Chapter 32
32
C ally stood in the bedroom in her flat and looked at the dress hanging on the mirror in front of her. A sombre black affair with matching velvet headband. She hadn’t counted on going to a funeral in the slightest. It hadn’t been in her plans, and just as everyone else had constantly reiterated, she couldn’t quite believe it. The outfit in front of her told her she would most definitely be attending a funeral. The dress, with its slashed neckline, sleeves to the elbow, and fitted bodice, was nice, at least. After going to her grandma’s funeral, she hadn’t thought that she would be attending another one quite as soon, and certainly not one for somebody as young as Alastair. Who ever really thought that they would be going to a funeral for a young person, though? But here she was, about to dress herself from head-to-toe in black and spend the day trying to be of some use to Logan.
There was no doubt that Alastair was gone and that she was about to go to his funeral. She was well aware of that. After a bit of deliberation, she’d spent the night alone without Logan. When he’d said that he was going to be getting home late, part of her had been secretly and selfishly pleased. She’d thought that some time on his own would do him good and set him up for the next day. Maybe she was wrong…
Slipping the dress over her head and smoothing it down as it settled into place, she popped on plain black shoes on top of tights with a little heart on the ankle, then gathered her hair at the nape of her neck, twisting it into a neat, low bun. A few strategic clips secured any stray bits, and a liberal spray of hairspray went over the top. As the heavy scent of the hairspray filled the air, Cally was suddenly transported back to the day she'd first properly met the extended Henry-Hicks family at the races. She remembered the nervousness that had knotted her stomach and the feeling of being utterly out of place among Logan's posh upper-class relatives. She’d spent most of the day careering between loving the pomp and fuss of the event with feeling as if she was a fish out of water. There had also been her very awkward encounter with Logan's ex-wife. Being in a marquee with Logan’s ex flashed through her mind; that little episode hadn't helped her inferiority complex at all.
As she gazed at her reflection and looked herself up and down, Cally realised how much had changed since she’d met Logan. Even how she was dressed gave evidence to that. At this event, unlike the first few she’d attended, she’d had no worries about her attire in the slightest. In fact, she’d gone straight online and ordered the dress, found the sweet tights with the heart on the M mostly, she’d been flooded by pure and utter relief. Said relief had, in turn, made her feel guilty.
As she fiddled with a very fine, narrow strip of veil on the velvet headband, she swallowed at the thought of what was going to happen that day and how Logan was going to cope. This funeral was a whole different kettle of fish altogether to any of the ones she’d ever been to. A funeral for an older person was bad enough, but a young man in his prime, a venue ready to be swarmed by mourners, the manor, and everything that came with that made Cally unsure what was going to eventuate.
She winced as she thought about Logan as she traced the outline of her lips with a nude lip liner. He’d been in a sort of numb vortex since they’d entered the hospital and Reginald had told them the news. Right from the word go, he’d been quiet and distant and not really wanted to talk about or do anything much. It was almost as if he’d been pretending it hadn’t happened at all. Here and there he’d made an effort to snap out of it but it hadn’t really worked.
Cally hadn’t been sure what to do or how to handle it. She’d tried to just fumble her way through, hoping that he would get better with time. What she had noticed and kept quiet about was that more and more Logan was using alcohol to numb the pain. He had been drinking way too much, using wine as a crutch to make himself not feel what was going on around him. Part of Cally felt that a tiny part of Logan had died at the same time as Alastair. She perished the thought.
Finishing her lips, she went into the kitchen, bent down to the cupboard beside the fridge, grabbed a mini carton of blackcurrant, and put it in her bag. Clicking the magnetic clasp on her bag, she tapped the back of her hair to make sure it was still in place, grabbed her phone, picked up her blazer, and made her way out of the flat. After going down two floors, she sent Logan a text message:
Cally: Hi, how are you?
Logan: Yes, okay. You okay?
Cally: Not too bad. How about you?
Logan: I’m fine. Are you on your way here?
Cally: Yes, I’m just heading down now. Birdie is dropping me off.
Logan: Okay, I’ll see you soon.
Cally: Is there anything you need me to get you?
Logan: No, I’m fine.
Cally: Do you want me to bring you something from the deli?
Logan: I’m good.
Cally: Are you sure?
Logan: Yes.
Cally: Have you eaten anything?
Logan: No, I’ve just had a cup of tea. I’ll do a coffee when you get here, just before we leave.
Cally: I think you should have something to eat.
Logan: I can’t even look at food.
