Page 35 of A Brambleberry Manor Christmas
How could I let Tavie attend her dad’s funeral, ifHarvey’s lover was going to come to the crematorium and possibly sit right nextto her?
I was terrified at the thought of telling her she couldn’tgo. I knew she’d be furious. But I knew it had to be that way. But I decided wecould have a private memorial service, especially for Tavie, the week after thefuneral. Just me and her, and Harvey’s friends. That way, we wouldn’t run therisk of any heart-breaking confrontations.
But Tavie wouldn’t hear of it. She was going to that funeraland no-one – especially not me – was going to stop her. She was incandescentwith rage, hurling a book at the wall and shrieking, ‘He’s my dad! I need to bethere! And you can’t stop me going!’
I wavered then, wondering if I should change my mind.
She was right – I couldn’t stop her. And that’s when Idecided to take Vivian, her mum, into my confidence about the whole thing. Andto give her credit, she was marvellous. I told her all about number forty-fiveHayden Park Avenue, and the other women, whose texts I’d since discovered onhis phone, and she agreed that Tavie should be kept away from the funeral.(Apparently, Harvey was an old hand at the cheating business, and had hadnumerous affairs during his six-year marriage to Vivian.)
The upshot was that Vivian came round and whisked Tavie awayfor the week, which left me to sort out the funeral arrangements with nodistractions, knowing that Tavie was being taken care of by her own mum andhopefully benefiting from spending quality time with her little brother andsister.
We held the memorial service the following week, on whatwould have been Harvey’s thirty-seventh birthday.
*****
I thought I’d forgotten the face of the blonde woman inthe dressing-gown, who called an ambulance for Harvey.
And I was glad. Because I just wanted to put it all behindme.
But then I walked into Marjery’s dining room to deliverdessert and the blonde woman, Constance, turned my way.
I thought I’d never have to see Harvey’s lover again.
Apparently I was wrong…
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I wake next morning feeling as though I’ve beeninvolved in a freak runaway bulldozer accident. Every muscle in my body achesand there’s an insistent pulse in my right temple that feels like an extra,doom-laden heartbeat.
A moment later things get substantially worse, when theevents of the night before come crashing in.
I smashed Marjery’s antique serving platter, almost faintingin front of a room full of her guests. And today, I have to cook dinner andserve it to the woman who was my main rival…the woman whose bed Harvey was in justbefore he died.
Constance Bailey.
With a groan, I turn over in bed and pull the covers rightover my head. I’m not going to work today. I’ll stay here instead. I’ll phoneMarjery and explain…
No, I can’t do that! Because if I do, that will mean thewhole story of Harvey’s deception will be out there, and what if Tavie learnsabout it from someone else…some stranger?
I couldn’t bear that.
She misses her dad desperately. I can’t imagine what findingout the truth about him would do to her. Tavie has never been shy aboutexpressing her opinions, and I’ve heard her declare that people who cheat arethe worst sort of scumbags. What if she were to find out that her lovely dadfell squarely into that category?
Pushing back the covers, I sit up. Apart from anything else,I need that job. If I were to give up now on the best opportunity I’ve had togrow my business, there’s a chance I could be bringing Tavie even moreheartache – if we have to sell her dad’s house.
Constance, or no Constance, I need to get in that shower andcarry on…
The one bright spot at the moment is that Tavie seemshappier. I hear her down in the kitchen and a second later, there’s a muffledknock on the door. I’m so surprised, at first I think the door, that’s slightlyajar, must have creaked of its own accord. But then Tavie is there, callingthrough, ‘I’ve made you some tea.’
‘Oh. Come in.’ I grab my dressing gown, and she comes in,hands me a mug and sits on the side of the bed, her eyes shining.
‘I can’t believe I’ll soon be on a beach, making sand-piesand playing in the sea with my brother and sister. It’s going to be soamazing.’
I nod and smile, drinking in her happiness. I take a sip ofthe over-full mug and almost choke on the sugary sweetness, just managing todisguise my reaction as a cough.
‘Is the tea okay?’ she asks. ‘I put an extra sugar in forluck.’
‘It’s lovely.’Apart from the fact that I haven’t takensugar in my tea for years!
