The Annie Carter Series Books 1–4. Jessie Keane

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       36

      Another fucking funeral, thought Annie. She ought to feel sadder. This was her mother being planted in the ground. Sooner or later she might begin to feel some sort of real loss instead of relief – but she doubted it.

      ‘Thanks for coming with me, Dolly love,’ she said to the woman sitting beside her in the back of the black Jaguar Mk X. Donny was up front as usual, sitting silently behind the wheel. Max was, of course, with Ruthie. Some of Connie’s friends would be here, although times had been hard for Connie and friends had been few. But all Max’s boys and their families would turn out. This was Max Carter’s mother-in-law, after all. One of the family and to be shown the appropriate level of respect. Jonjo was there, so were Jimmy and Kath and her mother, Maureen.

      Annie sat and watched them all walk past and disappear into the church with the funeral cortège. The coffin was draped in pink flowers. Pink had been Connie’s favourite colour. It was Ruthie’s, too. She’d seen Ruthie, arm in arm with Max, following behind the coffin. That was where Annie should be too, but that would be pushing it too far. She’d already decided she would wait until everyone else was inside the church, then follow on and just sit quietly at the back.

      ‘It was good of you to keep me company,’ she said to Dolly.

      ‘That’s okay.’ Dolly pulled a face. ‘I know what it’s like when you don’t get on with your mum and dad. You hate them but you love them too, ain’t that right? I cried buckets when my old dad died, the rotten bastard. You feel guilty because you hate them, and you hate yourself because you love them.’

      Annie looked at Dolly with a new warmth. Dolly was respectably dressed today in a neat navy dress and matching coat. Her hair was styled in an urchin cut and the colour had been toned down – less brass, more honey. Dolly looked a treat, and Annie was proud of her. She’d backed a winner in Dolly, she was sure. Whatever Dolly had previously lacked in polish, she more than made up for in spirit.

      ‘We ought to go in,’ said Annie, not wanting to.

      ‘It’ll be okay,’ said Dolly. ‘These things are never as bad as you think they’re going to be. People behave themselves at funerals. Max Carter won’t have anyone kicking off, trust me.’

      ‘Yeah, you’re right,’ said Annie. She took a breath. ‘Right, let’s go.’

      They got out of the car. It was a bright, sunny day, which seemed wrong somehow. At Eddie’s funeral there had been spatters of rain and an icy wind, which had suited the occasion better.

      ‘Let’s get this over with,’ said Annie with distaste, then she spotted the woman standing out by the lych gate. She felt a twinge of annoyance. She wanted everyone inside before she went in. What was the hold up? Then she froze. She grabbed Dolly’s arm and stared intently. ‘Hey, Doll. Don’t that look like Celia out by the gate?’

      Dolly turned, and looked. The woman had a black veil over her face, but there was something about her dress and demeanour that shouted Celia.

      ‘Yeah, it is. I think it’s Celia.’ Dolly started waving. ‘Hey, Celia,’ she shouted.

      Fuck it, thought Annie as the woman turned and hurried away. Trust Dolly to open her yap and scare her off.

      ‘Come on,’ she said, and hurried after the woman. She heard Donny lumbering out of the car and slamming the door, the heavy tread of his size twelves on the gravel behind her as she legged it towards the lych gate. She wasn’t ever supposed to rush off without Donny, she knew that. But fuck it, this was Celia. Well, she hoped it was.

      When they reached the gate the woman was already some distance away, walking fast towards a waiting taxi.

      ‘Fuck, she’s getting away,’ said Annie, and kicked off her courts and ran. The woman had the back door of the taxi open and was climbing inside when Annie barrelled into her and grabbed her and held on tight.

      ‘Hey!’ said the taxi driver. ‘You gettin’ in, or you havin’ a friggin’ dance?’

      Dolly came hobbling up clutching Annie’s shoes. Donny arrived right on her heels, panting.

      ‘Jesus, I didn’t realize we were havin’ a fuckin’ tea party here,’ said the taxi driver.

      ‘Hold on,’ said Annie. ‘Celia?’

      The woman got back out of the taxi.

      ‘Now what the fuck?’ roared the taxi driver. ‘Make your bloody mind up love, in or fucking out?’

      Donny leaned into the front passenger window. The taxi driver leaned away from him.

      ‘Shut yer mouth, my friend, or I’ll shut it for you,’ Donny said gently.

      The taxi driver held up both hands. ‘Hey, no offence, pal. I’m just the driver.’

      ‘Then drive,’ Donny suggested, and the taxi driver gunned the engine and roared away.

      ‘I already paid for that cab,’ came Celia’s voice from behind the veil. ‘Let me go, Annie. I shouldn’t have bloody come here.’

      Annie didn’t give a shit. She pushed back Celia’s veil.

      ‘Fuck me,’ said Dolly breathlessly. ‘Celia!’

      Celia looked miffed, but well all the same. Annie hadn’t known what to expect when she’d shoved the veil out of the way. Scars or something maybe. She didn’t know. But now she felt almost limp with relief. The button-bright brown eyes were the same, and the carefully made-up face. It was Celia. She looked a little older, more care-worn, like she’d had it hard. But she was okay.

      ‘For God’s sake, Celia, where have you been?’ demanded Annie. ‘What the hell were you thinking of running off like that and leaving nothing but a fucking note? We were thinking all sorts, we were bloody frantic with worry over you.’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ mumbled Celia, eyes downcast.

      ‘Sorry? Is that all you’ve got to say? We were pulling our ruddy hair out and you say sorry?’ Annie grabbed Celia’s shoulders. ‘What’s been going on, Celia? Why’d you go like that?’

      Celia just shook her head.

      Annie looked at her aunt. Maybe she was being too hard on her. She must have had her reasons. She let go of her shoulders and reached for her hand. Celia stepped back, almost cringed away from her.

      ‘No, let me go …’ she started to say.

      Annie looked down. The ivory fag holder was missing. The ivory fag holder in the right hand. Annie stared and suddenly felt faint.

      ‘Jesus,’ she said.

      Celia had no right СКАЧАТЬ