Page 86 of Carbon

“It was him who murdered her. Boy, that was a really long time ago now.” She put an arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “I promise I’ll try not to hurdle any headstones today.”

The thought made me giggle even as my heart ached. “Mother would have a fit.”

We stared at each other for a few seconds, before she said, “Maybe I should,” at the same time as I blurted, “Perhaps you should.” Then we both started laughing.

“We mustn’t laugh,” I spluttered.

“It’s better than crying.”

True, and I’d be doing enough of that later. That thought sobered me up as I drank a quick cup of coffee, grabbed my handbag, and followed Emmy down to the car park.

“Are we taking the Porsche again?”

“It would be rude not to.”

“Is Black going to the funeral?”

“No. With his height, he sticks out too much. Nye will go, probably Xav and Sofia. Logan and Dev have the wrong looks to fit in with your crowd.”

When I was a little girl, I didn’t care what people looked like or how they dressed, but as a teenager, I’d been conditioned to believe it mattered more than anything. That the colour of a person’s skin trumped their heart, and the labels they wore were more important than their personality. Well, no longer. Ben had taught me many lessons in my life, and the most important one I needed to remember was to judge a person by what was on the inside.

And as Emmy squeezed my hand in a show of solidarity before she started the car engine, I believed she was a good person.

* * *

Mother was already seated in the front pew at St. James’s chapel when we arrived. I’d been there many times for christenings and marriages but never for the funeral of somebody close to me. Today, I found little comfort in the old wooden carvings and stained glass windows I’d found so fascinating as a child.

I took my place next to Father while Emmy slipped into a seat a couple of rows back. I’d spotted Nye near the entrance with his fiancée, but Xav and Sofia remained out of sight.

Mother glanced over, dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “I’m surprised you showed up.”

“Carolyn...” my father warned.

“She abandoned us in our time of need.”

“I just needed some space,” I whispered.

“Carolyn, we’ll talk about this afterwards.”

Thankfully, the vicar picked that moment to arrive, pausing to offer a few words of condolence before climbing into the pulpit. Father gripped my hand as the first bars of the funeral march played, and I somehow held it together while six pallbearers I didn’t recognise carried Angie’s oak coffin down the aisle and placed it gently on a wooden frame. Roses. White roses. She’d always loved them in life, and now they mourned her in death, a huge arrangement of them on the coffin lid interspersed with sprays of freesias and eucalyptus. I focused on the flowers as the vicar spoke, trying to block out the end with memories of happier times. The plays she’d been in at school, her first car, the time we’d snuck out to a pop concert and told Mother we were at the Tate Gallery, our giggles after her first kiss when she admitted the boy’s lips felt more like a kipper. I needed to focus on the good we’d shared, or grief would have consumed me.

And then it was over, at least the service. Just the burial to deal with now.

We all trooped outside to the graveyard, and Emmy took my hand while my father comforted Mother, whose sobs drowned out the vicar’s words as Angie’s body was lowered into the ground.

“You holding up?” Emmy whispered.

I managed a nod, not daring to attempt anything more.

Then Angie was gone. Father stepped forward and sprinkled a handful of dirt into the grave, organ music played through hidden speakers, and mutterings began about the predicted variety of canapés at the wake. And, more importantly, would there be free booze?

Being the target of everyone’s sympathy was the last thing I wanted. I tried to make a quick escape, but Father caught up with us at the entrance to the cemetery.

“Augusta, are you coming home tonight?”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“Your mother needs you. She’s concerned about all this acting out.”

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