Page 64 of An Unholy Affair
‘Mum—’
‘And, it goes without saying he looks like a model. Lovely long eyelashes—’
‘Mum!’
‘Yes?’
‘Do you think you could visit this Christmas? I haven’t seen you for so long, and you haven’t been to Foxbrooke yet. There’s plenty of room in the rectory to stay.’
‘But darling, that’s such a busy time with Hugh and the girls. And this year we’ll have Klaus and Pietro too. You know you’re very welcome to come to us anytime. And we’ve got that lovely sofa bed in Hugh’s snug with your name on it.’
Eveline dug her nails into her palm. ‘I would love to, Mum, but Christmas is one of those times of year I really can’t go on holiday.’
‘You’re right. Silly me. Well, you can come another time. Now, did I tell you that Abigail won a prize?’
Twenty minutes later,Eveline got off the phone. She’d been fully briefed as to the recent accomplishments of her half-sisters, and shared nothing with her mother that was truly important to her.
Sitting at the kitchen table, she thumbed through the photos of Jack’s father. The majority were from Nigel’s late teens and early twenties—of him camping, fishing, mountain climbing and river swimming with a friend. They both looked happy and carefree. Were they still friends now?
A photo could tell a thousand stories, and at the same time, none at all. Who was Nigel Newton,really, behind the public face? Eveline had now learnt he was an abusive bully to his own children, but she would never have guessed that from looking at these pictures.
She put them back in the box. For the first time since Gracie’s death, she wanted a funeral out of the way. She hoped it would bring some sense of closure for Jack and his family, even though it was only one step in the grieving process.
14
Jack kept his left hand behind him, touching the cold stonework of Saint Saviour’s for support, as his right extended to greet the line of strangers. His mother was inside with his sister, Steph and Betsy, sitting in the front pew next to the coffin. Jack had made the executive decision not to carry it into the church at the start of the service, and he wouldn’t be one of the pallbearers at the end, either.
On the other side of the large door stood Eveline, wearing a long white surplice over a cassock. An embroidered stole hung around her neck. Her sling was gone, and she didn’t seem to be in any discomfort when she moved.
Whereas Eveline appeared in total control, Jack was the opposite. Over the last few days, he’d felt adrift in the middle of an ocean, as the sky darkened and a container ship in the shape of a coffin bore down on him.
He’d tried to focus on the Winter Ball, visiting Foxbrooke Haven, taking his mum for a check-up, and helping Finn replace Eveline’s back door. But nothing worked. With each moment that passed, the air around him seemed to get thicker, until he felt like it was choking the life out of him. Sleep was only achieved with the help of a bottle of Scotch.
Jack knew he didn’t have a problem with alcohol—this was just a stressful period in his life. But he didn’t want Eveline to worry about him after what she’d shared about her past. So, he made sure what bits of work he did around the rectory were timed for when she was out, in case he still smelled of booze.
Being with Eveline was a double-edged sword. Jack craved her presence, but felt the weight of his own inadequacy when with her. And despite how much his body ached for her, his mind knew they could never be together.
‘Mate, you look rough as fuck.’
He snapped back to the present as Finn hugged him. His friend pulled away, a frown on his face. ‘If you want me to do the eulogy, I will. Honestly, you look like you’re about to throw up.’
Jack managed a smile. ‘If Mum and Emily weren’t here, then I would have hired a kid’s entertainer or a drag queen to do it. Something fun that Dad would have lost his shit over.’
‘Shall I see if I’ve got any balloons in the back of the van? I could make a sausage dog or a pair of fake tits?’
‘Don’t tempt me.’
Finn glanced around. ‘Looks like a good turnout. I didn’t know your dad was this popular?’
Jack lowered his voice. ‘Funerals aren’t normally on a Sunday. I think Eveline suggested this day to ensure more than three people would show up.’
‘That’s the kind of thing she would do.’ His friend reached into the inside pocket of his coat and showed him a silver hip flask. ‘Thought you might need some of this?’
Jack let out a grateful sigh. ‘You beauty.’
Finn handed it to him. ‘Go and hide out in the sacristy for a few minutes. Fuck all this shit.’
‘Sacristy?’
