Logan smiled. ‘It’s not the time, but you looksopretty, Blackcurrant.’
‘Thanks.’
‘How do you even do that?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Turn up looking like that and make me feel better?’
‘Ahh, I’m a master.’ Cally joked, glad that the tension in the air had eased a little bit.
‘You are. I don’t know how I’d be doing this without you.’
‘I wouldn’t be anywhere else.’
34
Logan’s grip on Cally’s hand was so tight as they walked out of the cottage in the direction of the funeral cars she thought one of the bones in her hand might fracture. The sight outside the main entrance of Lovely Manor wasn’t the best, as far as Cally was concerned. She gulped as they walked across the gravel drive. They then stopped by the hedge to the left of the steps and she drew a breath as she stood next to Logan and watched Cecilia and Reg come out of the front door. Both of them appeared as if, in the space of a few weeks, they had agedmanyyears. Cecilia not only looked old, tired, grief-stricken and drawn, but she also had a look on her face Cally couldn’t quite fathom. There wasn’t even a word for it, as far as Cally could make out. She narrowed her eyes and squinted at Cecilia as she got into one of the huge black funeral cars. The look on Cecilia’s face was worse than distraught; it said that she would never be the same again.
A funeral director in a black morning suit came up to them, held out his hand and directed them towards the correct car. Once they were in the back of the car, Logan gripped Cally’s hand again as if hanging on for dear life. As the gravel crunched when the car pulled away, Cally gazed up at the bright blue skyabove Lovely Manor and the swathe of poppies in the distance. The blue sky and pretty scene felt all wrong. Slipping her sunglasses out of her bag and onto her face to use them as a bit of a shield, she sat staring out of the window as silence strangled the car and nobody said a word.
The car remained silent, Logan’s grip didn’t lighten, and Cally continued to stare out of the window as the funeral procession made its way through the main street of Lovely. A few people stood outside shops with their heads bowed, cars pulled to the side, and as they stopped at some traffic lights in the High Street, Cally let her eyes rest on the red brake lights of the funeral car ahead and couldn’t quite believe that Alastair had passed away. She felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes as she realised it could have been any of them. She could have been the grieving partner. Her life could have been ultimately tipped upside down. She could be the one in Octavia’s shoes. It made her want to wrap Logan in clingfilm and never let him go. It all felt very unfair. As the traffic inched along the road, it fleetingly went through her mind that it didn’t matter where you were in life, how much money you had, or whether or not you had family – bad thingscouldanddidhappen at any time.
The silence still draped the car as it approached the church, where a sea of traffic and a long line of vehicles parked in the surrounding lanes indicated that there were a lot of people at the funeral. Even that, however, did not prepare Cally for the number of people inside the church as they entered through the blue nave door. As they walked in, Cally’s heart pounded at the sight of hundreds of mourners in black facing towards the altar. An organ played from a balcony behind them, the little tea lights glowed from every nook and cranny, and every inch of the church was tightly packed with people. Additional chairs down the side walls were also occupied, the gallery area to the backright was full, and people were standing anywhere there was an inch of space.
As the procession made its way through the centre aisle of the church, Cally took in the beautiful stained glass windows and watched as little sparkles of light caught dust motes in the air. She averted her eyes from the coffin and tried to keep a neutral look on her face as they passed the rows and rows of mourners dressed in black. Logan still gripped her hand tightly, the tension radiating from him to her. As they slipped into a pew at the front marked with a reserved sign for family, the organ music swelled and then faded away, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.
We are gathered here today to celebrate the life and mourn the passing of Alastair Henry-Hicks.
The service continued, a blur of hymns and readings. When it was Logan's turn to speak, Cally held her breath. He stood slowly, making his way to the front with measured steps. For a moment, he stood silently, his gaze sweeping over the congregation. Then he began to speak in a very sad, low voice. By the time he had finished speaking, there wasn't a dry eye in the church and when he sat back down, Cecilia reached out along the pew and squeezed his hand, tears streaming down her face.
Half an hour or so later, the last notes of the organ faded away and the congregation began to file out of the church. Cally blinked rapidly as they stepped outside, her eyes struggling to adjust to the beautiful day, relieved that it was over. With emotions high, she felt drained and sad. Logan was worse. As she glanced up at him, he lookedutterlyexhausted, as if the weight of his grief was a physical burden sitting squarely on his shoulders.
She smiled at him and put her hand on his back. 'You did brilliantly.’
'I couldn't have got through it without you.'
‘You should be proud of yourself. That wasnoteasy.’
Logan shook his head. 'I want to get the rest of this over with. I don't know how much more of this I can take. It all feels so final now, you know? Like this is really it. Alastair's gone, and he's not coming back.'
Cally felt as if her heart was cracking at the pain in Logan’s voice. ‘It won’t always be like this.’
Logan nodded. ‘Thank God I’ve got you. I wouldn’t have made this otherwise.’
35
Cally needed a blackcurrant. Hot Blackcurrant. Possibly, with four hundred measures of gin sloshed in the top. A time machine might go down well, too. Meaning that she could hop in, flick a few switches, and transport herself and the rest of the Henry-Hicks family back to Scotland and stop Alastair and Octavia from going on their travels. Which in turn would mean that Alastair would still be alive. That would then mean that Logan would not be wading around in the depths of grief and trying to counteract it by consuming copious amounts of white wine. Unfortunately, there weren’t any time machines at our Cally’s disposal. Nor was it a good idea for her to join him in the numbing qualities of alcohol by drinking too much gin. It would not be good for her to get hammered. One of them needed to keep their wits about them.
It had been a long day. Cally had started the day dealing with complaints on the chatbot where she was doing her last few shifts, spent the middle of the day cleaning the cottage and the end of the day wondering what she could suggest to Logan that might, firstly, take his mind off Alastair, and secondly, stop him from sitting on either her or his sofa and working his way down a bottle of wine or two.
Logan had been with her all day. It was as if he was stuck to her side. Whilst beside her, he didn’tdoorsaymuch at all. He’d followed her out of bed when she’d got up for the chatbot shift, silently made them both a cup of tea and sat more or less as close as he could get to her without sitting on her laptop as she’d worked. He’d done the same when they’d gone to the cottage, shadowing her while cleaning. It felt more than weird to Cally that she was the one in the lead. Ever since she’d met Logan, he’d been dynamic, buzzy, full-on, and had very much played the alpha role. Now, he was in the depths of zeta mode. Cally didn’t like how it felt at all.
Despite being stuck to her like glue all day, Logan had said all of seventeen words to her.Want a coffee from the deli? Done with the chatbot?And her favourite:What did you do with the bleach?
Now, they were back at the flat and Cally had suggested all sorts of things to get them out. She’d even included going bowling as an idea. That was a new low. Not that she really wanted to go out, and certainly not bowling. Before the accident, she’d been more than happy to snuggle up on the sofa, tucked in and intertwined with Logan, and have a few drinks. Now, with him in his current state, not so much.
Whilst Logan was in the bath, she slid her laptop over and did a search on “tips for when someone is going through grief”. She felt as if, with her own experience, she should know. However, oddly, she felt the opposite and had no idea. Even weirder and really nasty she'd felt a couple of times like telling him to suck it up. That in itself horrified her. She read the first article and nodded. The first tip spoke of precisely what had happened in her day. It said to be present and that simply being there for someone, even in silence, could be comforting. As she read further, she agreed that grief was isolating. She knew how that felt for sure.
