After the Funeral Read online

  He looked down at the tiled floor, refusing to meet her gaze. ‘Lisa’s pregnant,’ he said flatly.

  ‘Pregnant? How pregnant?’

  ‘Seven months.’

  ‘Seven months?’ A thought occurred to Julia, though even as she voiced it she guessed she was clutching at straws. ‘You’re sure the baby’s yours?’

  ‘Yes. Of course it is.’

  ‘Of course? You told me that you hadn’t slept with her when we separated!’ Her hands were trembling again. She set her mug down on the counter.

  ‘No. I know. I shouldn’t have done. Sorry.’

  ‘Sorry? You think that makes it all right, do you?’

  ‘No, but…’

  ‘But nothing! And you told me you didn’t want children!’

  ‘Well, you didn’t, did you? We talked about it when we got together.’

  ‘Five years ago! And you made it absolutely clear that you never wanted any.’ Julia covered her eyes with her hands.

  ‘You seemed fine with it,’ muttered Greg.

  There was a long pause. Finally Julia broke it. ‘You never asked again, did you?’

  ‘No. Nor did you.’

  ‘But you were so certain!’ Julia shouted. ‘You were always saying how much you valued our freedom because we weren’t tied down with kids. You even said you didn’t understand why Clare was so bothered about it all! And remember, I was nearly forty-four when we met. It wasn’t like I had a lot of time to play with, was it?’

  Greg didn’t respond, taking a large gulp of his coffee. Julia tried to speak more calmly. ‘So when did you change your mind?’

  ‘I couldn’t say,’ he muttered. ‘It had crossed my mind the last couple of years, but by then…’

  ‘By then it was probably too late for me?’

  Greg glanced at her quickly, then away again.

  ‘So…’ Julia paused, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer to her next question, but a masochistic impulse drove her on. ‘So did Lisa get pregnant to make sure you left me for her, that you did the honourable thing?’

  Another moment of silence passed before he replied. ‘I’m doing “the honourable thing” as you say, because I love her.’

  ‘But I thought…’ Her voice trailed off in a strangled sob. ‘I thought you loved me.’

  ‘I thought I did.’ Greg spoke slowly, as though he were trying to work out his feelings as he went along. ‘But with Lisa it’s different.’

  ‘It always is, isn’t it? Just as I was “different” to Carol. Who’s going to be “different” to Lisa, Greg? I should have listened to my mother, shouldn’t I, at the beginning, when she warned me that you might leave me just like you left your wife?’

  ‘Oh, your sainted mother! Don’t tell me all over again what a perfect relationship she and your father had until his tragic early death!’

  Julia stared at him. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the block of knives by the electric hob. For a moment she understood why Agatha Christie had believed that everyone was capable of murder. She took a deep breath.

  ‘My father’s early death was tragic,’ she said. ‘And how dare you speak of my mother like that? That’s the only reservation she ever voiced about you. She was very upset when you left, she’d grown fond of you.’

  ‘You make me sound like a favourite pet!’

  ‘That’s not what I meant. It’s just…’ She gulped, before voicing for the first time the thoughts that had troubled her since she researched her mother’s medical condition. ‘I’ve worried that the upset might have been such a shock that it contributed to her heart failure in the end.’

  Greg gave an incredulous laugh. ‘Don’t tell me that you’re trying to lay your mother’s death at my door as well! She was sick, Julia, sick and old.’

  ‘No, I’m not blaming you. It’s just… I miss her so much.’ She pushed a strand of hair behind her right ear. ‘I miss you too,’ she whispered, unable to stop herself.

  ‘For God’s sake…’ He turned his back on her and went out to the hall. She heard the carrier bags crackle as he gathered them up, the squeak of the front door opening.

  Julia gripped the kitchen sink, resisting the impulse to follow him. What more was there to say? His dispassionate words about her mother’s death had shocked her to the core. Even as she wondered how it could be that the man she had loved so much could have become this stranger, she recognised the cliché.

