Page 107 of The Thursday Murder Club
She sat on the lounger that she bought me, and here is what she said.
“Remember when you moved in here, and I told you it was a mistake? I told you it would be the end of you? Sitting in your chair, surrounded by other people just waiting out their days? I was wrong. It was the beginning of you, Mum. I thought I would never see you happy again after Dad died.”
(We had never talked about this. Both our faults.)
“Your eyes are alive, your laugh is back, and it’s thanks to Coopers Chase, and to Elizabeth, and to Ron and Ibrahim, and to Bernard, God rest his soul. And so I bought it—the company, the land, the whole development. And I bought it to say thank you, Mum. Though I know what you’re going to say next, and I promise I will also make millions out of it, so don’t panic.”
Well, I wasn’t panicking, but that was what I was going to say next.
And so a couple of things you will want to know. The Garden of Eternal Rest is staying exactly where it is. Joanna says they’ll make quite enoughmoney out of Hillcrest, so the Woodlands has been quietly shelved. The graveyard is now protected, even if Coopers Chase is sold again (Joanna says they will sell it again one day; that’s their job). But just you try and buy it—you’ll see there are all sorts of covenants in place. It’s going nowhere.
By the way, just now, when I said it was both our faults that we hadn’t talked about Gerry? Of course it wasn’t both our faults. It was my fault. Sorry, Joanna.
We had a ceremony the other day. Elizabeth invited Matthew Mackie for lunch, and along he came, no dog collar this time. We broke the news to him that Maggie was safe, and I thought he would cry, but he didn’t; he just asked to visit the grave. We walked up the hill with him, then we sat on Bernard and Asima’s bench while he pushed open the iron gates and knelt beside the grave. That was when the tears came, as we knew they would when he saw the headstone.
I had watched a couple of days ago as Bogdan had spent the best part of the morning gently cleaning up the inscription “Sister Margaret Anne, Margaret Farrell, 1948–1971,” before carving underneath, “Patrick, 1971.” There really is nothing Bogdan can’t do.
When Father Mackie broke down at this, we sent Ron to hold him, and the two of them stayed there quite some while. Elizabeth, Ibrahim, and I stayed on the bench and took in the view. I like it when men cry. Not too much, but this was just right.
There are always plenty of flowers on Maggie’s grave now. I’ve added some of my own, and I’m sure you can guess where I get them delivered from.
You’ll want to know about the bench too. Well, busy Bogdan took to the concrete with a pneumatic drill, then dug down until he found the tiger tea caddy, which he gave to me.
In Bernard’s final letter there was rather a moving postscript, in which he had asked that his ashes be scattered off the pier in Fairhaven. I have it here.
“Part of me and part of Asima will always be together right here. But she is floating free in holy waters, so let me drift on the tide until one day I find her again,” he had said. Very poetic, Bernard, I’m sure.
Too poetic.
You and I know Bernard well enough to know that this was sentimental bunk. It was a message to me, and it wasn’t exactly the Enigma code. I wonder if Bernard might have thought I was a little thick, but I suppose he wanted it spelled out, just in case. Anyway, I knew Bernard had given me my instructions.
Sudhi and Majid had stayed at an airport hotel after the funeral, because that’s their way, and I had offered to keep Bernard’s ashes safe until they headed down to Fairhaven. When will these two learn?
I had Asima’s ashes in the tea caddy, and I had Bernard’s ashes in a simple wooden urn. I took out my scales. Proper ones, because I don’t trust the electronic ones.
I was very careful tipping out the ashes, because, much as I liked Bernard, I didn’t want him all over my worktop. Within minutes, and with the help of a couple of intermediary bits of Tupperware (I felt a bit guilty about that), the deed was done.
In the tiger tea caddy that they had both wanted to buy the other for Christmas was half Bernard and half Asima. The next day we buried the tea caddy back under the bench where it belonged. We asked Matthew Mackie to bless the site, and I think he was touched to be asked. He did a lovely job.
And in the urn, half Asima and half Bernard. And unbeknownst to them, that’s what Sudhi and Majid took to Fairhaven the following day, so Asima could finally float free, but still in the embrace of the man she loved. We didn’t join them, as we didn’t really want to interfere.
I honestly don’t know what to do with the Tupperware I used. If you’ve used two Tupperware containers to help mix the ashes of a dearfriend and the woman he loved without letting their child know, is it more disrespectful to keep them or to throw them away? This is honestly not the sort of thing I had to worry about before I moved to Coopers Chase. Elizabeth will know what to do.
Talking of Elizabeth, she rang me earlier to tell me that someone had slid a very interesting note under her door. She wouldn’t say what it was, but she said she’d have to pay someone a little visit, and then she could tell me. What a tease.
Well, it is Thursday, so I must be on my way. I worried that after Penny we might stop meeting, or perhaps it would feel different. But that’s not really how things work around here. Life goes on, until it doesn’t. The Thursday Murder Club goes on meeting, mysterious notes are pushed under doors, and murderers fit replacement windows. Long may it continue.
After the meeting I will pop over and see how Gordon Playfair is settling in. Just being a good neighbor, before you ask.
And right on time, there’s my crumble. I will let you know how everythinggoes.
