Chapter Seven
Nanna had left detailed instructions for her funeral.
Well, of course she had.
Cassie had laughed as she’d read the note.
The writing was a little wobbly, but the voice was distinctly Nanna’s.
Everyone was to wear bright colours — strictly no black.
She had chosen the hymns, and had insisted that there were to be no long-winded prayers or sermons.
Eva, the vicar, had laughed at that.
“Typical Edie. She’d sometimes yell at me to get on with it if she thought I was going on too long.”
It had rained overnight, but it wouldn’t have dared to rain on Nanna’s big day.
The afternoon sun was bright and the beach was full of families.
It seemed a little incongruous as they piled into the funeral cars, but Cassie suspected that Nanna would have relished that.
The hearse was full of flowers, with more piled on top.
As they drove along the Esplanade, people stopped respectfully to watch them pass.
It was only a short distance, round past the Memorial Gardens and up Church Road.
All Saints Church had stood guard over the souls of Sturcombe since the thirteenth century.
The Victorians had added a couple of bits to the original building — an imposing porch and the square bell tower, and a rather fine stained-glass window over the altar.
A low stone wall surrounded the graveyard, with a covered wooden lychgate.
The hearse drew up at the kerb, the mourners’ cars lining up behind it.
Their driver climbed out and came round to open the rear door for them.
They stood for a moment in the sunshine, watching as the undertaker’s assistants unloaded the flowers.
Richard and Paul Channing would be helping them carry the coffin, along with Ollie, and Tom Cullen.
In accordance with Nanna’s instructions, they were all brightly dressed.
Cassie was wearing a white sundress with scarlet flowers twining up from the hem.
Lisa’s dress was a vivid yellow, and their mum was in mint green.
People were still filing into the church.
The atmosphere was more like a summer garden party than a solemn funeral.
The women had all followed Nanna’s instructions too and were wearing summer dresses, and the men were mostly in colourful shirts and ties, without jackets.
As the congregation moved through the churchyard, Cassie caught a glimpse of Liam.
He was wearing a pale-lemon shirt, and a virulently coloured tie patterned with cartoon fish — she strongly suspected that it had been chosen by little Robyn.
For some reason that gave her heart a warm squeeze.
Beside her, Lisa laughed softly.
“You know, if Nanna’s looking down on us she’s going to be right smug. For the final time, she’s got her own way.”
Cassie nodded.
“There’s a Maori word for it — Mana . It means a person has great presence, great power. It sums up Nanna perfectly.”
Lisa smiled, a tear sparkling at the corner of her eye.
“It does.”
“Well . . .” Helen Channing let her breath go in a long sigh and linked her arms with her two daughters.
“Come on, then. Here we go.”
The three of them walked into the church.
The organist was playing quietly — ‘Pachelbel’s Canon’.
Cassie was a little surprised to see that all the pews were packed — cousins from both Nanna’s side of the family and Grandpa’s, as well as seemingly the whole village and many who had moved away.
They took their places in the front pew and sat for a moment, quietly listening to the organ music.
The bright sunshine was streaming in through the stained-glass windows along the south side of the church, casting jewel-bright patterns across the stone floor.
The distinctive scent of old churches — dust and warm stone and beeswax polish — stirred memories for Cassie of attending Church Parades here when she was nine years old, so proud in her Brownie uniform.
The wreaths from the hearse had been set around the bier before the altar.
The organist began to play the opening bars of ‘Abide With Me’, and everyone rose as Eva led the coffin bearers down the aisle.
The service began with a short prayer and a Bible reading, then the hymn that had been sung at Nanna’s wedding so long ago — ‘For Those in Peril on the Sea’.
Then Eva spoke briefly about her own memories of Nanna, stirring a few ripples of laughter.
“But I only knew Edie for six years. Most of you will have known her for much longer. If any of you would like to say a few words, please do so now.”
There were a few moments’ hesitation, then Ollie rose to his feet.
“I want to thank Nanna Edie for her kindness when I had my first experience of a patient dying on my watch. Well, as you can imagine, it was her own brand of kindness.”
