How to Say Goodbye. Katy Colins

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ of a yogi, volunteered her time for charity, and had seen the world, ticking off country after country that I could only dream of visiting. I bet she could speak at least one foreign language, made fresh healthy juices each morning, and was the person you realised was absent from social events.

      Her perfect smile radiated off my laptop screen, eyes crinkled in a genuine laugh at the camera lens. You could tell by looking at her that she was someone you wanted on your team. She seemed so confident with who she was and the life she led. I had to keep reminding myself of the fact that this woman was no longer alive – it seemed impossible to get my head around it, and I hadn’t even known her. What must her husband and family be going through, losing such a vibrant woman with a clear zest for life?

      I clicked on my own Facebook profile, using this newfound critical eye for detail to really take a good look at myself. What would someone uncover about me once I was gone? My closest friends were an eighty-three-year-old woman and a forty-something shopkeeper.

      I sighed deeply.

      This was Henry’s fault. I’d had close friends, a fun and exciting life in London and a promising future planned, before he ruined everything. I couldn’t help but pull at one of the threads on my sleeve at the thought of him, tugging it around my finger, watching it turn the tip an angry purple colour. I shouldn’t go there. I needed to concentrate on myself and what I could control. That was what Doctor Ahmed always said.

      I shook my head. This wasn’t about Henry. This was about Abbie Anderson and giving this vivacious, inspirational woman the send-off she deserved. For the first time, I felt overwhelmed with the uncertainty of how exactly I was going to go about this.

Chapter 8

      As expected, Linda had been very eager to hear about my Ask a Funeral Arranger event. I’d given a noncommittal, vague answer about how it had been a little quieter than expected, omitting the fact that only two people had turned up, one who already had a funeral plan with us and the other who was much too young to sign up for one.

      ‘Great. So you did get some sign-ups?’

      ‘Er…’

      She raised an eyebrow. I wasn’t fooling her.

      ‘Seriously. Not one bit of interest?’

      I couldn’t cope with the smugness radiating from her and the way she held her biro to her pursed lips, tapping at the smirk painted on them.

      ‘Oh, yes, well, I mean there was one man who seemed keen to know more…’ I lied.

      ‘Really?’

      ‘I’m just about to give him a call to confirm his appointment actually…’ I trailed out. She refused to take her eyes off me. Why had I said that? Why not admit it had been a total waste of time? I picked up my phone and for a moment thought about calling up the talking clock and pretending, but that was even more pathetic. I scrolled through my contacts list. Who could I call? Who would be receptive to me trying to sell them their own funeral? I settled on a gentleman I’d met a few months ago at a funeral service.

      Please don’t pick up, please don’t pick up.

      ‘Hello?’ A gruff voice answered. My stomach dropped.

      ‘Hello, is that Mr Baxter?’

      ‘Yes?’

      ‘Oh hello, my name is Grace Salmon. I’m calling from Ryebrook Funeral Home and wondered if you had a moment to talk about your funeral?’

      ‘What? You what? It’s who?’

      I couldn’t work out where he was, but there was music and laughter in the background. He was quite an elderly gentleman. I raised my voice.

      ‘It’s Grace Salmon! Is now a good time?’

      I caught Linda sniggering into her raised fist as I shouted down the line.

      ‘Salmon? What? I can’t hear a bloody thing,’ he muttered. ‘Are you selling me something?’

      This was not going well.

      ‘No. Well, yes. I wanted to speak to you about arrangements for your funeral, to see about making an appointment to discuss plans to lock it in at today’s prices.’ I winced. Linda made this seem so effortless.

      ‘My funeral? I really can’t hear a thing…’

      I was losing him. To be fair I’d never had him in the first place, but I needed to keep him on the line a little longer. I thought of a different tack, one I’d seen Linda use.

      ‘You want to take the burden of planning your funeral away from your loved ones, don’t you?’

      There was a pause. What sounded like the tinkle of a fruit machine and hearty male laughter.

      ‘Mr Baxter? Are you there?’

      ‘I don’t know who this is but I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling.’

      ‘No, sir, I’m not –’

      ‘Wait. Is this Gerald? Ah, you got me there.’ He broke into a loud guffaw. ‘Calling about my funeral, you cheeky git. He set you up to this, didn’t he?’

      ‘No, I don’t know anyone called Gerald…’

      Linda was making spluttering noises, trying to keep her suppressed giggles in. Mr Baxter wasn’t listening to my protestations.

      ‘You tell him from me that I’ll get him back for this. It’s a good one, though, funeral planning. I’ll have to remember that.’

      He’d hung up before I could convince him that I was genuine.

      ‘OK, well, I’ll see you soon then,’ I said brightly into the empty phone line, and placed the receiver down. ‘He’s going to have a think about it,’ I said to Linda, before turning round to face my screen and hide the blush on my cheeks.

      ‘Ladies – Abbie Anderson?’ Frank broke Linda’s spluttering of giggles as he walked over to our desks. He was eating a satsuma, juice dribbling between his chubby fingers.

      ‘Sorry?’

      He had a tiny flake of pith trapped in his beard.

      ‘I’ve just taken a call from a local rag reporter about an Abbie Anderson. A model, apparently? They wanted to know if we were dealing with her service.’

      ‘That name rings a bell.’ Linda began rooting around her messy desk.

      ‘Yes, we are,’ I said. She stopped lifting up pieces of papers and stared at me. ‘Her husband and her sister-in-law visited me to start the process.’

      Frank was cut off from whatever he was about to say by a loud huff.

      ‘I’m sure I made that appointment,’ Linda frowned.

      ‘Oh, well, you weren’t here when Mr Anderson arrived so I took it on. I didn’t want to turn him СКАЧАТЬ