I tried to imagine how Elizabeth was feeling. Knowing the part she played in Stephen’s death. But I hope she was thinking more about the part she played in his life. There was a hymn I didn’t know, and then the coffin slowly disappeared as some classical music played. I didn’t recognize it – nothing from an advert or anything, Stephen was very into his music. This was when Elizabeth started weeping. Bogdan’s arm was around her shoulders, and my arm was around her waist, but I could tell she felt neither of them.
I sneaked a peek, and Ron and Pauline were both in floods. Ibrahim was head down, eyes closed. Further back, I noticed that Marianne had gone.
We had agreed to have drinks and nibbles back at mine – no need to hire a hall and put Elizabeth on display. Stephen’s friends didn’t come back with us; they said their goodbyes at the crematorium. Marianne hadn’t, in fact, left: she was outside, crying on one of the benches. Wilfried went over to comfort her. Everyone has a story, don’t they? If you’d followed Marianne or Wilfried home, what might you have found?
I had a picture of Stephen on my dining-room table. He was smoking a cigar, clearly telling a joke. I lit some candles, and Bogdan had set up a chessboard. The pieces were in the position of the last game Stephen ever won. He tried to explain it to me, but I told him I was better off sticking to candles.
We had some English sparkling wine that Chris had brought with him. Patrice bought it, even after Dominic Holt had been murdered, ‘because it was 30 per cent off if you’d been on the tour’. She is a woman after my own heart.
The nibbles were mainly Aldi, but with a sprinkling of Waitrose for effect.
I put Classic FM on the radio, which worked a treat, except for the adverts.
It was important that we showed Elizabeth that we were all there for her. That she had a gang. Not just the Thursday Murder Club any more, but also the band of waifs and strays we seem to have picked up along the way. Bogdan, of course, and Donna. Chris and Patrice. Pauline now looking like a permanent fixture. Even Computer Bob came over to pay his respects. No Mervyn, even though I told him he’d be welcome. ‘Didn’t know the man,’ was his response.
Chris had an announcement to make, but you could tell he wasn’t sure about it. Briefly I thought he was about to propose, which I do think might have been a bit much in the circumstances, but instead he told us, in the strictest confidence, that Samantha Barnes had been murdered. He said it wasn’t a discussion for today, but he felt we would like to know sooner rather than later.
Elizabeth chose that moment to make her exit. She will not be investigating anything for a while. Bogdan walked her home, and didn’t come back for an hour or so.
We talked about Stephen, we talked a little about Samantha Barnes, but without much conviction, because without Elizabeth is there any point continuing? Donna spoke to the boys about Mervyn and Tatiana. They are having fun. Life continues, whatever you do. It’s a bulldozer like that.
Everybody left at about nine-ish, and I did the washing-up. And now there are long nights ahead for us all.
I think I will call Joanna. I know it’s quite late, but I don’t think we really keep the same hours. I once rang her at nine a.m. on a Saturday and she gave me a lecture. I had been up for three hours already. I hope she will pick up, I just want to hear about her day, just normal things. Perhaps talk about her dad for a while.
Alan knows I am sad. He is lying by my chair, his paws on my feet, making sure I come to no further harm.
Ron has his arm around Pauline.
He missed her, so he texted her. She missed him, but she didn’t text back. He missed her, so he texted her again, this time a joke about a horse playing cricket. She missed him, she laughed at the message, but she didn’t text back. He missed her, so he rang her even though he knew he shouldn’t. She missed him, but she didn’t pick up.
He missed her, so he texted her about the funeral. Told her how he felt, told her he loved her and missed her. And so she took a sick day from work, dressed in black, drove to Coopers Chase, knocked on his door, kissed him, told him he couldn’t wear a West Ham tie to Stephen’s funeral, then relented when he said he had no other ties. He told her how much he fancied her in black, she told him that was inappropriate, then she took his hand and hasn’t let go since.
‘Do you think anyone’s asleep?’ Ron asks.
‘No,’ says Pauline. ‘Elizabeth will be crying, Joyce will be baking, Ibrahim will be out walking, pretending to think about something else.’
‘You think they did the right thing? Stephen and Elizabeth?’
‘There is no right thing, Ronnie,’ says Pauline. ‘No right thing, no wrong thing. If it’s what they wanted. They’ve harmed no one but themselves, and you’re allowed to harm yourself.’
‘Like texting your ex when you shouldn’t?’ says Ron.
