Undertaking Love (29 page)

The four men placed Dora’s casket carefully in its place before the altar and then took their seats. All except Jonny, who stepped up to the lectern and stood silent with his head bowed until the last strains of the music ebbed away.

He drew a deep breath, and on behalf of Ivan, thanked the congregation for coming. Everyone in the church had their own memories of Dora, and Jonny enriched them as he shared a little of Dora’s early life. How she’d been the last surviving member of seven children, and of how devastated she’d been to lose her beloved eldest brother Billy when he went down with HMS Courageous during the Second World War. Many of the elderly congregation bowed their heads, their own wartime losses ever close to their hearts.

Jonny’s affection for Dora shone star-bright in his every word. He made many of the congregation cry with his heartfelt anecdotes gathered from Dora’s many friends, and gentle laughter rippled around the chapel as he recounted a memorable day last winter when she’d tumbled down the step into the local shoe shop. She’d knocked over every single rack as she gathered momentum like a bull in a china shop, completely trashing the place. He paused to allow people to settle again, and then wrapped up his speech with a simple acknowledgment of how large a hole Dora had left behind in the lives of all who loved her.

Ivan most of all.

Finally, Jonny looked across at Gabriel, who straightened his tie and approached the lectern.

Marla couldn’t take her eyes off him. She hadn’t allowed herself to so much as glance in his direction over the last four weeks; having him here was torture. It seemed that she was destined for famine or feast where he was concerned, and neither option did anything to settle her stomach.

He glanced her way and held her gaze for a second that might have been an hour, and in that moment she felt sure that everyone in the building knew they’d had sex. She dropped her eyes to her patent black Mary Janes to minimize the number of people that would see her scarlet cheeks.

‘Ivan has asked me to speak on his behalf this afternoon,’ Gabe began, and his beautiful accent pulled her eyes like magnets back to his face.

‘It’s my honour and my pleasure, because Dora was one in a million. She made my move here so much easier with her simple kindnesses, her endless supplies of biscuits and her no-nonsense advice.’

He smiled sadly.

‘She was funny, and she was kind. A true friend, and I will miss her immeasurably.’

He paused, and he reached inside his jacket for Ivan’s speech.

‘Okay, so over to Ivan.’

He bowed his head towards Ivan on the front row, and then began to read.

‘It was raining the day I met Dora. October sixth, 1939. She was just fifteen but already very beautiful, like a young Rita Hayworth, she was. All the other girls were huddled together under the eves of the youth club, but my Dora just twirled and lifted her face up to the rain.

That was it, she was the girl for me and I didn’t waste any time in telling her so.

Then the war came along and everything changed – everything apart from Dora, that is. Her letters kept me alive through times when I could have easily lain down and died. I was determined to get home to my girl.’

Gabe paused as Ivan wiped his eyes with his huge white handkerchief and held up a shaky hand to still him. He turned to Marla and handed her an envelope.

‘I reckon my Dora would have liked you to read this out now.’

Marla nodded as she looked at the frail envelope with tear-filled eyes.

She joined Gabe at the lectern, and he stepped aside to allow her centre stage.

Marla drew strength from the sad smile of gratitude on Ivan’s face.

‘Ivan has asked me to read this letter to you all.’

She eased the notepaper from its envelope.

‘It’s dated August, 1944.’

Her throat burned as she scanned the letter quickly, and she took a moment to compose herself. She needed to do Dora justice. Both the elderly lady she’d known and loved, and the hopeful young newly-wed with a full heart and a primrose dress.

‘Dearest Ivan,

It was such a wrench to leave you at the station last weekend, although by the time this letter finds you it will probably be more like three weeks ago. Maybe even more. How I wish that you were not so far away from me, my darling. I keep looking down at my hand to make sure that my wedding ring is still there and I haven’t dreamt that I am actually your wife!

Wasn’t it just the most marvellous day?

You looked terribly handsome in your uniform, I really thought I might actually die of happiness when I saw you waiting for me at the altar.

I have to go now as I’m expected at the factory in an hour, but whenever you read this, remember that you are always my first and last thought each day.

All my prayers are that you will come home safely to me.

