As the singer made his way down the center of the room and the tempo of the song picked up, he too picked up . . . six showgirls seated strategically at the end of rows nearest the aisle. Each one stood in turn and shed a respectable coat to reveal a risqué costume, lavish jewels, and astonishing tail feathers. Eunice was amazed that they had been able to sit on them. By the time the gorgeous creature and his extraordinary entourage had reached the front of the room, the song was approaching its climax. He turned in front of the urn to face his audience and belted out the final lines while his chorus line high-kicked in unison behind him. With the final, defiant note, all but one person in the room erupted into a spontaneous standing ovation. Portia simply passed out.
Gavin basked unashamedly in his triumph all the way to the country churchyard in Kent where the biscuits were to be buried next to Grace and Godfrey. Portia had provided a cavalcade of black stretch limousines to transport everyone, but Eunice and Gavin chose to travel independently, listening to show tunes and eating salt and vinegar crisps in Gavin’s Audi convertible. Eunice felt slightly guilty about Godfrey and Grace being forced to share their grave with an urn of assorted biscuits under false pretenses, but she was hopeful that, given the circumstances, they would understand that it had been unavoidable. As they pulled into the very churchyard where Eunice had promised to carry out Bomber’s final wishes, Eunice confessed everything to Gavin.
“Holy Mary, mother of God, and Danny La Rue in a shoe box!” he exclaimed. “My poor darling girl, what on earth are you going to do now?”
Eunice checked her hat in the rearview mirror and reached for the door handle.
“I have absolutely no bloody idea whatsoever.”
CHAPTER 48
Shirley switched on the computer and checked the messages on the answer machine. It was Monday morning, and Mondays were always busy because of all the strays that were brought in over the weekend. She had worked at Battersea Dogs’ and Cats’ Home for fifteen years now and had seen a lot of changes. But one thing never changed; the strays kept coming. The post had already arrived and Shirley began sorting through the pile of envelopes. One envelope was addressed in fountain pen. The writing was in a sweeping, extravagant hand and Shirley was curious. Inside was a handwritten letter.
To Whom It May Concern,
Please find enclosed a donation in memory of my beloved brother, who has recently died. He was very fond of dogs and adopted two from your establishment. The only condition that I attach to said donation is that you erect a plaque in his memory in some public place in your grounds. It should read:
IN LOVING MEMORY OF BOMBER, A PRECIOUS SON, AN ADORED BROTHER, A LOYAL FRIEND, AND A DEVOTED DOG LOVER.
Rest in Peace with Douglas and Baby Jane.
I shall send my representative in due course to ensure that these instructions have been carried out in a satisfactory manner.
Yours faithfully,
Portia Brockley
Shirley shook her head in disbelief. Damn cheek! It was true that all donations were gratefully received, but a plaque like that would cost a pretty penny. She turned her attention to the check that was attached rather quaintly by a paper clip to the letter and nearly fainted. There were so many naughts that it looked as though the two at the beginning of the figure had been blowing bubbles.
CHAPTER 49
Laura felt as though she were poised on the brink of a precipice and didn’t know whether she was going to fall or fly. She had made sure that she was going to be alone today. Sunshine was having a rare day out with her mum and she hadn’t seen Freddy since her shameful outburst in the rose garden. She had tried ringing him, but his phone went straight to voice mail, where she had left a groveling and heartfelt apology, but it seemed it was too late. She had heard nothing in reply and Freddy had not been back to Padua since that night. She couldn’t think what else to do. Sunshine kept telling her that Freddy would come back, but Laura knew now he wouldn’t. She had slept fitfully and woke stranded in a no-man’s-land somewhere between excitement and foreboding. The house felt oppressive. Even Carrot was restless; pacing up and down, his nails clicking on the tiles. As Laura prepared for her visitor, she had a feeling that the storm was about to break. Padua had been very quiet for the past few days. The door to Therese’s bedroom remained locked from the inside and there had been no music. But it was not the kind of quiet that came with peace and contentment. It was a bitter silence brought on by desolation and defeat. Laura had failed Therese, and in so doing, she had failed Anthony. His final wishes remained unfulfilled.
Someone was coming to collect the ashes in the biscuit tin. They had been claimed. Laura hadn’t told Sunshine and it wasn’t just because of the bet. She wanted to do this alone. She couldn’t explain why, even to herself, but it was important. The doorbell rang at precisely two o’clock, the agreed hour of their appointment, and Laura opened the door to a small, slim woman in her sixties, stylishly dressed and wearing a cobalt-blue trilby.
“I’m Eunice,” she said.
As Laura took the hand she was offered, she felt the tension that had gripped her melt away.
“Would you like tea, or perhaps something stronger?” asked Laura. For some unfathomable reason, it felt as though they had something to celebrate.