  Staring across the kitchen towards the empty doorway, her eyes fell on the envelope which had arrived from the bank. She noticed, with a strange detachment, that her hands were still shaking as she picked it up from the counter and opened it.

  She had to read the letter twice before it made any sense. Then she walked slowly out to the hall.

  Greg emerged from the dining-room carrying the last two boxes. His eyes travelled from Julia’s face to the letter in her hand. His face drained of colour.

  Julia’s voice seemed to come from far away. ‘So when exactly were you planning to tell me about this?’ She tapped the letter.

  He shrugged his broad shoulders, but she had registered the twitch of his left eye which always signified tension. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Don’t give me that!’ Julia yelled. ‘No wonder you wanted to intercept the mail! Six months arrears from when you were living here and supposed to be paying the mortgage! They’re threatening to repossess!’

  Again he shrugged. ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered.

  ‘Sorry!’ stormed Julia. ‘Sorry!’ She advanced across the hall, waving the letter in front of his face. ‘It wasn’t enough for you to cheat on me with that woman, was it? You had to cheat me financially as well!’

  ‘It wasn’t like that.’ He set the boxes down between them. ‘You know things got a bit tight for me when the school didn’t renew my contract for the summer term. I only had a few hours’ tutoring a week. I wasn’t making enough, missed a couple of mortgage payments.’

  ‘A couple! It says six months here! And I don’t understand why the bank hasn’t written before now.’

  He looked down at the boxes. ‘I’ve been trying to hold them off,’ he said quietly. ‘I told them I planned to pay off the arrears and asked them not to take proceedings. My time ran out last week. I’ve not managed to get the money together. I could give you a couple of hundred. That’s all. They might delay, if you explain you’ll have some money coming from your mother.’

  ‘Not within twenty-eight days!’ shouted Julia. ‘And a couple of hundred doesn’t exactly make a big impression on three thousand, does it?’

  Greg bit his lip. ‘Like I say, I’m sorry. But I can’t offer anything else, not with the baby coming.’

  ‘So let me get this right.’ She spat the words. ‘You get a new girlfriend, a new home, a baby, and leave me not only alone but also homeless?’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so bloody melodramatic! This place will sell tomorrow, no problem. You know houses near the cathedral are always snapped up. You’ll soon find somewhere else. Look on it as a fresh start.’ He bent to pick up the boxes. ‘I’ve got to go.’

  ‘And that’s it? We spend five years together and you tell me to make a fresh start whilst you waltz off to play happy families with another woman?’

  Greg sighed. ‘I don’t have time for this. It’s over, Julia. People break up all the time. You’ll get over it.’ He turned his back and stepped towards the front door, the boxes balanced precariously in his arms.

  For a moment Julia stood rooted to the spot. Then, overtaken by an anger she had never known, she lunged at him, pushing him over the threshold. He stumbled but didn’t fall, dropping the top box which collapsed where it landed. CDs and books cascaded along the icy path. The glass cover of a photograph shattered, scattering shards of glass in all directions.

  She felt a moment’s compunction. She knew Greg had treasured the picture of himself as a young boy with his parents who had died in a car crash ten years ago. But when he spun furiously round on h
er, she said sweetly, ‘And glass breaks all the time. You’ll fix it soon enough.’ She stepped back into the hall, slamming the door and turning the key in the lock.

  Back in the kitchen she set about washing the cafetière. It was only when her trembling hands failed to reassemble the filter that the tears came and she sank to the floor in a shuddering heap.

  –  CHAPTER 6  –

  Julia didn’t know how long she lay on the kitchen tiles. The worst of the storm of weeping over, she pulled herself to a sitting position, leaning back against the washing machine. Her body shook with a few final sobs. She tried to keep her mind blank, shutting out the thoughts which crowded in. She didn’t want to replay the scene with Greg, to confront the fact that their relationship lay irrevocably in the past. She had tried to reason away her hope of a reconciliation before his visit. But it had been there all the same, helping her through the lonely months without him and the recent grief-stricken weeks since her mother’s death. Nothing but a foolish fantasy. When she faced reality, she knew she would see she had been in denial about the end of the relationship. How many times had she discussed how denial was a classic symptom of grief with her clients? She had never known its delusive power for herself as forcibly as now.

