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‘That’s what Mum stipulated she wanted.’
‘Not be long until Sunny’s wedding, will it?’ Paula asked. ‘Eight weeks I think I worked it out as. Are you a bridesmaid, Courtney?’
‘Good question, Auntie Paula. I haven’t had the official request so I reckon it must be lost in the post.’ Courtney’s reply gave every indication that this subject was a sore point, especially as it was accompanied by a few under-breath mumblings which may or may not have been expletives.
Paula turned back to Shay. ‘I’ve got the rest of the week off so if you want to meet me at Mum’s tomorrow we can discuss what happens next.’ She meant dish out the money of course. Paula wasn’t the type to start packing things in boxes and organising what to do with all her mother’s effects, she just wanted to bank the cheque.
‘Yes, of course,’ said Shay, her small smile disguising her great dread.
‘How’s business, Chris?’ asked Bruce.
Chris replied in his smug, toady voice, ‘Couldn’t be better.’ He considered himself a cut above a sole-trading electrician, at least until he was chasing some investment: then he’d open up like a book with a broken spine to anyone.
‘Is this really July?’ Paula looked out of the window at the clouds which were the same miserable grey shade as her hair.
‘Sunny’s doing well for himself,’ Chris remarked, as the silver Porsche bearing Karoline and Sunny overtook the limo.
‘It’s Karoline’s car,’ said Courtney. ‘Hence the personalised number plate.’
‘Very nice.’ Chris was virtually salivating.
‘Karoline’s parents are loaded,’ added Courtney with relish. ‘Always making clever investments.’
You little minx, thought Shay.
‘There are two lots of people who have personalised reg plates, I always think,’ Courtney continued. ‘Total show-offs and those trying to cover up how old their cars are.’
‘Courtney.’ A warning from Bruce.
‘Not necessarily, Courtney,’ said Chris. ‘Both your Auntie Paula and I have them on our cars.’
Courtney’s ensuing silence spoke volumes. Shay would have words with her daughter when they were alone, unless her father got in first.
‘Awful weather,’ said Paula as the rain suddenly increased, as if someone had twisted a tap in the clouds. The limo driver upped the speed on his wipers.
‘I went to tell Dad about Mum,’ said Shay.
‘Well that was a wasted trip,’ said Paula.
‘That’s a bit harsh, Paula,’ said Bruce, stepping in.
‘I think Paula means he can’t have registered the information,’ Chris immediately came to his wife’s defence.
‘You can’t know that for sure, Chris,’ said Shay.
‘I could take an educated guess,’ replied Chris, adding, ‘Sadly’, in an attempt to head off causing offence.
Shay opened up her mouth to remonstrate but today was not a day to butt antlers, especially not with a pig-headed, stubborn, ‘I’m always right even when I’m wrong’ blubber mountain such as her brother-in-law. He’d been an arrogant piece of work when Paula first started going out with him and Shay could never figure out if her sister had beenresponsible for forming him into this finished model or if he’d formed her or if they’d both grown naturally into a pair of galvanised, self-serving shits.
The designated room in the community centre was full of people either in knots talking or queueing at the bar in the corner by the time the limo arrived there. Waitresses were ferrying cling-filmed plates of buffet fare from the kitchen to a long table. There was a lot of food.
‘Bet this cost a pretty penny,’ said Chris, who referenced money a lot.
‘Yes, it did,’ replied Shay. ‘My mum would want there to be plenty for everyone.’ Roberta had been to a few funerals over the past years and she always took great delight in telling Shay what the post-service refreshments were like. The buffet reflected the respect in which the family held the deceased, was her philosophy. By that measure, no one was going to talk about them penny-pinching today. Shay also knew as soon as that cling film came off, Chris would be elbowing pensioners out of the way to get to the pastry. She heard him mutter the word ‘excessive’ at his wife and was tempted to knee him in the balls. Bruce bought a round of drinks; it wouldn’t have entered Chris’s brain to offer first. Shay guessed he’d have conveniently disappeared by the time it came to reciprocate.
She felt a tug on her sleeve and turned round to see Dagmara dressed in her black finery, including a cloche hat with a large bow at the front which made her look very vintage and sweet.
‘Dear Shay,’ she said. Tear lines had cut through the thickly applied powder on her face. ‘That was a beautiful service. You said all the right words, your mama would beso proud of you. I know how hard it is to stand up and say them when your heart is crying inside.’
