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Eventually, I reached the back door, kicked off my gum boots, and rushed over to the wood stove in the kitchen. I sighed, turning slowly in front of it, soaking up its warmth.
“I’m in the house now. Thanks for being on the phone.”
“Promise me you’ll stay inside tonight.”
“I promise.”
“Good.” Harry paused. “I’ll let you get to bed, then. Good night, Stacey.”
“Good night. And Harry?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for calling. I mean it.”
“Any time, Anastasia. Any time.”
16
STACEY
Ballydoon Community Group:
Stanmore Funeral Services posted Sunday 11.21 am:
A notice was published in the weekend paper but in case you missed it, here are the details for Granny Lynn’s memorial service:
Mrs Lynnette Hughes—Granny Lynn—will be laid to rest tomorrow at 10:30am at the chapel on Pioneer St, Ballydoon.
Light refreshments will follow. All are welcome to attend and celebrate her life. Granny Lynn specifically requested no flowers.
Limited parking. Elsie has asked people to be mindful of her garden edging when parking on the street.
Peacock feathers swayed over Granny Lynn’s open coffin. She’d loved them as decorations in her home. I’d taken six from her living room as decoration for the chapel.
I missed my friend. I wanted to talk to her about making my pitch. About ideas for her house. Just have a cup of tea and talk.
I kept mulling over random events of last week, unable to focus. I hadn’t gone to work. Pam had insisted I take the week off. Harry had checked every day to see how I was, sometimes by text, other times a phone call. On Tuesday, he’d called after footy practice, telling me stories about the players. Wednesday, he’d made me laugh by texting memes and GIFs.
Yesterday, he’d called while I was at Granny Lynn’s house making sure it was secure before I took some peacock feathers. Dust had already settled on every surface. He’d asked about the funeral and that he’d come if he could change his patient bookings.
The service was about to start and there was no sign of him.
I smoothed my dress over my legs and crossed them, then recrossed them, twisting the Order of Service in my hand.
“You okay?” Tom asked beside me with Grandad Cec on his right. “You busting or something?”
“I don’t need to go to the toilet,” I hissed.
“You sure? Looks like you need to pee really bad.”
“I don’t need to pee.”
Someone cleared their throat. Harry was at the end of our pew, gesturing to the space beside me.
“Is anyone sitting here?” The chapel was packed. “Unless you’re saving this for Sam or your mum?”
I shook my head. “You can sit here.”
