arch was peeling and dirty, and litter had collected in the black wrought-iron fence that framed four unkept garden beds.

Once inside the cemetery, Elise and Gerry followed a maze of crushed gravel paths, past graves, monuments and little chapels. Shiny new headstones adorned with recent dates and photos of their occupants sat alongside concrete tombs in various states of disrepair where time and the elements had stolen the details of who they honoured.

A crow cawed at the same time that a squirrel rustled in a nearby bush. Elise startled. ‘I don’t usually make a habit of hanging out in cemeteries, you know,’ she said, nervously looking over her shoulder to ensure they hadn’t roused any ghouls.

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