Laughter rippled through the congregation again.
“She sat me down and told me not to be ridiculous. People die all the time, and it mostly won’t be my fault. She was right, of course — a doctor has to toughen up. But that ‘mostly’ also reminded me not to get too big for my boots. So, thank you, Nanna Edie. I hope I’m a better doctor for your wise words.”
A few people started to applaud as he sat down again, then hesitated, wondering if that was quite appropriate.
But Cassie’s mum went on applauding loudly, and the vicar joined in, so the applause was taken up throughout the congregation.
Then Brenda, who ran the convenience store just a few yards up the road from the church, stood up.
“I’d like to say something, if that’s okay?”
“Of course. Speak up,” Eva encouraged.
“Well . . . when my husband — the rat — went off, leaving me with my Bethany, just eight years old, I was at rock bottom. He’d always undermined me — I had no confidence in myself, no idea how I would cope. Edie helped me fill in all the forms and applications to take over the shop. She didn’t do it for me — she showed me how to do it myself. She told me she wouldn’t help me again. Instead, she gave me the belief that I really could do it myself.”
There were nods and murmurs of approval.
Then there was someone else with a story of Nanna giving them a small sum of money in an emergency and telling them she didn’t want it back, that when they were in a position to do so, to pass on the favour.
One after another, people were standing up to tell similar stories about Nanna’s no-nonsense encouragement, small acts of generosity, practical support in a crisis.
Cassie glanced at her sister, wide-eyed.
“I never knew any of this,” she whispered.
“Did you?”
Lisa shook her head.
“Not much of it.”
“The Maoris have a custom like this. They call it Tangi . Everyone comes to the funeral and tells stories about the person who’s died. They don’t even have to be good stories.”
“That’s really nice,” Lisa murmured.
“Makes it a bit more interesting than a lot of English funerals.”
Liam had risen to his feet.
“My story’s similar to Ollie’s,” he began.
“Many of you know that my wife Natalie died three years ago.” Cassie could hear the catch in his voice.
“We were on holiday in Greece and . . . she was hit by a van as she was crossing the road.”
He paused to drag in a long breath.
“For a long time, I blamed myself. If I had been quicker . . .” Another pause.
“Anyway, Edie gave me one of her talks — as she did with many of us here. It was one sunny afternoon at the cricket, about six months after Natalie died.”
The whole church was silent.
The only sound was the soft trilling of birdsong drifting in on the breeze through the open doors.
“She summoned me over, the way she does . . . did. She told me that I couldn’t have known what was going to happen, so there was nothing I could have done to prevent it. She told me to stop focusing on the way Nat had died, but on the happy memories of her life, our life together. For Robyn’s sake. And I’ve tried to do that. Thank you, Edie.”
The lump in Cassie’s throat made it hard for her to breathe.
The last to speak was Arthur Crocombe.
He rose unsteadily to his feet, helped by Vicky and his carer, Marcus.
“A lot of people have stood up to say nice things about Edie. Well, I knew her a lot longer than any of you. And I’ll say this. She was a tough old bird, and had a sharp tongue that could cut you as soon as look at you. But she only used it on them as deserved it, and she never said behind your back what she wouldn’t say to your face.”
Marcus tried to take his arm to support him again, but he shook him off impatiently.
“I can stand on my own two feet, thank you, and I ain’t finished yet.”
He took a moment to catch his thread again.
“She was generous to a fault with her time and her money, was Edie. But she never wanted for no one to know what she did, and she didn’t care about thanks. She was never bothered that someone might take advantage of her. She always said that was between them and their conscience, and she wasn’t going to let someone else’s behaviour change how she behaved.”
He coughed and produced a large white handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his mouth.
“She came here to the church regular all through her life, but she never judged them as didn’t. Nor them as got themselves into a mess through making the wrong choices. She said you only get one chance at life and you have to live it like you mean it. She was dead right about that — she was dead right about most things. But there’s was one thing she was wrong about. She said I wouldn’t out-live her.” He finished on a note of triumph.