  So she knelt there, numb, staring unseeingly towards the doorway to the hall. She felt raw and empty, as if the tears had scraped away her insides. The cold tap was dripping, but she made no effort to stand and turn it off. There was an odd sense of comfort in the rhythmic drip, drip, drip. It was like a heartbeat, reminding her of life continuing even in the midst of her devastation. Only when the old-fashioned corded phone in the hall began to ring did she drag herself up, placing her weight on her right leg because her left leg had frozen beneath her.

  By the time she had limped out to the hall, the answerphone was clicking in. She picked up the receiver and waited for her recorded greeting to end before speaking. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi Julia! I’m so pleased I caught you. I thought you might be out on a Saturday morning. But I decided I’d try anyway, just in case. It’s Linda, by the way.’

  ‘Yes. Hello.’ Julia closed her eyes, wishing she hadn’t answered the phone. Linda didn’t need to identify herself. She would recognise that breathless nasal tone anywhere.

  ‘How are you? Are you getting on all right?’ Characteristically, the other woman rushed on without waiting for a reply. ‘Listen, I’m so sorry that we parted awkwardly at Giuseppe’s the other night. These headaches seem to come from nowhere. I think that one might have been triggered with the excitement of the exhibition and seeing you again. Such a nuisance! I hope it didn’t spoil your evening. We were having such a lovely time, weren’t we, getting to know one another better?’

  Julia twisted the cream phone cord in her hand without replying.

  After a moment Linda resumed, ‘Anyway, I wondered if we could arrange to meet again, maybe next Saturday? What about lunch, or coffee?’

  ‘I’ll check the calendar,’ Julia said. ‘I won’t be a moment.’ She retraced her steps to the kitchen. She had no intention of seeing Linda again any time soon, if at all. But nor did she want to hurt the older woman’s feelings by an outright rejection. She was relieved to see that Aunt Ada’s eightieth meal was pencilled in for the following Saturday. She wasn’t looking forward to it, but at least it gave her a valid reason to refuse the invitation.

  Back on the phone, she apologised with as much false sincerity as she could muster. ‘I’m sorry, Linda. I’ve got something on next Saturday.’

  ‘Oh.’ Linda’s disappointment was palpable as she drew out the single syllable. ‘What a pity. But it’s good you’re getting out, isn’t it? Better than staying at home after everything you’ve been through. I hope you’re going somewhere nice?’

  Julia cringed. Linda’s concern for her wellbeing and the frequent references to her recent difficulties struck her as over-familiar. And she didn’t appreciate the curiosity about her social life. But as Linda waited for a reply, Julia reminded herself that at least she had managed to postpone this meeting. Relief made her more voluble than usual.

  ‘Actually, it’s my aunt Ada’s eightieth. Back at The Wingate where we had Mum’s reception. I could do without it, to be honest, but family duty, you know.’

  She regretted the final sentence as soon as the words were out of her mouth. There was a pause before Linda spoke again, a strange edge to her tone. ‘Family duty. Emily mentioned how your aunt Ada set a great deal of store by family duty. Like her mother, she said.’

  ‘Oh?’ Again Julia found herself taken aback by the extent of the conversations between Linda and her mother. That niggling question, ‘Why did you never tell me about Linda?’ passed through her mind again as she looked up at the wedding photograph of her parents hanging above the walnut bookcase. Leonard stood handsome and upright in his naval uniform, his arm around Emily who stared back at the camera, stiff in her satin wedding gown and lace veil. Leonard was grinning broadly and Emily’s lips were parted in a shy smile. She had never enjoyed being the centre of attention.

