2. Fired at The Funeral
I n the back of the hearse, Poppy peered up at the blue sky trying to break through the dark clouds. Putting on her oversized sunglasses, she took a deep breath, preparing herself for the performance of her life –her aunt’s funeral.
Although her aunt had preferred living in the States, Poppy had always cherished returning to Ireland, where she’d been born and raised until her aunt took custody of her at age eight.
She had hoped that a quick burial in Ireland would limit the number of attendees.
Still, hundreds had flown in to pay their respects.
Given the scale of their combined fame, the media attention had been relentless despite her requests for privacy.
“We should get inside,” her boyfriend, Joshua, said as he opened her door, playing the perfect gentleman for the cameras.
She couldn’t wait to officially break up; she was tired of their business relationship.
They were friends, and while she cared for him, her aunt had encouraged the arrangement to keep other guys away.
Joshua was happy to oblige, since it benefitted his career.
But she was ready to go back to being friends.
Stepping out of the car in her aunt’s black Chanel suit and pearls, Poppy let the cameras find her as the crowd’s tears and cheers overwhelmed her senses.
She reminded herself that she would be truly free in a few hours.
Her perfect blonde hair was slicked into a low bun at the nape of her neck, and her large black sunglasses emphasised her bold red lips.
Once she was sure they had got their shot, she started up the steps to the church and noticed an older woman being pushed and shoved by the door.
Avid fans were grappling to get her attention, Poppy quickly caught the woman before she fell.
“Please don’t push; my aunt would be grateful to all of you for wanting to attend, but please be mindful of each other,” Poppy said softly. She wanted to scold the crowd, but with so many cameras around, now wasn’t the time to lose her temper.
“Sorry to cause a fuss– I lost my balance,” the elderly woman said as Poppy helped her through the doors and out of the rain.
“No fuss at all. I’m sorry you were almost trampled,” Poppy replied.
Her security hovered at the door, watching the woman suspiciously as the coffin was removed and taken inside. Poppy noticed the ladybird brooch on the woman’s black coat and realised she had seen it before.
“Sorry, but do we know each other?” she asked.
“No – I mean, sort of. I’m Emily Green, and thank you for your help.
” The flustered woman smiled at her. “I run the Ladybird House Orphanage. You were only with us briefly, when you were a little thing, before your aunt took custody of you. You probably don’t remember your time with us; you were so young.
Your aunt donated generously every year, and I wanted to come pay my respects. ”
That explained the brooch. Poppy not remembering her time at the orphanage wasn’t surprising.
It had been eighteen years since her parents had been killed in a car accident, and the memories had become a blur.
What surprised her, however, was the knowledge that her aunt had donated to a children’s charity for all those years.
Was it for a tax exemption? Giving to children would have played in her favour in the media, so why make the donations anonymously?
Aunt Martha never let a good deed go unpublished.
“I’m sure Aunt Martha would appreciate your coming.
I’m sorry you had to wait out in the rain.
My security will ensure you get home safely.
” Poppy reached into her small purse and pulled out a card.
“Here’s my email address in case you need anything.
I can also stop by the orphanage and say hi to the kids?
” She needed to get inside before the priest tracked her down.
“Really?” Emily beamed, putting the card in her coat pocket. “I’m sure the kids would love that.”
“No need to thank me, and I’ll make sure to keep up the donations.”
“I didn’t come for money, but your generosity is greatly appreciated, especially by the older kids.” Emily beamed, tears of relief glistening in her eyes.
“Please don’t mention it, and feel free to email me if there is anything else. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible,” Poppy said. She never shared her number – if she gave it to one person, suddenly everyone had it. Email was easier for situations like this.
“I will. Thank you, and I’m sorry again for your loss,” Emily said, gently patting Poppy’s arm.
“Are you not going to stay for the funeral?” Poppy asked.
“I really just came to see you and pay my respects. Now that we’ve talked, I have to get back to the children,” Emily said apologetically.
“I’m glad we got to talk. Please allow Marty to take you home or wherever you need to go.” Poppy waved over Marty, her aunt’s longest-serving bodyguard, from her security team.
“Thank you, and I wish you every happiness in the future,” Emily said as Poppy helped her navigate the slippery steps with her cane.
“Please grab my umbrella from the car and make sure Ms Green gets home,” Poppy instructed Marty. She didn’t want the elderly woman to struggle through the crowd or wait for a taxi in the rain.
“I’d be happy to escort you,” Marty said brightly, offering Emily his arm.
“Such a gentleman.” Emily smiled as she accepted his help, allowing him to lead her away from the gravel entrance.
Poppy mouthed a thank you to Marty, who nodded in response.
She watched as they left the grounds. In spite of her desire for a private funeral, discovering her aunt’s single good deed made her feel there might have been some light in her late aunt’s soul.
“Poppy?” Joshua called as he came over, running a hand through his highlighted hair, speckled with rain from greeting the fans outside. “Who was that? They want to get started.”
“Just someone paying their respects,” she said, following him down the packed pews to the front row. They’d never talked about her younger years; now wasn’t the time to start.
In the first pew, Poppy stared at the casket, waiting for Aunt Martha to pop out and tell everyone what Poppy had done that night. So far nobody seemed to even imagine that she’d had any involvement in her aunt’s death, but Poppy would only truly be relieved when the casket was six feet under.
She kept her shades on for the service, a tissue clutched tightly in her hand to ensure she gave the right impression. Joshua awkwardly gripped her hand.