“And I have!”
The laughter and applause rolled through the pews.
Then at a signal from Eva, the organist swivelled his seat back to the keyboard and the opening notes of ‘Guide Me Oh Thou Great Jehovah’ swelled up to the high vaulted roof.
Cassie laughed softly.
“Trust Nanna to pick this one. She always did like a good rousing hymn.”
“And with the traditional words,” Lisa added.
The congregation clearly liked the hymn too, belting it out with vigour, the men’s voices relishing the bass pick-up at the end of each verse.
Then as the last notes died away, the pall bearers stepped forward to lift the coffin from the bier and pace slowly back down the aisle.
Now Cassie found that she was crying at last, tears sliding down her cheeks.
Her mum and Lisa were crying too, and the three women linked arms again as they stepped from the pew to lead the mourners out to the graveyard.
The heat and the blazing sunshine were almost dazzling after the cool of the church.
Footsteps crunched on the gravel path as they followed round to the plot Nanna had planned for herself long ago, shared with her beloved husband who had gone fifteen years earlier.
“Where they can watch the cricket through that gap in the hedge,” Lisa whispered with a soft laugh.
Cassie hadn’t intended to look for Liam, but her gaze seemed to be drawn towards him in spite of her will.
He was standing with his brother.
Their mum was there, and Julia, but not their dad — he would probably be looking after the practice in case there were any emergencies.
She watched him for a moment, remembering what he had said about focusing on the happy memories of his wife.
There must have been so many of them.
Would he ever find someone to replace her?
Would he even want to?
As if he sensed her looking at him, his dark gaze turned towards her.
Her heart gave a sharp thump, and she looked away quickly, hoping the sudden heat in her cheeks wasn’t a betraying blush.
This was not the moment for the thoughts that were spinning in her brain.
* * *
The churchyard was a haven of peace, surrounded by trees in their full summer leaf.
The grass had grown long around the gravestones, heavy bumblebees buzzed quietly among the daisies and clover and meadow crane’s-bill.
Liam let his gaze drift to the left.
Three years ago he had buried Natalie there, in the shade of a leafy beech tree.
He brought Robyn here regularly to visit ‘Mummy’s garden’.
She loved to tend it, picking off any faded flowers or ragged leaves and making sure there wasn’t a single weed.
His thoughts went back to that conversation with Edie Channing, that hot summer’s afternoon at the cricket .
.
.
* * *
“Well, young man. How are you?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“No you’re not.” No shilly-shallying from Edie.
“I can see it in your eyes. Takes a long time to get over a loss like you’ve had — longer than you think.”
“It’s been six months.” Six months already?
It felt like days.
Edie waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.
“Six months is nothing — part of you will grieve for her forever. And that’s as it should be. But sooner or later another part of you will begin to move on, and that’s as it should be too. You can’t hold back life — it keeps on pushing forward.”
It felt as if she was reading his mind.
“You have a little girl, and she’ll be growing up. For her sake you need to focus on the happy memories. For your own sake too. You only get one life, and sometimes bad things come. But if you let yourself get stuck in that then you’re wasting every other chance you might have. Don’t you think Natalie would have wanted you to be happy again?”
He hesitated, struggling to admit that she was probably right.
“I suppose she would.”
“There’s no suppose about it. She was a lovely girl, but she’s gone. And you’re still here, and so is your daughter. Take as much time as you need, but don’t feel guilty when you find yourself beginning to enjoy life again.”
* * *
He smiled to himself as he stood with the group around Edie’s grave.
She really had been a wise old bird.
And she had been right — more and more he had found himself enjoying life.
Little things — riding along the coast path on a good horse, coming in on a cold, wet night to settle down in front of the fire with a book while his daughter slept upstairs.
At first he would catch himself with a stab of guilt — it had felt as if he was minimising everything Natalie had been to him.
But as Edie had said, life keeps pushing forward.
Without any conscious intent he had let his gaze drift back to Cassie, standing with her mother and her sister.
She had been crying — her eyes were still damp, her mascara smudged on her cheeks.
