Page 121 of For Love or Money
‘It’s not so bad. Turns out everyone’s really fond of Dad now he’s dead. They’re all going on about what a great guy he was.’
‘Even Uncle Pat?’
‘He’s the worst of all. Inconsolable!’
Stella smiled. She couldn’t remember a meeting between their father and Uncle Pat that didn’t end in a punch-up. They couldn’t stand each other. ‘I don’t suppose anyone’s mentioned me?’
Dan hesitated a moment. ‘No,’ he said then.
‘I saw the death notice.’ She’d looked it up online. She wasn’t surprised there was no mention of her, but it still hurt.
‘I wanted to add you. He was your father too.’
‘It’s fine. It’s how he would have wanted it,’ she said bitterly.
‘Yeah, I guess you’re right.’
‘I wish I could be there for you, though. I’m sorry you have to go through this alone.’
‘I’m not alone. I have Annie. Though she might decide to leave me when she sees our fucked-up family in full swing.’
‘Come on, it’s a funeral. They’ll have to behave themselves.’
Dan gave a humourless laugh. ‘Don’t be so sure.’
Stella wished she could reach through the phone and wrap her arms around her brother.
‘Well, I’d better get back to the ham sandwiches. It must be at least two minutes since my last one.’
‘Okay. Take care. I hope tomorrow isn’t too awful.’
When she hung up,Stella paced the room restlessly. She sat at the dressing table to do her make-up, but jumped up again, unable to sit still. She felt agitated and unsettled, and desperately in need of someone to talk to who would understand. She picked up her phone to call Peter, but for some reason the thought of speaking to him only irritated her and she couldn’t bring herself to dial his number.
He should be here, she thought, tossing the phone on the bed. She knew he’d care if she told him, and he’d come home if she wanted him to, but she resented having to prompt him. They were getting married. He was supposed to be there for her, and she shouldn’t have to plea for his attention ...
She sighed, flopping down on the stool in front of her dressing table to finish doing her make-up. She was being unreasonable. Peter wasn’t psychic. She couldn’t expect him to know what was going on if she didn’t tell him. She tried to put it out of her head as she finished getting ready and went downstairs to wait for Rafe in the living room.
But it was no use. Her mind was elsewhere, in her childhood home, with her mother and her brother, and her father in his coffin in the front room. She was consumed by a mounting sense that she needed to be there. Dan was right. He was her father too. She should be at the funeral tomorrow. She wanted to be with Dan; maybe even to see her mother ... She wouldn’t cause a scene. She could hang back, stay on the edge of things. But she had to go.
She looked at her watch. It was almost seven. She would have to find something to wear. She stood up to go to her bedroom, but then sat down again. First she’d need to figure out a way to get to Gorebally for ten tomorrow. She picked up her phone to map out the journey. The first train in the morning was at seven-thirty, and didn’t get into Galway until just after ten. It was about another hour by bus to Gorebally, so she would have to go tonight and stay over. She could arrange a taxi in the morning to drive her the rest of the way. Or maybe there was a bus ...
‘Stella? What’s wrong?’ She looked up to find Rafe frowning at her in concern as he strode into the room. He slid onto the sofa beside her and took her hands. She realised they were shaking.
‘I—’ She stood up. ‘I can’t do dinner, sorry,’ she said agitatedly. ‘I need to go to Galway.’
‘Tonight?’
She nodded. ‘There’s a funeral I have to go to in the morning.’
He glanced at her phone, tossed on the sofa. ‘Your friend’s father?’
She nodded; she’d forgotten she’d told him.
‘I thought you weren’t going to the funeral.’
‘I changed my mind. My friend called and ... he needs me there. I have to find a train.’ She picked up her phone.
‘No, I’ll drive you,’ Rafe said, standing.
