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13

Charlotte

The funeral was more fun than Charlotte had expected such an event to be. Having personally informed as many of Grandma’s groups as she could find contacts for, and then put an advertisement in the local paper, the crematorium was full, at least a hundred people showing up to see Grandma off on her final journey.

Grandma had always attracted positive people, from her sports clubs to her social groups. While there were plenty of tears to go around, there was also an abundance of smiles and laughter. Charlotte, standing by the door with Kelly offering moral support beside her, greeted a seemingly endless line of old women, and more than a few old men, one or two who chewed around their false teeth and muttered about how they’d wished they could have got a ring on her finger when they’d had a chance.

‘Most eligible widow in town,’ one old man said, squinting at her through bifocals while leaning on a Zimmer frame. ‘Had it not been for those arthritic joints of hers, I’d have had a ring on her finger and got her back up the aisle.’

‘There’s something about age that loosens your tongue, isn’t there?’ Kelly said.

‘Isn’t it refreshing?’

‘To a point. We haven’t had any weirdos yet.’ She sighed. ‘Give it time.’

‘It’s a funeral,’ Charlotte said with a cheery smile. ‘For many, it’ll be their last chance.’

‘Shall we have a bet on who’s next?’ Kelly said. ‘My pound’s on that old dear over there. She’s leaning so close to the coffin she might fall in.’

Charlotte smiled. ‘For a nurse, you have a dark sense of humour.’

‘I’m off duty. It’s allowed.’

‘Florence Nightingale when you have your scrubs on?’

Kelly grinned. ‘Of course.’

A couple of group leaders got up to make a speech; then it was Charlotte’s turn. While she had remained cheerful before, now the tears came unbidden. She had thought a couple of tissues would be enough, but halfway through her speech Kelly had to pass her a handkerchief, and Charlotte paused for a moment to blow her nose.

‘There’s not a lot else I can say,’ she concluded. ‘All that’s left is to say thank you.’ She looked around at the coffin, about to make its way into the incinerator. ‘I have no memory of my parents, but I think that’s thanks to you, for the way you brought me up, in a world filled with joy and love. You taught me to look forward, not to look back. Even though you’re now gone, I’ll continue to do that.’ As people began to clap, she leaned forward into the microphone again, suddenly remembering what time of year it was. ‘And … Merry Christmas!’

A couple of cheers popped out of the muted clapping. Charlotte stepped back from the microphone and smiled. The funeral director stepped up, thanking her, and a couple of minutes later, Grandma was on her way. Charlotte watched until the curtain closed, then wiped away a final tear.

‘Goodbye, dear, dear Grandma,’ she whispered, loud enough only for herself to hear.

At least half the guests were interested in attending the wake at Aunt Marjorie’s Tea Room, set for one p.m. Charlotte wanted to change out of her black dress into something a little more upbeat, so headed back home with Kelly in tow. The teahouse was pet friendly, so after they had both got changed, Charlotte put Harry into the car and they headed back into Brentwell.

‘That was nice,’ Kelly said, as Charlotte drove. ‘I mean, for a funeral. Good to see so many people show up. I didn’t see any sketchy distant relations, looking to bag a bit of her cash, either.’

‘No, I didn’t either.’

‘You know, I’m worried about how you’re going to cope living on your own,’ Kelly said. ‘It’s always been the pair of you, hasn’t it?’

‘I still have Harry,’ Charlotte said, as the dog, in the back seat, responded with an enthusiastic bark. ‘And I’m back at work from tomorrow. It’ll be different, that’s for sure.’ She sighed. In truth, she didn’t really want to think about it. Grandma had given their house its soul. Without her … she wasn’t sure if she would cope or not. Her only real plan was to throw herself into her job and preparations for Christmas … a Christmas she was now set to spend alone.

‘If you want, I can stop round for a glass of wine tomorrow night, see how you’re coping,’ Kelly said. ‘Ease you into living alone gently.’

‘Oh … tomorrow? I … can’t.’

‘I suppose you’ll be busy at work, after taking a week off.’

‘It’s not that … I have … a … have a … date.’

Kelly twisted in the car. ‘What? You didn’t tell me. Who?’

Harry barked again, as though also wishing to know more.

Charlotte’s cheeks filled with heat. ‘Ah … the … um … magician.’