Page 14

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It was the most peaceful walk Julia had ever had since she had adopted Jake. The Guide Dog School dropout had been the terror of Berrywick and surrounds. Chasing geese, stealing ice creams and biscuits from small children, threatening to topple the elderly. Rolling in lord knew what.

He’d calmed down in the three years she’d had him, that was for sure, but he was still a ball of energy. Unpredictable energy. On a walk like this, he’d usually be tearing about the place.

But look at him now, trotting calmly alongside Jono, with Leo on his other side, their tails wagging in tandem, like a cheerful metronome. The dogs weren’t even on leads, but they stayed on the path, on Jono’s left, keeping pace with his brisk walk. Jono stopped at the junction between the path and the cross path. He made a small hand gesture, and the dogs stopped too. They looked at him, calm but alert, awaiting instruction.

‘It’s like he can control them with his mind,’ Julia whispered.

Sean shook his head in wonder. ‘It’s amazing. But it’s like the dogs have some weird effect on him too. They calm him.’

From her position some feet behind Jono and the dogs, Julia saw another dog approaching. It was a very large dog in a harness, the lead held lightly in the hand of a young woman wearing a bright yellow polo neck under baggy denim dungarees. There was something odd about the animal’s gait. Julia wondered if it was some novel designer breed. A Saluki-Great Dane cross, or something.

As the girl and the dog drew level with Jono, Sean and Julia caught up with them.

‘It’s a goat!’ said Sean, rather unnecessarily, because they could all see it quite clearly now, a tan and white goat, with short, stubby horns and little pointed hoofs. It looked at their group nervously, not sure of the dogs. The animal’s pupils were shaped like slits, which gave its rather sweet, dim face an evil air, up close.

‘Sit and stay,’ Jono instructed the dogs in a calm tone. They obeyed immediately.

‘The dogs are all right,’ Jono said, as the girl hesitated to pass them. ‘Nice goat.’

‘Thank you. Nice dogs.’

‘Thank you.’ Jono smiled, proudly.

‘They are very well-behaved. You’ve obviously trained them well.’

‘I like dogs,’ he said, looking down at his charges, and then up, at her face. ‘Do you like goats?’

She smiled, revealing pretty, slightly skewed teeth. ‘I grew up with them. My parents keep goats, and make cheese from the milk. This one’s mum died and I fed her with a bottle. To cut a long story short, she’s a dog now.’

Jono laughed. It was a sound, Julia realised, that she hadn’t heard before. His face lit up, his frown softened and disappeared. The girl laughed too.

‘At play,’ Jono said, flicking his hand in the direction of the field. The dogs bolted, gambolling and chasing each other across the grass to a drift of early-autumn leaves under the oaks. Jake went in like a child dive-bombing into a swimming pool. Leo tore in after him. They wrestled and played, growling and snapping at each other in good humour.

‘Ah, look how happy they are. Makes you happy to see it. I’m Laine, by the way.’ As the girl spoke, she pulled at her thick dark plait, twirling the end of it, then flicked it back over her shoulder.

‘Jono.’

Julia realised that the older couple should probably not be standing there watching the young ones like two dim-witted chaperones. She tugged Sean’s arm gently to move him on, and walked off in the direction the dogs had taken.

‘Well, that’s a new one,’ Sean said.

‘What, Jono flirting?’

‘No, a goat on a…Wait, what do you mean, he was flirting ? Was he?’

‘Er, yes, Sean. And she was flirting with him.’

‘Goodness, I had no idea. Of course, you are a trained professional. An expert in interpersonal relations. That’s why you can pick up the subtle clues that regular people would miss.’

‘I have eyeballs in my head. It was pretty obvious.’

‘It was? How could you tell?’

‘Smiling, laughing, hair-tossing, exchange of personal information, compliments…For a start.’

Sean smiled, and made an exaggerated gesture with his head which would pass as a hair-toss if his hair wasn’t thinning and cut short. ‘I’m Dr Sean O’Connor, hahaha , and if you’ll permit me to say so, you are a most attractive woman…For a start.’

‘Thank heavens you’re not on the market, with that flirting game,’ Julia laughed and put her arm through his, pulling him close.

