Later…
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1 – Lynda and Kerr.
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'Well then, Mr Kerr. Or can I call you Matt, now?'
There was no reply.
'Fine. Mr Kerr it is.' Lynda paused, sighing. 'So, here we are. Rotten, rotten day. And I don't care what people say about it just being really bad luck – you know you're at least partially to blame for this. You can't even say I didn't try to warn you, because I did, but would you listen?' She checked herself and softened her tone a little. 'I suppose if it's as inevitable as all that, why fight fate? But that's not the Matt Kerr I know. Still. It's a big crowd you managed to draw… although I'd say you've got just as many people you'd consider enemies here as friends… I was wondering which you'd class me as, when all's been said and done…?'
There was still no reply.
'Who can say,' she continued, 'who can say. And does it really matter? Because I know, I've always known, and so have you, that everything I have – everything – I owe to you. And I think you knew too, deep down, that for me to let you hold me back like that would have betrayed everything you ever taught me. I hope the irony wasn't lost on you. It certainly never was on me.'
There was still no reply. Lynda sighed again.
'And now here we are. We can't try to undermine each other any more, now. And, actually, I'm glad it's over. I wouldn't have wished for it to end like this, but then how else could it have ended? For the record, I'm sorry about the way things panned out between me and you. I'm sorry about the way things panned out between me and a lot of people, to be honest. But then, what would you care about that?'
There was still no reply.
'And quite rightly, too,' Lynda continued. 'Why should you care about anything any more? You're dead.'
She stood for a while longer, looking at the floral tributes outside the crematorium. There weren't many – one from his sister and her family, one from the Gazette, another, more ostentatious one from the National he'd worked at before going local once more. The rest of the congregation had been asked to make a donation to charity, instead. Lynda looked at the tributes for the funeral that had taken place before Kerr's – a massive pile of flowers and cards, all dwarfed by a huge wreath spelling the word 'MUM'. It struck Lynda suddenly that Kerr had died childless, and she was hit with a pang of sadness so strong that she had to turn away.
She decided that she would take a walk past the memorial wall before she joined the others for the wake. She told herself she was looking for Jefford and Cooper, but she knew that she would be passing the other two plaques before she got to that pair of unfortunates. She walked backwards along the timeline of deaths – little shiny plaques with dates terminating in 2007, then 2006, then 2005. She knew where the first plaque was, but didn't stop for it. She passed by it slowly, re-reading the inscription – 'JUSTINE LOUISE WALL - b.1968 d.2005… Beloved Daughter, Devoted Mother.' Lynda tutted reproachfully and carried on walking. She stopped for the next plaque, running her fingers over the words, gently. 'COLIN LEONARD MATHEWS. 1972 – 2002. He Found Peace.'
Lynda sighed.
'Somebody really aught to do something about that,' she told herself. She carried on walking.