Sue’s eyes skidded off of her mother’s impatient expression and landed on her Uncle Steve. He was whistling in admiration at something on her brother’s phone who, when he noticed Sue looking, shot her a guilty look and pocketed the phone. Gary would’ve laughed and shouted across the room, What’s the score then, Dean-O?
Gary would’ve handled a lot of things better about today if it hadn’t been his funeral.
Sue tugged at a hangnail she hadn’t remembered having. ‘Perhaps we should leave the sandwiches out a bit longer. In case anyone who missed the service shows up.’
‘Sue, love.’ Her mother’s expression left little to the imagination. There’d be no one else showing up. ‘The agricultural show committee have the room booked from three-thirty and after that it’s Silver Surfers Book Club, so …’ Her mother was a member of the Silver Surfers and hadn’t enjoyed the latest book. Something depressing about a girl in a religious cult in America, she’d said in the car on the way here. One of those ‘worthy’ reads Carly Beacon always insisted everyone read when it was her turn to choose. Between that and her ‘endless quiches’ despite the decision to fine tune the meal to the book’s overriding theme or location, Carly Beacon was frequently the recipient of the sharper end of Bev’s tongue. Bev nodded at a smaller pyramid of sandwiches she’d briskly constructed. ‘These will make a nice meal later on. Filler anyway. Two meals even now that … well …’
Now that Gary was gone.
No one had quite managed to say it yet. Then again. He’d only died three weeks ago. It had passed in the blink of an eye. What with the shock and the paperwork and the scrambling to book the Royal Oak’s function room at such late notice, no one had had much time to wrap their heads round the fact Gary was dead, let alone absorb the surprise that he knew how to tie a noose.
If his father had been alive, Sue supposed he might’ve helped with the arrangements. Managed to find a way to contact Gary’s step-mum, who was off working on the cruise ships now, completely unaware he was gone. Perhaps if his father had been alive, this might not have happened at all.
Why were there so many leftover sandwiches?
She would’ve expected it at her own funeral. A small crowd. Fickle appetites. No shows. Oh, she had friends and such, this wasn’t a pity fest. There would’ve been some people. But she’d never had a large crowd she went around with. Not ones who’d fall apart at the seams if she died, anyway. When it came down to it, she and Gary had been a perfectly self-contained unit and that had always been enough. Perhaps they’d been a bit too self-contained. Outside of Gary’s football mates, they’d never really needed a ‘squad’ like Dean and Katie had. Ones they invited round for spontaneous barbecues and such. And anyway, Sue’d always thought they’d die at the same time. Of old age. Hand in hand. Not a care in the world about how many people did or didn’t show up at the crematorium and then, after, at the function room down the pub.
Sue scanned the faux ‘olde worlde’ oak-beamed room. It was the same place they’d had Gary’s fortieth. There’d been silly balloons and jolly handmade posters and shouting. All sorts of shouting. Jokes mostly, about the plumbing trade and Zimmer frames. They’d had hot food then. Mini fish and chips rolled up in newspaper cones and chicken wings with a guacamole type dip that had had a bit of a zip to it. There’d been quite a turn out for the birthday. More than had turned up today after the service, anyway. Cake and ice cream, she supposed, were a far better lure than hushed, awkward conversations over triangles of egg and cress.
Her sister-in-law, Katie, strode over from the small huddle of men she’d been presiding over. Katie never walked. She strode or jogged or, once, on her wedding day, glided. She pinched a sandwich between her fingertips then put it back down again, tipping her frown of displeasure into a benign smile as she gave Sue’s arm a fingertip squeeze. ‘Sue, love, this is a bit awks, but …’ she made a wincey face and then, ‘Are you still alright to look after the girls on Thursday?’
Sue frowned. Thursday. When was Thursday?
‘It’s just that it’s been a bit of a struggle to get paid help in at such late notice and now that … well …’
Now that Gary’s funeral was over? Was that what Katie was trying to say? Now that Gary’s funeral was over could they get back to normal please?
‘Of course,’ she said without entirely pinning down where Thursday fell in the realm of days beyond her dead husband’s funeral. She had work one of these days, but when exactly—
‘I completely understand if you’re not up to it, but I’ve got a regional meeting up in Manchester and Dean’s—’ Katie flicked a glance over in Sue’s brother’s direction, did a comedic little eye roll and laugh then, ‘Getting here today was quite the feat. Not that we wouldn’t have shown. Obviously. But you know what this time of year spells for Dean, don’t you?’
As it happened, Sue didn’t have to imagine what this time of year spelt for Dean because on the ride to the crematorium, Katie had filled them in on just how busy his accountancy recruitment agency was from January to April. The end of the financial year. Not quite as busy as Katie’s construction recruitment business was at the moment, but that was because her business picked up at the start of the financial year which meant, between the pair of them, they were always terrifically busy.
‘Excellent. Thanks so much, Sue.’ Katie was already turning to leave then, as an afterthought added, ‘If you feel like spending the night—’
Sue didn’t.
‘—we’re always happy to make up