Your loving wife,

Dora.’

Silence fell over the congregation as Marla folded the letter and returned it to its envelope with trembling fingers. Gabe stepped closer, and the warmth of his hand against the small of her back made her long to turn into the safety of his arms.

‘Well done. You did Dora proud,’ he murmured against her hair, then propelled her lightly back towards her seat between Ivan and her mother. The old man patted her hand and nodded as he tucked Dora’s letter back inside his jacket.

At the lectern, Gabe cleared his throat and glanced down at the paper in his hand to complete Ivan’s speech.

‘I was the proudest man alive the day Dora married me. We were never lucky enough to be blessed with children, so she’s been my everything for more than sixty years. She is more than just my guiding light.’
Gabe placed the speech down slowly and raised his eyes to Marla’s.
‘She is the rock that this lighthouse stands on.’

Marla’s heart cracked wide open. It was the most beautiful, sentimental thing she’d ever heard, and she suddenly understood why Dora had worn her little diamond lighthouse brooch every single day. It must have been a love token from Ivan, as precious in its own way as her wedding ring.

The hauntingly familiar intro bars of Dame Vera Lynn’s war-time anthem ‘We’ll Meet Again’ floated out across the chapel, and all around the room tissues were pulled from handbags as old and young hearts alike swelled with pride.

Gabe stepped down from the lectern and joined the pallbearers around the casket. Dora’s elderly friends and fellow war survivors stood and joined their voices with Dame Vera’s, their swelling song a beautiful tribute as Dora left the chapel for the final time.

Marla rubbed Emily’s back as she sobbed, and together they helped Ivan outside to Tom’s car.

Everyone filed out behind them to watch the funeral cortege leave for the cemetery: Gabe and Dan in the front of the hearse, Emily and Tom escorting Ivan in the car behind.

It was only as the hearse disappeared around the corner that someone in the lingering crowd glanced towards the funeral parlour.

‘Fire!’

A collective shriek went up around the group assembled on the grass, and several of the younger men sprang into action and dashed to see what was happening.

Marla, who had been about to drive herself and her mother to the cemetery, stared in horror at the orange glow inside the front window of the parlour.

‘I’ll call the fire brigade,’ she yelled over the racket and ducked back into the chapel to grab her mobile.

By the time she ran back outside again several minutes later the glow had grown into a blaze, and the crowd had at least doubled, if not tripled.

The flames had really taken hold in the reception area, and as the wail of sirens came down the high street the front window of the funeral parlour exploded outwards with an ear splitting crack.

Within minutes, Firefighters spilled out of an engine from all sides. They set up a cordon to keep the crowds safe, as others unreeled hosepipes at lightning speed.

‘Poor Gabriel,’ Cecilia muttered as she clutched onto Marla’s arm.

All around her, Marla could hear snippets of conversation from the over-excited crowd.

‘He’ll be ruined,’ said one.

‘I’ll bet it was arson!’ speculated another.

‘Insurance job. Funeral was the perfect cover,’ a sly voice chimed in.

Marla’s head swum with all of the theories.

Why was it human nature to automatically assume the worst of people?

‘I can smell pork!’ someone yelled, excitedly. ‘It’ll be the stiffs in there cooking!’

Marla swung around to face a gang of teenage boys that had gathered behind her.

‘Don’t be so bloody disrespectful!’ she spat, but all the same, the words struck fear into her heart.

Were
there bodies in there? It was too horrific to contemplate.

‘I’m going back into the chapel,’ she murmured to her mother. ‘Someone should try to get hold of Gabe.’

Back inside the quiet confines of the chapel, the enormity of the situation hit her. All of those people outside were right. Gabe
would
be ruined, and people
would
jump to conclusions. Jesus, she’d wanted him gone, but not like this.

She sat down at her desk in the office. Thankfully it looked as if the fire service were winning their battle to tame the fire; it was less inferno-like now and more of a drenched, smoking mess.

She dialled Emily’s mobile number as she stared out of the window, but after a couple of rings it clicked through to answer phone.
Crap.

