His obviousexcitement took Gemma a little by surprise, even though it wasexactly what she wanted too – Mark going for it and taking over. Itwas quite disturbing in some ways, the ease with which she’d gothim to return to the very behaviour that had supposedly ruined hiscareer and wasted six-plus years of his life. It gave her adefinite sense of power too; and he had no idea that for her thiswas the start of things, the start of a new life which she had nointention of him being a part of. It wasn’t that she was going toabandon him altogether, she would make sure he got what he deservedfor helping her out and meanwhile there was no harm in having somefun together. Gemma had always been pretty single-minded in termsof what she wanted and needed to do and when. Sure, she could playthe part of lover, partner or accomplice and play it well, but thatwas all, a temporary necessity; it might even be pleasant enoughbut not forever. It wasn’t hatred or anything like that – just thatshe’d had enough of that part of her life. She wanted him to behappy too, but just not necessarily with her.
‘Yes goodthinking, Mark. Let’s get her to spend next weekend at ours and wecan come and stay here over Christmas and try to get it allfinished then. There’s lots of room here and you’re right, the weekbetween Christmas and New Year would be ideal. Dr Ferguson will behappy to get things done quickly and without too many questions,and so will the funeral people too.’
Gemma put her armsaround Mark and kissed him.
‘I do fancy you whenyou take charge and spell out how you’re going to sort everythingout. Let’s get back home after lunch, we don’t need to spend twonights here. We’ll make sure my mother’s comfy and I’ll leave hersome sandwiches for tea. You can do what you want with methen.’
She hoped that, whenit came down to it, letting him down gently might work butrealistically was hardly confident it would. In fact, the way Markhad been recently, rather too needy and going on about their futuretogether, she knew that was an absurdly optimistic expectation.Still, one thing at a time.
Wednesday 6 January1982
It had been along day and quite a stressful last couple of weeks but as Gemmapoured a final drink for herself and Mark, whisky for him and aglass of wine for her, she felt a glow of something akin tosatisfaction. Everything had gone so smoothly and basically just asthey had intended. The funeral that morning had been a very low-keyaffair: firstly a service at the crematorium in Aldershot, thenearest to Farnham, and then a small gathering at the family housein Lynch Lane. Ruth had come down from London along with a couplewho had known Anne and Jeffrey when he had worked at the Cunardoffice in London. They had stayed until early evening. Dr Fergusonhad come, along with his wife, there had been two of Anne’s golfingfriends and a few of the neighbours who’d got to know Anne sincethe party there last September. And of course, and seemingly moreupset than anyone, Edith, along with her husband. That had been asurprise to Gemma as she had never seen or even heard mention of ahusband, but Alfred turned out to be a surprisingly chirpycharacter who insisted on telling everyone how her mother haddepended on Edith for just about everything. Her uncle’s partnerJoseph had sent a condolence card from Spain but had been too illto travel.
Gemma pulled herarmchair over to the French windows, next to Mark, and looked outover the patio and lawn and to the fruit trees beyond.
‘I’ll be gladto get rid of this house, it deserves to have someone living herewho appreciates it. You know, I always dreamt of being part of abig family here, I even had an imaginary one when I was younger.It’s a shame to say but it was never the place it should have beenfor me, or my dad, and probably not for Mother either. I wonder howlong it will all take to sort out.’
Mark reached acrossand put his hand on her arm.
‘I thinkthat’s probably for the best. Yes, it is a lovely place and maybedoes deserve better; we’ve done what we planned and it’s time tomove on. I can’t believe how well it’s worked out; as well as thehouse, you’ve just got the odds and ends from the will to deal withand it’ll all be over. I’ll organise selling off any bits andpieces worth anything. And you’ve sorted your job out as well sodon’t have to worry about that anymore.’
Gemma waspretty confident that the will and her legacy would be no problem.When Jeffrey was ill he and her mother had prepared a will thatleft everything to Anne herself and then, if and when she shoulddie, to Gemma. There were no complications and no additions, shewas sure of that; her mother probably had no intention of dyingwhen it was drawn up. It had been useful that after her fatherdied, over four years ago now, his side of the family had hadvirtually no contact with Anne or Gemma since then. As well as thatAnne herself had been an only child and had no family left apartfrom Gemma. Anyway she knew it wasn’t going to be anything like inthose films and plays where everyone gathered in the living roomwhile the will was read out to the accompaniment of knowing looks,nods and groans; and with the finger of suspicion pointing directlyto the main beneficiary.
‘Well I’mgoing to see the family’s solicitors next week, they’re based inSouth Street right in the