Cally: See you soon.
Putting her phone back in her pocket, Cally walked out of the back of the deli and along the lane to the little parking spot behind the chemist, where Birdie was just pulling up in her car. Birdie got out and raised her eyebrows as she took in Cally. Birdie looked sombre head-to-toe in black. The Shipping Forecast came from inside the car.
‘Morning. How are you?’ Birdie asked.
‘Good, well, not good, but fine. Considering the circumstances, I’m okay. You?’
Birdie nodded. ‘Yeah, I’m fine, too. I have to say going to a funeral is never my favourite way to spend a morning.’
‘Nope.’
Birdie lowered her voice. ‘Well, you scrubbed up well. Nice dress.’
‘Thank you.’ Cally took in Birdie’s beautifully cut trouser suit. ‘Same to you.’
Birdie stepped closer and peered at Cally’s headband. ‘Gosh, that’s really effective. Where did you get it?’
‘I googled “headband for funeral,” and it was the first thing that came up. ‘Given the people that will be there, I felt as if I needed a hat or something. This does the trick, doesn’t it?’
‘It does, and it’s beautiful. You nailed it. What is it? Like padded velvet knotted with a little gauze veil?’
‘Yeah. You just pop it in your hair.’
‘Nice.’
‘I wonder how this funeral is going to go?’ Cally shook her head and exhaled.
‘The actual service itself will be impeccable. I know Doreen has worked her socks off for everything to go well, but when someone so young passes away, it’s not great at the funeral, in my experience.’ Birdie sighed and shook her head. ‘Horrible and I wish I didn’t know how I know that, but there you are.’
‘Yep. I’m setting myself up for it to be awful .’
‘How’s Logan doing?’ Birdie asked.
Cally shook her head again. ‘Yeah, not great. To be frank, he’s been getting worse as this day has drawn closer.’
Birdie screwed up her lips and made a funny face. ‘I’m not surprised.’
Cally paused for a second. ‘He’s been drinking way too much. I really don’t like it.’
Birdie swore. ‘That’s the way he’s dealing with it then, is it?’
‘It is.’ Cally sighed. ‘I don’t know, but I’m hoping today will give some closure or something. I don’t mean that in a nasty way.’
‘No, no, of course not. I get you. He’ll be fine; he’s a good lad. He just needs to put today behind him and go through the stages of grief.’
‘Mmm. True.’
‘What about you? Are you alright? You’re right in the middle of it all.’
Cally nodded. ‘I'm managing. It's not easy.’
Birdie gave a sympathetic smile. 'It’s tough. Give it time. Come on, let's get going.'
Cally walked around and climbed into the front seat of Birdie’s huge car, smoothed her dress over her knees and tucked her bag in the footwell. They chatted as Birdie drove through Lovely, out past the lighthouse, and down into the lanes as fields of green stretched out on either side. A few grazing sheep dotted the fields here and there, and the occasional ancient oak tree lined the road. In the distance, Cally could just make out the outline of Lovely Manor, its imposing silhouette surrounded by a sea of red poppies.
'I've always loved this drive when the poppies are out. It's so peaceful out here.'
Cally nodded. 'It is beautiful. I can see why the Henry-Hicks family chose this spot for their home back in the day.'
As they got closer, signs of the day's event became more apparent. A few cars lined the long driveway, dots of men in dark suits and women in sombre dresses made their way towards the house. To the left, Cally could see the large white marquee she’d helped Doreen to prepare. Cally swallowed at the sheer scale of the event, and as they pulled up to the ornate iron gates, one of the ground staff, not in his usual work gear but smartly dressed in a black suit and tie, approached the car. Birdie rolled down her window.
The man recognised them instantly. ‘Oh, morning, our Cally, Birdie.’
Birdie nodded. ‘I'm just dropping off our Cally.’
‘Right you are. You’ll need to go left there and around the back. We’re keeping cars off the main driveway as much as we can.’
Cally shook her head and reached for the door handle. 'No, no. I'd prefer to walk if that's alright.'
'Of course.’
Cally turned to Birdie. 'Thanks for the lift. I’ll see you at the church.’
Birdie reached over and squeezed Cally’s hand. 'See you later. Give my best to Logan. Tell Doreen to just shout if she needs anything. I’ll keep checking my phone. Colin is on standby, too.'
‘Will do.’ Cally lowered her voice as she got out of the car. ‘To be honest, I can’t wait for this to be over.’
‘I don't think you’re the only one.’