Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Harry
Present day
The memory dissipates into thin air, bringing my attention back to the present and the dark wooden coffin being lowered into the ground. I clear my throat, moving my stiff neck round in a slow circle to shift the weight. Even now, even after all this time, I still ache for Gigi’s presence.
But we haven’t had contact in weeks – not since the death of her mother.
I wonder what she’s thinking; whether she’s taken it hard.
It’s a rare sunny day. Light breaks between the clouds, casting an eerie glow on the burial plot right beside Mum’s.
Her headstone reads: “Beloved Mother and Wife. Always in Our Hearts.” It’s never been in me to change it, but the connection to Dad always makes me feel unsettled inside.
I gave him the same respect in death he treated me with in life – fuck all.
His body could be rotting in a dumpster for all I care, and that would still be too respectful of a respecting place. Unfortunately, he’s right beside her.
“Harry.” Emily’s voice is a hushed whisper. “You’re snarling.”
I blink quickly, hiding that anger with the same downcast expression you’re supposed to wear at a burial. Greg’s death is devastating, yet the wrath in my bones is too powerful for me to stay upset.
I stand at the edge of the grave, mud seeping into my shoes, hands clenched so tight my knuckles ache.
It’s just Emily and me. I didn’t see the need for a family presence – not that we have any anyway – nor did I need a priest to drone on about peace, eternity, and souls being laid to rest when there’s still justice to be found.
In addition to all of that, I wouldn’t have the faintest idea what Greg would want for his funeral since he was practically a stranger to me in recent years.
I scan the outskirts of the cemetery behind the collar of my black coat, searching for any sign of Richard, only to come up empty.
Greg may have been a nuisance, but his death was inhumane.
Body splayed out on the floor of a convenience store without an ounce of decency, a gaping hole in his head, cameras wiped, and footage erased.
Only one other person has access to London’s cameras the way I do, and they sit in the centre of the Circle.
I know it’s Richard.
He’ll think this ends with Greg in the ground.
But I’m still above it.
The pallbearers step back, dropping their heads respectfully. I thank them with a stiff nod as they walk away. Their footsteps exit slowly, leaving us in the quiet, apart from the occasional gust of wind making the remaining leaves on the sparse branches rattle above us.
Emily’s hand settles on my arm. “I’m so sorry, Harry.”
I give her a faint nod and the beginnings of a smile. “Thank you for coming.”
She sniffles. “Of course.”
“Do you think it’s weird Gigi’s not here?” I feel the weight of Emily’s stare as I confess, “I’d have shown up for her mother’s funeral if she’d had one, no questions asked.”
“She’s grieving, Harry.” She sighs, digging into her handbag for her keys. “And she might not even know about Greg.”
“You’re right.”
But I can’t shake the feeling something is off.
I tilt my head towards the car park. The gravel crunches beneath our feet as we step onto the path, heading to our vehicles. I unlock my Bentley, watching as the lights blink a few metres away.
“Shall we grab a drink?”
“I’ve got stuff to attend to.”
“Stuff?” She blinks, surprised. “Harry, you’ve just buried your brother. Let’s grab a drink and reminisce about all the good family memories.”
I hike a brow. The good family memories. What good family memories?
I might as well be saying, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
She shakes her head, correcting herself. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“With all due respect,” – I slip off my coat and chuck it across the passenger seat, slamming the car door behind me – “I need to get the fuck out of here.”
“I’m not fighting you on this.”
“Then don’t.”
I round the car to the passenger side, rolling the sleeves of my shirt up to my elbows and fastening the buttons. Emily watches me over the roof and sighs, exasperated, admitting defeat with the drop of her head.
“Fine. But call me if you need anything.”
“I doubt I will.”
She rolls her eyes. “Always one for honesty.”
“Take care of yourself.” I offer her a final smile before ducking into the car and starting the engine.
Thirty minutes later, I’m pulling up outside my house. Poppy’s familiar Corsa, dated and disgustingly bright, sits on the pavement. The piercing red is almost as vibrant as her hair.
I stride towards the front door, barely remembering to lock the car as I push inside. She doesn’t raise her head at my arrival, which makes my pulse race as I storm over to her. Her shoulders are hunched, eyebrows drawn in close, as she works on papers scattered across my kitchen island.
“Where. Is. She?”
“Who?”
