Part IVCome to dust
Lara pushed the speed limit as she drove her Aston Martin through central London. After a few minutes of circling around she found a suitably located parking square near her destination, the Westminster Abbey. She wanted to be early, to get in before the crowd. Besides, she wanted to speak to Aunt Gillian before the hassle began.
They'd spoken on the phone several times after she'd returned from Jordan. They'd kept strictly to business – the funeral arrangements. Gillian had inquired how Lara was feeling but she'd dismissed the question brusquely by changing the subject. In her own opinion Lara had been acting on autopilot since she'd touched her native soil, training and working, occupying herself while waiting for the whole ordeal to be over.
She walked through the gates onto the immaculate lawn before the church doors. She wore a simple, long, black skirt with a matching black blazer, low black heels and a wide-brimmed black hat. She detested wearing black for it signaled loving mourning, but had not come up with a more suitable colour. She also wore her sunglasses, amused at her own feeble attempt at masquerading herself. They'd all recognize her no matter what she wore. They would all know who she was.
In the churchyard stood a minister who walked up to Lara. "Welcome. Are you here for the service of Lord Henshingly Croft?" he inquired in a pleasant tone.
Lara simply nodded.
"Then may I offer my condolences on this sad day. Are you a close relative?"
Lara bit her lip. "Relative, yes." Close – can't really say that. "I would like to speak to Gillian Havers, if she has arrived."
The minister nodded. "Please, follow me."
He lead her through the doors into the church.
Candles burned and the organ player was practicing his piece – Lara recognized it to be a passage from Fauré's requiem. She herself would not have chosen the particular piece.
On a dais in the middle of the vast main hall stood a sizeable reddish wooden coffin. On the exact same spot Lara hazily recalled her Mother's casket to have stood when she was a little girl. She'd died of cancer. The funeral had been quite a public event. Her mother had engaged in many charity projects and had plenty of friends. Many of Lara's father's business associates and colleagues from the parliament had also attended. Many of them would without doubt attend this service as well.
Lara swallowed and quickened her pace to keep up with the minister.
They found Gillian in the vestry, cutting off the ends of a large bouquet of red roses.
Lara suddenly realized she had not ordered any flowers. Another disaster to add to her list. Another thing to regret.
Gillian left the flowers on the table when she noticed Lara. She gave her a kiss on the cheek, and gently pulled off Lara's sunglasses. "You can't wear those," she gently fussed.
Lara grabbed them back, annoyed. "I can do what I bloody want." She did not put the glasses back on, though.
The priest shot her an unapproving glance and left them.
"Could you help me with these?" Gillian passed her a pair of scissors and they set to work on some lilies. "Could you also please take care that everyone finds a setting?"
Playing valet sounded appalling. "I'm trying to be inconspicuous here. Maybe I should just stay out of the service and just come to the will reading."
Gillian shot her a stern glance. Sometimes her niece could just be stubborn beyond words. "You drove yourself here and that's saying something. Alright, you don't have to see to the seating, but you're not hiding behind a column either. You're sitting in the front with me."
Lara opened her mouth to argue but realized it would've been in vain. She heard voices from the grand church hall – the first wave of guests had arrived.
They finished cutting the flowers for Gillian's arrangement – a beautiful combination of dark red roses, white lilies and ivy.
Lara was glad her Aunt had not inquired about her nonexistant flowers.
Gillian left for the entrance hall to greet some friends and Lara decided to linger behind in the vestry. She walked around, gazed out of the window, feeling like a fugitive. She'd have to go out sooner or later.
She straightened her hat, took a quick peek from the doorway into the church, and when she saw Gillian had taken her designated seat beside the coffin Lara quickly walked to the area to join her.
A few heads turned at the sight of her and she could hear muttered words which turned into a negative-toned conversation when she was almost out of hearing range.
She sat down beside Gillian, staring at the coffin.
Suddenly she turned to her Aunt. "I want to see him," she said.
Gillian looked at her, puzzled. "You could have contacted the undertakers and asked to see him in their premises. We can't open the casket now, it's—"
Lara stood up. It was five minutes before the service would begin. Most of the mourners had already arrived, and a few gazes were locked onto Lara. Even more did so when she raised her voice. "I want to see him!"
Gillian grabbed her arm and pulled her back down onto her seat. "Lara, sit down. If you want to see him it will have to happen after the service."
Lara turned in her seat to gaze around. To her it seemed everyone was looking at her. Her eyes narrowed. What right did they have to stare at her?
Then she turned to face the casket again. It was almost invisible beneath a sea of flowers. Expensive orchid arrangements competed with more mundane bouquets.
The church was full up to the Poets' corner. One couldn't see much from there, but still the area was as packed as the rest of the church.
It made Lara wonder how such a man as her Father could have gathered such a crowd. When she herself died the service could be held in her living room and the small group of guests could still fit in fine.
But which did she want? A handful of genuine friends or a crowd of her Father's business associates who came to honour her even if they had no idea who she was?
The music began. Lara sat silently, gently squeezing the edges of her seat. She straightened her skirt, adjusted her hat, rearranged her hair, anything to keep her occupied.
She listened to the short service without really hearing the words.
At one point she stifled a laugh. The whole situation suddenly seemed so weird – a man stuck inside a box so that the crowd could sing depressing hymns. He was dead and long gone.
Lara closed her eyes.
She did not open them until Gillian gently nudged her. Lara could hear silent crying from somewhere nearby, probably some sensitive distant relative fallen for hysterics.
"It's time," Gillian whispered, and indicated that they should approach the casket.
Lara felt like running. She couldn't do this. "I'm not going," she whispered quickly back.
I'm going mad, she thought. Suddenly she was certain that if she approached the coffin it would move. It would move because she wasn't supposed to be there, and it would move so that everyone would realize she was in the wrong place and then they'd tell her to leave.
Gillian grabbed her arm again. "Lara, come on."
Lara faced her stare and said slightly more loudly, "I'm not going."
She'd thought she was only whispering slightly louder than before, but it came out in an almost yelling volume. If every person in the church had not yet been staring at her, now they were.
Gillian let go of her arm, grabbed her flowers and headed towards the altar.
Lara pulled her hat downwards on her head as though it could spare her from accusing stares.