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“She was sick,” Tom said in a flat voice, putting his arm around me. “Really sick.”
Harry nodded.
I inhaled a shuddering breath. Memories swirled in my mind: the noise of the emergency room, the smell of hospital antiseptic, the hospital bed sheets against my skin, and endless blood pressure measurements and observations by the nursing staff.
Tom withdrew his arm to retrieve Grandad Cec’s Order of Service from the floor. “My first funeral was eleven months ago,” Harry whispered. “It was fucking rough.”
I squeezed his hand and he squeezed mine back.
“I’m so sorry about Mrs Hughes.” Harry’s sad eyes searched my face, his hand strong and warm around mine.
Tom saw our hands but said nothing. The minister stood up and began the service.
“We’re here today to say farewell to Lynnette Mabel Hughes …”
I pushed aside thoughts of Harry, and my dad, and gave myself over to grief.
* * *
Granny Lynn had planned a short service with no wake. Canapes were served in the back room of the chapel. I’d lost Harry in the crowd. Several had pounced on him, all eager to meet the new doctor. Tom held up a plate of food, insisting I eat something.
“You’ve hardly eaten a thing all week.”
I glared and he pushed the plate into my hands. “I noticed, Stace. Make sure you eat.”
I bit into a mini-quiche under Tom’s scrutiny when the Zanetti family approached. He stiffened, his mini-quiche crumbling in his hands.
“Stacey, you look lovely,” Mama Zanetti said softly, kissing me on each cheek. She wore a black lace veil over her hair.
“Hello, Tom. You look well. I don’t see you these days. Why I don’t see you?”
Tom cleared his throat, wiping his hands on the back of his pants. “Been at uni. Good to see you, Mama Zanetti.”
He stuck out his hand for her to shake but she pulled him in for a hug.
Rosie glared at him.Huh.They’d always been good friends growing up.
Her face softened when she noticed me. We’d always been friendly growing up but she was much closer to Amanda.
“You always visited Granny Lynn,” Rosie whispered. “You were a good neighbour to her.”
“She liked to talk to me about drawing, painting and design,” I said, dumping my mini-quiche into the potted plant. “She was more than just a neighbour. She was my friend.”
Rosie’s eyes were sincere with sadness. She was about to speak when her mother released Tom from her vice-like arms.
“You take care of your sister, Tom. All of your sisters. And you, Stacey, you visit and I bake you cake. You too skinny. Now, Rosie. Manners, eh? You say hello to Tom.”
“Hello Tom,” Rosie said.
They scrutinized each other, the silence drawing out when eventually, Tom mumbled a hello. Rosie nodded once.
“Ah, I forget!” Mama Zanetti exclaimed. “Rosie is engaged to boyfriend. We too have a wedding in the family.”
Tom startled. “What?”
Rosie looked sharply at her mother. “Mama, we promised Amanda we’d announce my engagement after her party.”
Mama Zanetti rolled her eyes and shrugged. “Everyone needs cheering up. Amanda won’t care. Besides, she in Sydney and we are here.”