This must be so hard for her.
She had loved her grandmother.
At least she had got home in time, even if it had only been for a few days.
And now that Edie was gone, how long would she stay?
Maybe for her old friend Debbie’s wedding, and possibly for Tom’s.
And then .
.
.
?
Would that deep-rooted desire for adventure lure her away again?
Yes, it probably would.
Eva spoke the last prayer, and the coffin was lowered gently into the ground.
Richard and Helen Channing stepped forward to drop flowers on top, followed by their three children, then more neighbours and friends — white lilies, roses and carnations, creating a fragrant mound of white petals.
At last, with murmurs of farewell to the grand old lady who had been so much the heart of the village, everyone set off to stroll the short distance down the hill to the wake in the Carleton Hotel.
Liam fell into step with his mother and brother.
Luke glanced across at him and dropped a hand on his shoulder.
“You okay, Bro?”
Liam grinned back at him.
“I’m getting there.”
“It was a tough time for you.”
“It was. But you were all there for me — I appreciate that. And Edie had it right — life keeps pushing forward.”
Their mum smiled at them both but said nothing.
At the hotel a generous buffet had been set out in the function room, and the run of French windows along one wall were open to the terrace and the view of the bay.
Liam collected a small plate of food then wandered around the room, mingling.
It was good to catch up with people he hadn’t seen for a while — so many of them had had to leave Sturcombe because of the lack of work and affordable homes.
“I was sorry to hear about your wife.”
“Thank you.” The cut was still there, deep, but he had learned to acknowledge sympathy in the way it was meant.
“But you have a little girl?”
“Yes.” He smiled and drew his phone from his pocket, always willing to show off photographs of Robyn.
“Oh, she’s so pretty. How old is she?”
“Five.”
“You must be very proud of her.”
“I am.”
He was focusing on the conversation, but inevitably he was aware of Cassie on the edge of his vision.
She had wandered out onto the terrace.
He hesitated for a moment, then followed her.
She was standing by the stone balustrade, gazing out over the bay.
The sun was shining on the water, making it sparkle like sapphires and diamonds.
The small town, nestling in a dip between the green hills around it, looked like a jumble of toy houses climbing the slopes.
“I’d almost forgotten the view from up here,” she remarked, not turning round.
“It is pretty spectacular.” He was silent for a moment.
“It was a nice funeral — as funerals go.”
“Yes. Trust Nanna to plan everything just the way she wanted it.” She turned then, and smiled at him.
“I like your tie. Did Robyn choose it?”
“I’m afraid so. It was a Christmas present.”
“Ah, she’s such a little darling. And so polite and well-behaved.”
“Most of the time.” His eyes smiled.
“She’s very good at winding me round her little finger to get her own way.”
“She’s five. Five-year-old girls are supposed to be able to wind their daddies round their little fingers. It’s in the job description.”
“She loved her tattoo. She was showing it off to everyone.”
“Has it washed off yet?”
“Not quite. Fortunately, she seems to have been satisfied with a pretend one. I was afraid she’d keep nagging me for a real one.”
“She was so sweet about it.” There was a gentle warmth in her eyes.
“Thank you for what you said — about Nanna. It must have been very hard for you, what happened, especially with it being so sudden like that.”
“It was. It’s still difficult sometimes, but you learn how to live around it.” He leaned against the balustrade, watching the waves uncurl along the beach in ribbons of white lace.
“It was the last day of our holiday, and we’d had a wonderful time. Someone had told Nat about a shop that sold dolls in Greek national costume, and she wanted to get one for Robyn. We’d left Robyn in the hotel’s creche and gone down to the village to do some last-minute shopping for a few presents and souvenirs.”
He felt as if there was a great lead weight in his chest.
“We were on our way back to the hotel when Nat spotted the shop on the other side of the road. She stepped out . . . I think in that moment she must have forgotten that they drive on the other side of the road in Greece. The poor van driver didn’t stand a chance.”
“Oh . . . I’m so sorry.” She shook her head, her eyes dark.
“That always seems such an inadequate thing to say.”