  ‘Yes,’ Linda went on. ‘Emily said her mother and sister were very concerned with respectability and keeping up appearances.’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose they were. Not that I remember Grandma very well.’ Julia was interested that her mother had differentiated herself from her own mother and sister in this way. ‘Mother was certainly more relaxed than Aunt Ada. My father had very high standards. He was always concerned about duty, commitment, doing the right thing. He was a captain in the Navy, you know.’

  ‘Yes. I did know. Emily told me.’

  There was an interval, oppressive to Julia as it lengthened. After the scene with Greg, this conversation was something she could do without. She found herself babbling in her turn, drawing the call to an end. ‘Anyway, Linda, I’m sorry about next Saturday. Maybe some other time, when things have settled down. I’d better go. I’m going over to Mother’s with James this afternoon to start clearing the house.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll be in touch again soon. Bye!’ Linda rang off with unexpected alacrity, and Julia heaved a sigh of relief. A lucky escape, she told herself as she headed back towards the kitchen. If Linda had been put off by her unwillingness to make alternative arrangements, that could only be a good thing. Life was complicated enough without the woman’s rather needy presence and her allusions to a family secret.

  The confrontation with Greg had dulled her appetite but she knew she should eat something before going over to Emily’s cottage. It was already midday and she had missed breakfast. She would be glad to see James. Even though their task was a dismal one, her half-brother’s company always cheered her. She wanted to talk over the situation about her house with him, gain an outside perspective.

  She was taking the final mouthful of poached eggs on wholegrain toast when the phone rang again. This time she waited for the caller to speak into the answerphone, not wanting to risk another conversation with Linda. But when she heard her sister-in-law Clare’s greeting, she picked up.

  ‘Hi, Clare. Sorry, just finishing eating.’

  ‘Hi. James asked me to call. He’s had to go into the department. Some student having a crisis. He asked me to let you know he won’t be able to make it this afternoon.’

  ‘Oh,’ Julia felt a stab of disappointment. She told herself not to be selfish. ‘I hope it’s nothing too serious?’

  Clare didn’t reply immediately. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘He went out quickly after getting a call without going into any details.’ She paused. ‘Anyway, we’ll see you at Aunt Ada’s lunch next week, won’t we?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Bye then,’ Clare hung up, leaving Julia listening to the dialling tone.

  She replaced the receiver, frowning. Clare would usually have had a chat, but she seemed in a rush to end the call. Perhaps she’d felt awkward about leaving Julia to begin the task of sorting through Emily’s personal effects on her own. Not that she had offe
red to help in place of James, Julia noted. She could put off the unpleasant duty, wait until James was free, but they had agreed they needed to make a start before getting a valuation and putting the house on the market. And it would be good for her to have something to occupy her on a cold January afternoon. If she stayed at home, she would only end up brooding.

  Forty minutes later she pulled up in the lane outside her mother’s cottage. She shivered as she stepped out of the car. The temperature had dropped even further during the twelve mile drive. The sky was the same pewter of the morning. She would need to keep an eye out for snow: the minor road which wound along the limestone ridge back to the city would soon become treacherous.

  She paused for a moment with her gloved hand on the gate, looking at the modest house where her mother had spent the final seven years of her life. She had moved here following the death of her second husband, Nicholas, James’s father. Julia still half-expected Emily to be looking for her from the window, moving to open the door as soon as she arrived. Even in her last months she had insisted on greeting her visitors at the door. By then she had needed the aid of a frame and Julia had assured her she could let herself in, but Emily had refused. Julia still found it difficult to believe that she would never again see that gentle smile light up the faded blue eyes. Her mother’s warm welcome was one of the things she missed most. She shivered and stepped carefully down the path, still icy from the overnight frost.

  She had just taken the key from her pocket when she heard knocking. She jumped, dropping the key to the stone doorstep, transported back to the waking nightmare of her mother banging for release from her coffin. Then the porch door of the neighbouring terraced cottage opened.