Page 53 of One Perfect Day in Lovely Bay
'It's seen a lot of history, this place,' Doreen piped up. 'Christenings, weddings, funerals. You name it, I’ve seen it. Generations of Lovelies have passed through these doors.'
Cally smiled. ‘It’s funny, I fell over just outside there on the cobblestones when I was on my way to the manor to work for Nina. It feels like that was ages ago now.’
‘What, right out here?’
‘Yes, I had a cup of blackcurrant and I tipped it down my blouse. It was freezing that morning.’
‘Those cobbles can be slippery over this side of Lovely.’
‘Indeed. I fell over and then bumped into Logan that very morning on the driveway. Hence, the nickname Blackcurrant.’
‘And now, here you are…’
‘I know.’
‘The world goes in circles as they say.’
‘It certainly does.’
As they worked their way down the central aisle, creating clusters of lanterns at the end of each pew, Cally became more and more emotional. Another hour into their work, the pew ends flickered with the soft light of dozens upon dozens of candles, the white flowers seemed to glow in the candlelight, and the whole place took on an ethereal feel.
'It's going to be a beautiful service. Sad, of course, but beautiful.' Birdie noted.
Doreen stood beside her, put her hands on her hips and nodded in agreement. 'It is. I think we've done Alastair proud.'
Cally joined them, and they all stood looking at the decorated church. It had been transformed. The soft glow of hundreds of candles looked back at them. Doreen started to pick up random empty cardboard boxes from the pews. 'Well, I think that's us done. Unless you can think of anywhere else, we could squeeze in a candle?'
Cally and Birdie both chuckled. 'We've covered every available surface. Good job they’re not real or we might be in danger of setting the place alight.'
'True enough. The wonders of technology, eh?’
Cally imagined the church as it would be when she next saw it. The pews filled with mourners, the air heavy with grief, the scent of flowers, the casket at the front testament to a life cut tragically short. She wasn’t looking forward to it at all. The sooner it was done and dusted the better.
32
Cally stood in the bedroom in her flat and looked at the dress hanging on the mirror in front of her. A sombre black affair with matching velvet headband. She hadn’t counted on going to a funeral in the slightest. It hadn’t been in her plans, and just as everyone else had constantly reiterated, she couldn’t quite believe it. The outfit in front of her told her she would most definitely be attending a funeral. The dress, with its slashed neckline, sleeves to the elbow, and fitted bodice, was nice, at least. After going to her grandma’s funeral, she hadn’t thought that she would be attending another one quite as soon, and certainly not one for somebody as young as Alastair. Who ever really thought that they would be going to a funeral for a young person, though? But here she was, about to dress herself from head-to-toe in black and spend the day trying to be of some use to Logan.
There was no doubt that Alastair was gone and that she was about to go to his funeral. She was well aware of that. After a bit of deliberation, she’d spent the night alone without Logan. When he’d said that he was going to be getting home late, part of her had been secretly and selfishly pleased. She’d thought thatsome time on his own would do him good and set him up for the next day. Maybe she was wrong…
Slipping the dress over her head and smoothing it down as it settled into place, she popped on plain black shoes on top of tights with a little heart on the ankle, then gathered her hair at the nape of her neck, twisting it into a neat, low bun. A few strategic clips secured any stray bits, and a liberal spray of hairspray went over the top. As the heavy scent of the hairspray filled the air, Cally was suddenly transported back to the day she'd first properly met the extended Henry-Hicks family at the races. She remembered the nervousness that had knotted her stomach and the feeling of being utterly out of place among Logan's posh upper-class relatives. She’d spent most of the day careering between loving the pomp and fuss of the event with feeling as if she was a fish out of water. There had also been her very awkward encounter with Logan's ex-wife. Being in a marquee with Logan’s ex flashed through her mind; that little episode hadn't helped her inferiority complex at all.
As she gazed at her reflection and looked herself up and down, Cally realised how much had changed since she’d met Logan. Even how she was dressed gave evidence to that. At this event, unlike the first few she’d attended, she’d had no worries about her attire in the slightest. In fact, she’d gone straight online and ordered the dress, found the sweet tights with the heart on the M&S website, and ordered the shoes at the same time. She no longer worried about how she was dressed and the fish-out-of-water feeling had faded over time, replaced by a growing comfort with the Henry-Hicks clan. She wasn't quite one of them, never would be, but she no longer felt like a complete outsider, and she’d grown fond of their funny ways.
The memory of the day at the races, which felt as if it had happened yesterday at the same time as if it had been years before, was a real stake in the ground at how different she wasnow. That race event was a marker of how far she'd come in her relationship with Logan and his family. Now, she was an intrinsic part of it all with a role to play. As she prepared for a much more sombre family gathering, she felt a bittersweet feeling of belonging. She’d mentioned to Logan in Scotland how lucky he was to have a good family. Here, now, they were being put to the test. The funeral was probably going to be up there with one of the darkest hours for the Henry-Hicks family, and whether she liked it or not, she was right in the thick of it.
Tucking a beautiful padded black headband into the front of her hair, she wondered what the funeral was going to be like. She was no stranger to funerals and had been to a few in her time and as far as she was concerned, funerals were never a good thing. None of the ones she’d attended had been even close to pleasant. Her grandma's had been a low-frequency, sad, grim affair with not many people in attendance at all. From her perspective, it had floored her with just about every emotion imaginable; mostly, she’d been flooded by pure and utter relief. Said relief had, in turn, made her feel guilty.
As she fiddled with a very fine, narrow strip of veil on the velvet headband, she swallowed at the thought of what was going to happen that day and how Logan was going to cope. This funeral was a whole different kettle of fish altogether to any of the ones she’d ever been to. A funeral for an older person was bad enough, but a young man in his prime, a venue ready to be swarmed by mourners, the manor, and everything that came with that made Cally unsure what was going to eventuate.
She winced as she thought about Logan as she traced the outline of her lips with a nude lip liner. He’d been in a sort of numb vortex since they’d entered the hospital and Reginald had told them the news. Right from the word go, he’d been quiet and distant and not really wanted to talk about or do anything much. It was almost as if he’d been pretending it hadn’t happened atall. Here and there he’d made an effort to snap out of it but it hadn’t really worked.
Cally hadn’t been sure what to do or how to handle it. She’d tried to just fumble her way through, hoping that he would get better with time. What she had noticed and kept quiet about was that more and more Logan was using alcohol to numb the pain. He had been drinking way too much, using wine as a crutch to make himself not feel what was going on around him. Part of Cally felt that a tiny part of Logan had died at the same time as Alastair. She perished the thought.
Finishing her lips, she went into the kitchen, bent down to the cupboard beside the fridge, grabbed a mini carton of blackcurrant, and put it in her bag. Clicking the magnetic clasp on her bag, she tapped the back of her hair to make sure it was still in place, grabbed her phone, picked up her blazer, and made her way out of the flat. After going down two floors, she sent Logan a text message:
Cally:Hi, how are you?
Logan:Yes, okay. You okay?