‘Thank heavens,’ he said, fervently, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

The dogs ran to them, then back to Jono and Laine and the goat, and then back to the leaves, before finally falling into step with Julia and Sean.

‘They’ll be good and tired this afternoon, while we’re at the funeral,’ said Sean.

Nothing like the word ‘funeral’ to leach the good cheer from a walk, and the last warmth from the wan autumn sky. Julia looked at her watch. ‘Best we get home. The funeral is at three and we have to have lunch and get changed.’

Sean looked back at Jono and Laine, who showed no sign of moving. Laine was gesturing to the goat and talking, Jono smiling and nodding. He was a good-looking young man, and his face lit up beautifully when he smiled.

‘He’ll come back when he’s ready. Come on.’

Half of Berrywick was at Graham’s funeral, including, unsurprisingly, all of the South Cotswolds Players, and all the members of the book club, who seemed to have gravitated towards each other at the back of the mourners gathered at the grave after the service. Julia and Sean had joined them. Julia gave Tabitha a quick hug and whispered a hello to Dylan, then nodded to Hector and Troilus and the others. She saw Hayley and Walter across the way, Hayley’s quick eyes darting around the crowd, taking it all in. Working, Julia thought, wondering what she was looking for, specifically. Probably the same as Julia – someone who could have accessed the props cupboard with nobody noticing? The problem was that backstage is a busy place. It’s hard to narrow down the possibilities without something more. There was no doubt that Hayley was thinking the same.

Looking between the rows of heads, Julia saw Graham’s family at the graveside. Jane looked dazed, as if she might have taken something to take the edge off. Hannah was next to her, holding her hand.

‘Good to see Hannah has so much support,’ said Tabitha, quietly, nodding towards half a dozen young women roughly Hannah’s age, standing behind her, occasionally patting her on the shoulder, or offering a tissue or a bottle of water.

‘They are her old school friends,’ said Flo, who had slipped in next to Julia. ‘I recognise some of them. They were the year above my Fiona at school. Nice that they’ve all come out to be with Hannah, poor lamb. Losing her father like that, and the baby so little, still.’

The baby looked back at them over Hannah’s husband’s shoulder, his round head bobbing on the little neck, his wide eyes a clear, untroubled blue. He would never know his grandfather. But he didn’t know that, of course.

The priest invited Graham’s friend and the district manager of the supermarket where Graham had been manager to say a few words, which he did in a low, rumbling voice, like rocks tumbling down a hill. He had a poetic turn of phrase. ‘He was as honest as the day is long,’ said the man, who had been introduced as Bill. ‘He always had a kind word for anyone he met…Our customers and staff will tell you that he was always ready to give a person a chance, or a hand up…Especially those starting out in life.’

Julia had hardly known Graham, but she was quite moved to hear about his many good qualities. There was some nodding amongst the congregation, and one of the young women in front started to cry quietly, stifling little sniffs and sighs.

‘He was a generous man,’ Bill continued.

‘True,’ Flo whispered to Julia. ‘He was known as a good tipper at the Buttered Scone.’

‘Graham loved his family fiercely. Jane, Hannah, we know that you were the treasures of his heart.’

Jane’s face was a mask. Anti-anxiety meds, was Julia’s guess. Julia had always admired Jane’s lively manner and elegant style. She wore her hair steely grey, in a short and stylish cut. She was always beautifully dressed, and quick with a wry comment. Today, grey-faced and dressed in black, she looked about ten years older than the woman she’d been at book club three weeks ago.She’d apparently asked for the funeral to be held as soon as possible, because she couldn’t bear the idea of Graham sitting around in a morgue, and the police had released the body as there was no debate as to the manner of Graham’s death.

Hannah looked like a woman who’d just walked out of a car wreck. She was motionless, but for a tear trailing down her cheek.

On the other side of the grave, towards the back of the crowd, a girl was crying as if her heart would break. Her shoulders were shaking, causing her hair to ripple prettily in the weak sunlight. When the girl turned, showing a glimpse of her face, she was familiar. Julia had seen her before, recently. That red hair was hard to forget.

‘He loved the theatre, and although he died in a tragic accident, there is comfort in knowing he died on the stage, doing what he loved.’

