Page 93 of Millie & George: Young Love
‘What do you think of this wake Henry’s arranged?’
‘It’s not a wake, just a meal.’
‘You knew about it?’
‘Not until Millie filled me in with the details when we arrived here.’
The boys sat and stared morosely at the coffin until the sermon began. There was a eulogy describing a woman that Owen did not know. Then one of the distant friends that Owen only vaguely recognised gave a tearful account of what Elizabeth had meant to her.
Then Henry stepped forward. Owen glanced at George, who mouthed ‘what the fuck’ at him and they both turned in astonishment as Henry stepped up to the lectern and began to speak:
‘It is always a sorry day when we say goodbye to someone we love,’ he began, and Owen thought he might be about to vomit. How dare this man say something like that? He knew nothing about Elizabeth Kingsley. He felt a restraining hand on his arm. It was George, preventing him from leaping up and making a scene.
‘Let the bugger speak,’ George whispered. ‘As Millie keeps telling me, he is only trying to help.’
Owen nodded, signalling acquiescence. He let his head droop, chin resting on chest. His mother wouldn’t care, anyway.
It wasa different sort of quiet on the return journey – exhausted, emotion spent but not relaxed. Owen spent the time with his head against the cool glass of the car’s window, trying to find one happy memory of his mum. So engrossed in this activity, he didn’t notice the passing of time and was vaguely surprised when the Mercedes pulled into a parking space in Docklands.
‘Home now,’ Henry said and looked around at everyone.
Taking that as a cue to move, Owen climbed out of the car and opened the front passenger door for Sally. He couldn’t remember when they had last spoken, but now she was looking at him. Green eyes full of concern.
‘Owen, my love,’ she whispered, stretching up to him. ‘Are you all right… have you survived the day?’
He nodded.
She stretched up and caressed his cheek. ‘Oh lovely, my poor lovely… it will get better now. You wait and see. You are going to do great things with your life.’
‘Let’s get inside out of the cold,’ Henry interrupted, and guided Sally away from Owen. George and Millie came to his side.
‘You all right?’ George asked, and they glanced at each other, then they fell about laughing.
Millie looked at them as if they were mad.
Owen turned to her. ‘It’s just a catch phrase George has. Which he uses at the most inappropriate times.’
She nodded, still obviously not understanding, still thinking them deranged.
George said, ‘We’d better go. They’re holding the lift for us.’
Henry’s hometurned out to be like nothing Owen, George or Millie had ever seen before. Luxury on steroids, was how George described it later. And the simple little meal that Henry had promised them turned out to be the finest French cuisine prepared in Henry’s state-of-the-art kitchen by a Michelin starred chef brought in for the evening.
‘Who’s he trying to impress?’ George whispered, swilling something pink and alcoholic in his glass that on first taste seemed to him to be very bitter and slightly floral.
‘God knows,’ Owen said, eyes widening, eyebrows lifting. ‘Certainly not you or me.’
‘He definitely knows how to charm women,’ George muttered.
‘So, it’s not just me. You don’t like him either?’
‘God no.’ George chucked the pink fluid into the nearest pot plant. ‘But what can I do? Mum likes him. He makes her happy. So, I’ve got to put up with him.’
‘I suppose you have.’
‘At least he’s better than my dad.’
‘Which is not saying much,’ Owen said, and they both fell about laughing again, to the amazement of everyone else present.