As the priest began the final prayer, Poppy heard a commotion outside but couldn’t see anything.
She was glad she had hired extra security.
Martha would be so pleased to see how desperate people were to grieve for her.
Poppy couldn’t help but smile at the image of her aunt staring up at them, delighted by the crowds gathered in her memory.
“Ms Roe?” the priest whispered, reclaiming her attention. “If you’d like to join me at the front of the casket so the parishioners can offer their sympathies.”
Parishioners? I’m surprised half of those in attendance didn’t burst into flames when they stepped into the church.
Poppy kept the thought to herself, offering the priest a small smile before following him up the small steps to stand with a few of her aunt’s friends.
The priest directed the queue of mourners eager to shake her hand or squeeze her a little too tightly.
Poppy was relieved they had limited this part to only ten minutes.
Luckily, she managed to muster up some tears, reminding herself to give her acting coach a big tip.
“Quite the turnout. If only Martha could see how beloved she is,” her aunt’s manager – and Poppy’s by default – whispered in her ear. She shuddered in disgust. Since none of Martha’s four ex-husbands had come to mourn her, Duggery Dayson was about as close as she got to having a life partner here.
“That’s because they didn’t know her. They loved the characters she played,” Poppy whispered back, shaking hands with people who told her how sorry they were and how lucky she was to have been raised by such a beloved legend.
It felt endless, no matter how many hands she shook or cheeks she kissed.
Being a great actress didn’t make her aunt a good person.
“Don’t say such things. We’re in a church,” Duggery scolded her.
“And the church is all about being honest,” Poppy countered, taking flowers from a young fan.
“Your aunt loved you and would want you to continue her legacy,” Duggery pontificated. The smell of horrible cigars on his breath made her inch away from him.
“Loved me? It’s a sin to lie in a church, and I have no plans to continue her legacy. You both forced me into this life, and now that she’s dead, I will decide what happens next,” she whispered as the priest thanked everyone for attending the service.
“We can talk about this later. Now isn’t the time or place for one of your temper tantrums,” Duggery snapped.
Poppy turned to face him and took his arms as though consoling him.
He had been their manager since her aunt was a teenager, so she didn’t know how he was still alive.
She suspected he had made a pact with the devil to inflict as much misery as possible on turning people’s dreams into nightmares in exchange for a long life.
“Don’t worry, you won’t have to worry about my temper tantrums any longer because you’re fired,” she whispered, giving him a final hug. Her hands shook as she dared to do what she’d desperately wanted to for as long as she could remember.
“You can’t fire me!” Mr Duggery tightened his grip on her elbow. This will be the last time he ever touches me.
“Yes, I can. The lawyers are already breaking any legal ties between us. I wouldn’t advise you to stop it, unless you want your dirty laundry aired publicly. You worked with my aunt for a long time, and there are too many skeletons to count.”
“You ungrateful bitch,” he hissed as the church started to empty around them.
“Unless you want to cause a scene, you will leave now. You will feign how overwhelmed you are, leave, and never show your face again.” Poppy dabbed her eyes with a tissue.
“I’ve made you who you are. Your aunt would turn in her grave to see how you’re treating me!” he whined, but she didn’t buy his crocodile tears.
“You thought I didn’t know about the pills you were feeding my aunt.
How you made her dependent on you. How you wanted her to slip me the same pills, which she tried and failed.
You controlled her for years and used her to get your claws into me.
Leave, unless you want the police to take a closer look at her autopsy.
I might suggest there might have been something wrong with her medication.
Smile politely, fake tears, and never see me again,” Poppy told him, finally daring to stand up to the weasel of a man she’d been terrified of for over a decade.
The priest interrupted at the perfect time.“Ms Roe, if you’d like to follow the casket out, we can start making our way to the cemetery.”
“Thank you. I’ll walk with you,” Poppy said, wondering where Joshua had gone. He’d been beside her a minute ago. He was supposed to help shield her from everyone.
“Mr. Duggery will be joining you in the car?” the priest asked politely.
“Oh no, he won’t be coming with us. He isn’t feeling well and is leaving early,” Poppy replied.
He gave her a confused look, and she nodded, biting her lip as if to hold back a sob. She was actually trying to stifle laughter. The relief, joy, and elation swelling in her chest nearly made her break character. The two monsters in her closet were gone.
At the church doors, they watched as the casket was loaded.
From the corner of Poppy’s eye, she noticed her security team stepping forward to escort Mr Duggery to another car.
To onlookers, it would only appear that she was giving her overwhelmed, grieving manager a private escort home.
Knowing what was best for him, he didn’t protest.
“Where’s Dug going?” Joshua asked, putting out his cigarette. So that was where he had gone.
“I fired him.”
“You what?” Joshua’s eyes widened in shock.
“I don’t need him anymore, and my aunt certainly doesn’t,” Poppy said bluntly, opening the car door. Joshua froze, staring at her as if she had lost her mind.
“Are you getting in?” she asked.
Joshua nodded. “Are you sure you should be making such big decisions right now? You’re grieving,” he said as he climbed in beside her.
“Exactly. Now that Martha’s gone, I realise how important life is, and I think I need to make some changes.” She removed her shades and placed them on her lap.
Joshua smiled nervously as their driver pulled out of the church courtyard. “Whatever you think is best,” he said, taking her hand.
Poppy rested her head on his shoulder and stared out the window. Her aunt was dead, her manager was gone, and the gruelling tour she had devoted the last year of her life to was over.