‘Emily, it’s Marla. Listen. There’s been a fire at the funeral parlour. The fire service is here now, but it’s bad, Em. It’s really bad. Tell Gabe to get back here straight …’ She trailed off, dumbstruck as one of the firemen stumbled from the funeral parlour with a burned and blackened form in his arms.

A very limp female form. Long black hair trailed over the fireman’s arm as he carried her to the ambulance that had joined the scene.

Melanie.

Sweet Jesus.

‘Just tell him to get back here, Emily. Quickly.’

‘That’s about all for tonight, Mr Ryan. We’ll be in touch in the morning.’

Gabe shook DCI Pearson’s hand and watched him hurry away down the street towards his car. It was a little after 7 p.m. on what had turned out to be one of the longest days of his life.

Behind him the funeral parlour smouldered, still officially off limits until the fire officer declared it safe.

He didn’t have the stomach to go inside anyway.

Not tonight, anyhow. Nor tomorrow. Maybe never again.

It was a miracle that the morgue had been empty. Although actually, it wasn’t divine intervention that had saved him. His empty mortuary had a lot more to do with the fall-out from Rupert’s scathing attack in
The Sunday Herald
. How ironic that it should turn out to be Gabe’s saving grace; not that he would rush to shake Rupert’s hand any time soon. He dropped down and sat on the edge of the curb with his head in his hands.

‘Beer?’

Dan sauntered across from the chapel and handed him an already open bottle. Gabe downed it in one, and Dan handed him his own.

‘What did the dibble have to say?’

Dan glanced behind them at the shadowy funeral parlour and winced.

‘Nothing they could say, really.’ Gabe shrugged. ‘Melanie’s confessed to starting the fire, so it’s an open and shut case for them.’

Dan puffed out hard and shook his head.

‘I always thought she was a bit weird, but even I didn’t have her pegged as a full-on Glenn Close. Psycho or what?’

Gabe tried and failed to find the words to articulate his shock at the extremities of Melanie’s behaviour.

‘She could have died,’ he muttered, as much to himself as to Dan.

He couldn’t get his head around how desperate Melanie must have been to do something like this.

‘She picked the right place to do it then,’ Dan quipped, but even he couldn’t expect to raise a laugh out of Gabe tonight. He dropped a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

‘You were insured though, right, buddy?’

Gabe nodded with a heavy sigh.

‘That’s alright then.’ Dan clapped him on the back. ‘This is as straightforward as it gets. You’ll be back in business in no time, mate.’

Gabe downed the last of the second beer and didn’t answer.

Dan was right, but he wasn’t sure he had the heart for it anymore.

It had been bedlam when he’d arrived back here this afternoon, but he’d taken one look at his burned out business and made it clear that Dora’s wake was to remain top priority for everyone else. His world might have collapsed around his ears, but it was bricks and mortar. Ivan’s loss was far greater. He nodded bleakly towards the chapel.

‘How’s it gone over there this afternoon?’

‘Ah, the usual. Lots of golden oldies who’ve had a skinful of sherry. Most of them have gone home now with a plate of leftovers balanced on the handlebars of their mobility scooters.’

Gabe knew Dan well enough to know that wisecracks were part of his DNA. They were his coping mechanism; this was the closest he came to being serious.

‘Is Marla still there?’

Dan nodded.

Gabe pulled himself up from the curb, the two beer bottles in one hand.

‘Get rid of these, bud.’ He handed the empties to Dan. ‘There’s something I need to do.’

Marla kicked off her heels and poured herself a well-earned brandy from one of the many half-empty bottles in the kitchen. She’d just closed the door on the last of the mourners, and Emily and Tom had taken a rather worse for wear Ivan home with them for the evening. At times it had felt as if the day would never end, and the lure of a strong drink and a quiet five minutes was irresistible. She’d just flopped down into a chair when she heard the chapel door open again.

‘Marla?’

She closed her eyes and wished for strength as Gabe’s voice echoed around the chapel. Being around him was always such hard work, and she was so tired.

‘In the kitchen,’ she called out, not bothering to get up.

He appeared around the doorway, and the weary look on his face mirrored her own feelings so closely that she couldn’t be annoyed by his interruption any more. She waved an arm towards the empty seats around her in invitation.