‘Maybe,’ Persey replied.
Dido adjusted the gauze on her hat that didn’t sit quite right. ‘Horrific day.’
Persey breathed deeply. ‘Yes. And it’s only just begun.’
‘It’ll be all right you know,’ Dido encouraged. ‘Once this bit’s over.’
‘I know,’ Persey said, not quite believing it was true; not quite believing they were burying their mother either.
‘You look nice,’ Dido said.
Persey stepped away from the window and embraced her sister. ‘Thanks,’ she said, looking at Dido properly, taking time to look at her lovely sister. ‘On second thoughts, leave the lipstick on. You look beautiful.’
‘One tries,’ Dido joked. ‘Must go sparingly on the lipstick. One doesn’t know where one’s next stick of Yardley is coming from.’
Persey looked at her wristwatch and sighed deeply. ‘I’ll fetch Mrs Grant and Jack. We should leave now if we’re going to make it to the church in good time. No funeral motorcar to take us now you know.’
‘He’s not all bad you know,’ Dido said.
Persey frowned. ‘Who?’
‘Stefan, silly. He’s just how I remembered him.’
‘I didn’t think you did remember him,’ Persey returned.
‘He’s kind.’
‘I know.’ She couldn’t think about Stefan anymore. She’d hardly known him back then and she hardly knew him now. Persey squeezed her sister’s arm gently and braced herself for the day ahead.
Chapter 15
The organist began the first few bars of ‘Jerusalem’. Dido had chosen that particular hymn for the funeral because it had been Mother’s favourite, but Persey now saw it was a fitting choice for another reason. She hoped the mourners might appreciate the hint at patriotism in the midst of the solemnities as she sang, ‘England’s green and pleasant land,’ louder than she might normally have done.
Next to Persey, Mrs Grant was crying into a handkerchief and at the far end of the pew Jack wasn’t singing at all, simply staring through his hymnbook, his face impassive. He was now effectively a British spy trapped in enemy territory. They’d had no time to talk privately since the events of the previous night and she wanted so very much to reassure him that everything would be all right; that they needn’t change their story.
Persey didn’t even glimpse Stefan until the moment arrived that she had been dreading. The moment she remembered so well from her father’s funeral two years earlier. The weather had become progressively colder in the short time since they had entered the church and now, standing by the graveside, she shivered.
The vicar had been reciting words for only a moment and Persey wiped her tear-stained eyes, forcing her gaze away from the awful space where her mother’s coffin had just been lowered.
‘We therefore commit her body to the ground; earth to earth,ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life …’
Dido’s hand found Persey’s. Persey wished so desperately that she could do something to make everything better; that she could get Dido off the island so she wouldn’t have to endure the rest of the Occupation and all the horrors it might bring with it; that she could get Jack to safety, although she knew that if that seemed out of the control of the British navy then in all likelihood it was out of her control too. She wished she could bring her mother back. She wished she could do something useful for Lise.
Overhead a bird swooped and fell on the rise and fall of a pocket of air. It barely needed to flap its wings. Up and down it went, up and down, lulling Persey into a daze. Dido squeezed her hand and Persey forced her attention away from the bird and its peaceful roaming of the sky. As she did so, she saw him, on the other side of the grave, behind her mother’s friends from the knitting circle. He was a full head and shoulders above the women in front. He was watching her, a look of concern on his face.
Persey wasn’t sure if she should smile in recognition of Stefan or be horrified he was there. Her first instinct was to be pleased he had been thoughtful enough to attend. Had he come because he felt genuinely sympathetic towards her and Dido and their loss? Or had he come out of a sense of duty and because it would be strange, living in their house, if he hadn’t? Had he been inside the church the whole time or had he only just this moment arrived? There were a few interested glances from those standing beside the grave; a few nudges. Persey frowned. What did people think of him being here?
‘Persey,’ Dido whispered and Persephone came to and looked at her sister in confusion. ‘It’s your turn,’ Dido said and held out a small box of soil. Persey took a handful and threw it softly onto the coffin. She wiped sudden tears from her face before passing the box on.
At the gathering at Deux Tourelles, Stefan stood awkwardly in the corner, looking smaller than his usual stature would indicateand nursing a sherry. It wouldn’t be easy to get hold of spirits going forward, of that Persey was sure. But she knew their mother would have spun in her freshly dug grave if she’d thought her daughters had been considering restricting food and drink at an occasion such as this. And so, the girls and Mrs Grant had offered what they could, fruits and salads from items grown in the garden and also on the island including grapes, melon and even wedges from a large Camembert from France that the grocer had kept aside when Mrs Grant had mentioned the funeral to him.
Residents were swiftly learning not to expect too much in the way of outlandish culinary offerings since war broke out. At least they still had access to food from the European mainland, unlike those living on the British mainland, cut off and alone as they were from the rest of Europe. But access to better food was hardly a fair trade for living under Nazi rule.
This week Persey would return to work. At least it would be a return to a semblance of normality in a fortnight of utterly abnormal and abysmal events. As she shook hands and said goodbye to those who had said kind words and made their presence felt, she wondered, when she returned to work, if Lise would still be as distressed as she had been in Candie Gardens. What on earth could Persey do to help?
Doctor Durand was one of the last to leave and having said goodbye to Dido he gave Persey a sympathetic look at the front door. ‘The worst has passed,’ the doctor said. ‘I’m no expert but now you can grieve. And then …’
‘And then?’
