Page 124 of For Love or Money
‘I’d like to go to bed,’ she said, her voice coming out croaky. She cleared her throat. ‘I mean, I’m really tired.’ She had been exhausted from the strain of the day, her nerves stretched taut. But now she was suddenly invigorated, a different kind of nerves filling her with a weird energy.
‘Yeah,’ Rafe said, releasing her hand. ‘Early start in the morning.’
41
Stella was glad her father had at least had the good grace to die in the summer, and during a spell of good weather, so she had an excuse to wear dark glasses at the funeral. She pulled them on as she sat in the car with Rafe, watching as mourners gathered outside the church. Her breath caught in her throat as the hearse arrived, and she saw her mother and Dan emerging from the funeral car. She should have been in that car with them. It felt so weird to be sitting here outside it all, watching from a distance, like she was a spectator to her own life.
‘Well, here goes,’ she said as Dan and her uncles shouldered the coffin, and the other mourners followed them inside.
Rafe gave her hand a quick squeeze. ‘I’ll be waiting here,’ he said.
Her legs were shaky as she got out of the car. She was so nervous, she felt she might throw up. She pulled her wide-brimmed hat down, shading her eyes, hanging back as she joined the last of the stragglers making their way inside.
It was a big funeral – not so much, Stella suspected, because her father had been such a beloved local figure, but because it was the only show in a town where there was nothing to do. They spoke about a person she didn’t recognise – a generous big-hearted man, a pillar of the community who was mourned by his wife Nora and son Dan. She had been obliterated from the ceremony as thoroughly as she had been from his life – unlike his drinking buddies, whose great loss was acknowledged repeatedly.
She stayed at the back of the church, hidden among the throng, and kept her head down as everyone exited the church. She’d texted Dan this morning to tell him she’d be here, and she could see him looking out for her, scanning the pews as he and her uncles carried the coffin down the aisle. He threw her a brief, furtive look of sympathy when he saw her. She shivered as the coffin passed, trying to feel something other than cold indifference. That was her father. But she couldn’t summon any emotion.
She waited until everyone had filed past, following the coffin outside into the churchyard. She didn’t even allow herself to look at their faces in case someone would recognise her. When the church was empty, she slipped out a side door and stood at the edge of the crowd gathered in the churchyard. Out of the corner of her eye she located her mother and Dan standing side by side, surrounded by friends and neighbours offering their condolences. No one seemed to notice her, apart from the odd curious glance.
Her heart pounded as she waited for her mother to spot her. Surely she would. She had dressed carefully for the funeral, and she realised now she had worn the chic black vintage Chanel suit with her mother in mind. She was a traditional woman, and she’d appreciate the mark of respect. But she also loved clothes, and Stella remembered her poring over fashion magazines when she was a child, gazing longingly at clothes she couldn’t afford and would never have an occasion to wear. She’d always admired women who dressed stylishly, and Stella was sure she’d love her outfit.
She tried to get up the nerve to approach her. But the longer she stood there on the sidelines, watching her mother surrounded by friends and neighbours, the more she felt like an unwelcome intruder. Maybe she should just slip away quietly now, and her mother wouldn’t even have to know she’d been here. Or should she stick around and wait until later, after the graveyard to talk to her, when the crowd would have thinned out, and they could meet without the whole town watching? As she pondered this, a light breeze lifted her hat, and she took it off, shaking out her hair.
‘You!’ Suddenly there was a shout from across the churchyard, and Stella turned to see her Uncle Pat looking right at her, pointing a finger accusingly. ‘It’s you, isn’t it?’
Stella started as he began shouldering his way through the crowd towards her.
‘You’ve got a feckin’ nerve showing up here!’ he roared. ‘After what you put your poor father through.’
Faces turned towards her to see what the fuss was about, and Stella suddenly found herself the focus of attention. She turned to Dan, who stared back at her wide-eyed with alarm. He jerked his head in the direction of the gate, telling her to run, but she couldn’t move. She felt rooted to the spot as Uncle Pat barrelled towards her.
Then her mother whipped around and saw her, and Stella felt the look in her eyes like a punch. Initial shock and disbelief was followed by horror and ... hatred.
‘Could you not have had the decency to stay away?’ she said, her eyes narrowed as she advanced slowly towards Stella. ‘Haven’t you done enough? Isn’t it your fault your father’s in an early grave. You broke his heart—’
Stella didn’t wait to hear any more. Suddenly galvanised into action, she turned on her heel and ran as her mother and uncles descended on her from all sides. Her heels caught in the gravel, and she slowed briefly to take them off, hopping on one foot at a time. Then she raced down the long driveway of the church, three of her uncles chasing after her, shouting.
‘Come back here, ya bowsie!’ Pat panted as he chased her.
‘Wait till I get my hands on you!’
‘Look at what you’ve done to your poor mother!’
Stella shot out the gate, tearful with gratitude at the sight of Rafe waiting patiently in his car. She tore open the door and flung herself inside.
‘Drive, drive!’ she hissed.
Rafe shot her a startled look, but quickly threw down the book he’d been reading and started the car. They sped away just as her uncles came barrelling through the church gates, looking around for her and shaking their fists.
‘Jesus, who were those nutters?’ Rafe asked.
Stella glanced behind her. The three of them were all bent double at the gates of the church, hands on knees as they tried to catch their breath.
‘My uncles,’ she said, adrenaline pooling in her body as she laid her head back against the headrest. ‘Lucky for me they’re not very fit.’
‘So much for not creating a fuss.’ Rafe threw her a worried look. ‘So ... I guess you’re not going to the graveyard, then?’
Stella gave a hoot of laughter, but her eyes welled up with tears. ‘No,’ she said. ‘And I think I can skip the tea and sandwiches at the pub too.’