“They said it was instant. She wouldn’t have known a thing.” And he hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye.
“It’s nice that you’d had a good holiday,” she said softly.
“Something happy to remember.”
“Yes . . .” He hadn’t remembered the happy times — hadn’t let himself remember.
But .
.
.
yes, it had been a good holiday — lots of laughter with Robyn, a friendly crowd in the hotel, a couple of interesting sightseeing trips.
“Lisa said she was really nice. All Ollie’s elderly patients loved her.” She looked down at the glass of wine in her hand.
“How did you meet her?”
He took a pause, letting the memories return.
“It was at Widdecombe Fair. Dad was judging the livestock show and Mum, the dog show, and I’d gone along to help out.” He laughed.
“The first time I saw her she was eating candyfloss, and she’d got the pink all round her mouth.”
Her eyes danced.
“It’s hard to eat that stuff without getting it round your mouth.”
“Her parents’ little Jack Russell was in the terrier racing — it came third. And she challenged me to enter the bale tossing. I’m afraid I didn’t do very well in it.”
“I’m told there’s a knack to it. Some of the young farmers practice for weeks. They can get very competitive.”
“They certainly can.” For the first time in a long time the images shone bright in his mind — the blue sky, the colours of the fair, the music and the Morris dancing.
And Natalie, the sun gleaming on her golden hair, her blue eyes laughing.
Seven years ago .
.
.
The sound of voices in the ballroom cut across his thoughts.
He glanced back over his shoulder.
“Ah — people are leaving.”
“Oh, yes.” Cassie smiled.
“Excuse me, I’d better go and say goodbye.”
“Of course.” He returned the smile.
“See you later.”
He turned to gaze out over the bay again.
The sun was warm on his face, and there was a bumblebee humming over a rosemary bush clinging to the cliff below him.
There were families on the beach, building sandcastles, playing frisbee.
It was a while since he’d been here to the hotel, though it was so close.
He hadn’t been since Natalie was alive.
They used to go for long walks along the coast path on Saturday afternoons with Bramble, his dad’s springer spaniel, then come here for tea and scones.
Natalie was always full of laughter.
It was the first thing he had noticed about her, that day at Widdecombe Fair — after the pink candyfloss round her mouth.
He found himself smiling as the happy memories came dancing back.
He’d never really talked about those good times, not to anyone.
Odd that it should be Cassie who had unlocked them.
Cassie.
He was beginning to recognise the subtle changes in her that ten years had wrought.
That old sparkle was still there, but now there was a warmth that spread itself generously over a motherless little girl, an eager puppy, a man who .
.
.
He shook his head — he hadn’t worked that one out yet.
He didn’t feel like going back inside and having to talk to people.
A flight of stone steps at the side of the terrace led down to the beach.
He took off his tie, folded it into his pocket, and unfastened his collar as he felt the red-gold sand crunch beneath his feet.
Cassie.
A small smile curved his mouth.
Cassie in that pretty summer dress, the hem flirting just above her knees.
He had rarely seen her in a dress — even at her sister’s birthday party all those years ago she had been wearing jeans.
He’d known her since she was a kid — his mate Paul’s younger sister, tagging along with their gang, always game, though she had been the youngest.
But that night at the party he had been startled to notice how she was growing up — no longer the tomboy, but a very attractive young woman.
It seemed so long ago now, so much had happened.
He had loved her then, had assumed that they would have a future together.
It had hurt badly when she’d left.
It had taken him a while to acknowledge that she had probably been right to go — at eighteen, she had been too young to settle down.
And he had found happiness again with Natalie.
As Edie Channing had said, life kept moving forward — no matter how hard you tried to hold it back.
It was moving forward again now, letting the sunshine in as the dark clouds drifted away.
But it was unlikely to move forward with Cassie.
Though the echo of that old attraction was still there, time had left all that in the past.
She probably would be leaving again soon.
After all, what had Sturcombe to offer to compete with the excitement of white-water rafting, bungee jumping, diving along the Great Barrier Reef.
No, there was no point even thinking about it.