Julia wouldn’t have gone there, herself. But then, she’d seen the effects of the tragic accident up close, the big raw rip of a bullet into his chest. She tried to put the image out of her mind. Graham was at peace now, tucked into his wooden coffin, alongside the grave that would be his home for all eternity.

The priest had taken over, now. As the pallbearers lowered the coffin into the grave, a cloud moved in front of the sun, and a breeze came up. A few dead leaves skittered and rustled across the graveyard. The air was suddenly cool, and the mourners drew their coats closer against the chill. Julia pulled the collar of her jacket up to protect her neck from the breeze, and wished she’d brought a scarf. Sean put his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into his warmth.

The priest committed Graham Powell to the earth, with words that Julia always found comforting even if she didn’t entirely believe them: ‘In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our brother Graham and we commit his body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless him and keep him, the Lord make his face to shine upon him and be gracious unto him, the Lord lift up his countenance upon him and give him peace.’

The official ceremony over, the mourners drifted over to the church hall, where tea had been set up. Making a detour past the bathroom, Julia heard sniffing and nose blowing coming from one of the stalls. As she washed her hands in preparation for a scone, the door opened and the weeping redhead emerged. A length of thin loo paper trailed from her hand. The girl crunched it up and dampened it, and went to work on the black streaks and smudges on her face. The paper disintegrated into damp little worms and torn-off bits. Her face wasn’t noticeably cleaner.

‘Here you are, dear.’ Julia handed her a small pack of tissues from her bag. Two-ply, quality stuff, better suited to the ravages of grief.

‘Thank you,’ the girl gulped, accepting the tissues.

Julia rummaged in her bag and pulled out half a roll of humbugs, which she always carried for emergencies.

‘Thank you,’ the girl said again, taking them. She ejected one with her thumb and popped it into her mouth, sucking hard, releasing the sweet minty smell.

‘A bit of sugar always helps, at least superficially. I’m Julia.’

‘I’m Bethany. ’

‘That’s a pretty name.’

‘Graham used to say that, too.’ The girl looked as if she would fall back into sobs.

‘I’m sorry, Bethany. It’s very hard, loss. Did you know him well? Are you a friend of Hannah’s?’

‘Yes, I knew him well.’ Her eyes welled with tears. She breathed in and out deeply to calm herself. The tears retreated. The humbug clicked against her teeth. ‘Hannah and I were at school together, actually, but I was the year above. We weren’t close. And then I was away for a few years, working in London. When I came back six months ago, Graham gave me a job at the shop.’

That’s where Julia had seen her. She’d been outside the theatre one day, after rehearsal, waiting for Graham. She must have had a message or a delivery from work.

‘Ah, I’m sorry for your loss, Bethany,’ said Julia again. It always felt that all her training and years of experience were useless in the face of grief, which reduced us all to the simplest of phrases: I’m sorry. It’s so hard. It gets better.

Bethany was crying again. Her tears were running clear now. Most of the mascara had already been washed away.

‘I can see you were very attached to him. He must have been a good boss,’ said Julia.

‘A good boss? Oh, yes. Well, yes, he was, of course, people liked him. The staff. But…he…we…I don’t know what I’ll do now,’ the young woman said sadly. ‘I don’t know what I’ll do without him.’

She folded a fresh tissue into a stiff-edged triangle and swiped one last time beneath each eye, drawing the tears and what was left of the melted mascara from beneath the lashes, towards the outer edges of the eye. She looked at her face in the mirror and sighed, seemed to accept that was the best she could do, and tossed the tissue away in the bin.

‘Thanks for the tissues, and the sweets,’ she said.

‘You’re welcome. You take good care of yourself, Bethany. ’

‘I will. I think I just need to go home and have a sleep.’

‘You do that. A sleep makes everything better.’

Bethany looked sceptical, as if she didn’t believe it for a minute, but thanked Julia again and went on her way.

Julia was pretty peckish. She and Sean had got back from the walk with just enough time to change and eat a piece of toast before they left for the funeral. She took a plate and joined the queue at the eats table. She surveyed the funeral foods up ahead – little sandwiches, sausage rolls, cream scones, chocolate cake – weighing up the options. A whispered conversation amongst the people ahead of her entered her consciousness when she heard the word ‘Bethany’. An odd coincidence, since she’d just met her. She leaned in a little, ears pricked.