“You know damn well who.” I press my palms flat on the surface, breathing steadily. “Gigi. Where is she?”
Poppy chews on the lid of her pen, not bothering to look up. “How would I know?”
“You’ve been at the Circle headquarters. Is she there? Have you seen her?”
“Only now and then. I’m obviously busy right now, trying to work out this stupid fucking seating plan.” She throws her hands towards the papers.
I tilt my head. The scene reminds me of when Gigi and Mia used to have their detective meetings, seeking answers for Jack’s death.
Thinking of Mia reminds me I’ll have to check in on Andy at some point.
He’s something of a mystery nowadays. Now that I think about it, I haven’t heard from him in months.
“And Leo’s uncle wants to be seated beside us, but I can’t say the feeling is mutual.”
“Leo?”
Poppy raises her left hand, signalling to her engagement ring as if that’s answer enough.
“You never speak about him.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Considering you’re marrying him next week, I’d say there must be a lot.” I follow her round the table as she starts looking through other scraps of paper, grunting with disapproval when they’re not what she’s after. “Poppy.”
“What do you want me to say?” She empties her hands with a huff, finally sparing me some attention. “Can we speak about this later? I’m trying to make room for Richard’s extra plus-one. He was so insistent about inviting someone last-minute, but there’s no space!”
Defeated, she drops down into a chair, running her fingers through her knotted strands before dropping her head in her palms. I lean back against the table, folding my arms over my chest and crossing one ankle over the other.
“Give her my seat.”
She grumbles into her skin. “Who says you’re invited?”
I smirk, peering over my shoulder towards the million sheets of paper.
She’s scribbled circles and an abundance of names on pink Post-it Notes.
Leo seems to have a huge fucking family, so I’m oblivious to most people, but the odd name I’m familiar with.
I’m mid-search for myself or perhaps Gigi when Poppy withdraws her hands.
“I need to ask you something, actually.”
I feel her gaze on my face before I peer down, watching her trail her eyes over my outfit.
“Wait. Why are you so dressed up?”
I push myself up from the table, uncomfortable. The reminder of today builds like a tightness in my throat, forcing me to cough. “Just had business to attend to.”
“Business? You look like you’re dressed for a funeral.” She cuts herself off quickly, her face draining of colour. “Oh God. Was that today? Harry, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I brush it off, quickly finding a distraction in all the pink spread over my kitchen worktop. “What were you going to ask?”
“Never mind. It’s not a big deal.”
“What is it?”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“Poppy,” I say sternly, finally getting her attention. “Tell me.”
She peers up from her spot on the chair, watching me with a pinched expression. I nod, encouraging her to speak. She purses her lips, letting out a steady breath, her voice turning small.
“Will you give me away?”
I draw my head back in surprise and blink twice before letting a chuckle slip. Yet when I catch her neutral stare, my face softens. “Shit.” I gawk. “You’re being serious.”
The sympathy makes her grimace. She forces her head away. “Yeah, well, Dad isn’t really in a fit enough condition to be there, and I’d rather avoid looking like a loner on the aisle.”
Her confession renders me speechless. For perhaps the first time since I’ve known her, I feel sympathy towards the redhead. Something I never thought I’d say.
I’m still trying to wrap my head round everything when she shakes her head, trying to backtrack.
“Forget I said anything—” She starts to turn, but I catch her elbow. Disgust sweeps through her gaze, her attention dropping to where my hand rests on her skin. I remove it quickly, with a wince.
“Of course I will. If that’s what you want.”
She huffs, composing herself with a lift of her chin. “Great. Well, I had tons of other options if you said no. It’s no big deal.”
“Oh yeah?” I fight the grin spreading to my cheeks. “Like who?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “Hudson, maybe.”
The name I used to be well-acquainted with barrels through me. “Hudson? As in, Hudson Anderson?”
“Yeah … Not up to much nowadays though. He’s still at Richard’s side like a fucking lap dog, but the Boss has been distracted ever since Jamie Callahan came back to town—”
“Jamie Callahan?” Even saying the name makes my stomach recoil. “You mean …?”
“Gigi’s ex-boyfriend?” Poppy turns to me, giving a stiff nod. “Yeah, that dickhead. He’s been hanging round Richard for a while now, keeping quiet for the most part. But I’m telling you … something’s not right about what’s going on there.”