‘Bit of a cheek after everything,’ muttered the young woman in front of Julia, shaking her head and setting the shiny blonde hair undulating.

‘Selfish!’ The response came as a quiet hiss of outrage.

‘She always did love a drama…’

‘It’s just not on.’

The whisperers stopped, the women looking furtively about. One of them caught Julia’s eye, and knew she’d heard them.

‘The sausage rolls look good,’ said the blonde at normal volume.

‘Don’t they just?’ her friend agreed heartily. ‘And I do love a sausage roll.’

‘Oh, me too.’

They moved off with their plates, which each held precisely one sausage roll and a carrot stick. Julia helped herself to a sandwich, a scone, a sausage roll and a few carrots, and was pleased not to be a young woman watching her figure. She moved off to the side to wait for Sean. She wondered what to make of the conversation she’d just overheard. What had Bethany done to outrage the two young women so? Julia knew all too well how a small incident at work could get blown out of proportion. It sounded as if something like that must have happened.

Hector came and stood next to her, piled plate in hand. He stared contemplatively at the funeral crowd for a moment, then started speaking. ‘I was in a funeral scene once, on Hot Press . How many such scenes have we seen on our screens? The weeping widow. The yawning grave. Often a mysterious figure in the background. And yet, and yet . Each time is the first time, is it not? I tried to bring that awareness to the scene when I played…’

‘This isn’t a television show. It’s someone’s actual life,’ Julia snapped. It wasn’t like her, but she’d had more than enough of Hector’s self-involvement. ‘Someone’s death and someone’s real life. Real grief. Not a scene in a play or a soap opera.’

‘Of course, of course,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to be insensitive. It’s just that an actor can’t help being an actor. I…’

Julia thought her head might explode if she heard the word ‘I’ come out of Hector’s mouth one more time. Fortunately for her cranium, Sean arrived at just that moment with a plate of food. Julia turned her back on Hector to speak to Sean. ‘All okay?’ she asked.

‘Yes. Just saying hello to a few people. Fending off bunion questions left, right and centre.’

She laughed. It was a standing joke between them that Sean could not go anywhere in Berrywick and its surrounds without bumping into a patient, and a good half of the patients he bumped into took the opportunity to ask him for a medical opinion. Very often about bunions.

‘Well, I’m glad you’re back. Should we go?’

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘I’ll see if I can say a quick hello and goodbye to Jane and we can be on our way.’

She waited for an old man to finish giving his condolences and let go of Jane’s hand, which he’d been pressing and squeezing as if trying to wring out a damp cloth. As he turned away, Julia stepped forward. ‘Jane, dear. How are you holding up? Can I bring you anything? A cup of tea, perhaps?’

‘Oh, no, Julia, thank you. I’m all right. Just a bit…you know…’ Jane twirled her hand at the wrist to indicate whatever it was that Julia might know, the words for which weren’t coming to her at that precise moment.

‘It’s very hard for you, and you’ve done so well.’

‘Thank you, Julia. It is. Very hard. So many people…’ Jane looked around, seemingly bewildered.

‘Well, Graham was very well-respected and loved,’ said Julia. ‘There might be some comfort in that.’

‘He was, wasn’t he?’ There was something slightly off about Jane’s tone when she said that. Julia sighed. There was no doubt that Jane had overdone it on the anti-anxiety meds.

‘Oh yes,’ Julia told Jane. ‘His staff were saying how wonderful he was. They were very upset. He must have been a good employer.’

‘Who?’ said Jane, with a frown. She really must be more careful with the meds, Julia thought.

‘Graham. A good employer.’

Jane’s woozy eyes snapped into focus. ‘I mean, who said that? Who was upset? One of the girls?’

‘Yes, one of the girls. A few of them, I’m sure,’ said Julia.

‘A few of the work girls?’ Jane looked distressed.

‘Yes. Now, you look after yourself, Jane. Get a good night’s sleep. And I’ll come and see you during the week.’