The service is mercifully short. The coffin is brought in by the undertaker’s men, polished pine with one wreath of red roses on the top. Then the woman minister, who introduces herself ‘The Rev. Jenny Piper’, makes some vague remarks about celebrating Peggy’s life. Next there’s a reading, the son declaring that ‘the greatest of these is love’ in a voice that is almost entirely devoid of feeling, and a few short remarks from the Rev. Jenny about the deceased. Harbinder listens to these with interest. She learns that Peggy Smith was born in Cromer, on the Norfolk coast. She went to boarding school and the entire school was evacuated to Dorset during the war. After school Peggy passed the civil service exam and moved to London where she met her husband Peter Smith, who had been in the navy. ‘Domestic bliss followed,’ says Jenny, reading from the script, which Harbinder takes to mean that Peggy had to give up work. The couple had one son, Nigel, and lived in West London until Peter’s death in 1992. Peggy then moved south, first to Brighton and then to Shoreham. Peggy loved the sea and was, until recent years, a keen swimmer. She did The Times crossword every day and was a voracious reader. She ‘didn’t suffer fools gladly’ (dutiful laugh) but had a few very good friends, including, in her last years, her neighbour Edwin. At this the man in glasses pats Pink Bow Tie on the shoulder. Jenny also thanks Patricia Creeve and everyone at the agency for looking after Peggy so well. Harbinder feels that Natalka should have got a namecheck but maybe Patricia is the boss. Then there’s the Lord’s Prayer and a few remarks addressed exclusively to God and Jenny announces that the family is inviting everyone back to Peggy’s apartment in Seaview Court to ‘raise a glass to her’. Finally, Jenny presses the button, the lilac curtains close and classical music fills the room. Harbinder doesn’t know anything about opera but the programme says the aria is called ‘E lucevan le stelle’ and it certainly seems to elevate the service to something grander and more tragic.
When the music dies away, Harbinder finds herself walking down the aisle next to Natalka.
‘Hallo,’ says Natalka. ‘It was good of you to come.’
‘I wanted to,’ says Harbinder.
‘We must speak privately,’ says Natalka. ‘I have news.’ Perhaps it’s the accent but everything Natalka says sounds as though it comes from a spy film.
Seaview Court is a short drive from the crematorium but finding a parking place is another matter. All the streets are called things like Waterside, Riverside and Ropetackle and they are all residents’ parking only. Eventually, Harbinder finds a space on a bumpy piece of road under some trees and makes her way to the flats. They are quite attractive, modern with glass balconies on the sea-facing side and surrounded by an attempt at landscaped gardens, buffeted by the sea winds which have bent all the shrubs into a crouching position. Harbinder presses the intercom but there’s no answer. Surely she’s not that late? Has everyone gone home already? She’s just about to give up when the door opens and someone comes out. It’s the well-dressed man from church. Close up, his suit looks even more expensive and he’s wearing black, highly polished shoes.
‘Going in?’ he asks.
‘Yes. I had trouble finding somewhere to park.’
‘Nightmare,’ says the man, ‘not as bad as Brighton though.’
That seems to exhaust the subject. The man holds the door open as Harbinder goes past, then he turns to leave. She thanks him and starts up the stairs.
The door to Peggy’s apartment is open. There seems to be quite a party roar coming from inside but, when Harbinder enters the sitting room, she sees that there are only about eight people in there. It’s just that it’s a small space. Nice, though. Harbinder’s parents’ house suffers from the fact that neither of them ever throw anything away so, with the notable exception of Harbinder’s bedroom, it is full of tiny tables, cabinets containing china and myriad pictures of forgotten Indian relatives. Peggy’s taste is cleaner and less sentimental: wood floors, a few framed pictures and lots of bookshelves. All empty now.
Harbinder sees the son standing on his own with his hands behind his back, a stag at bay window. His wife is being much more sociable, chatting with the Rev. Jenny and two women who look like carers. Natalka is in a huddle with Glasses Man and Bow Tie Man. Harbinder is about to join them when Daughter-in-Law spots her and hurries over.
‘Welcome! How nice of you to come. I’m Sally. Nigel’s wife.’
‘I’m Harbinder Kaur. I was a friend of Peggy’s.’
Harbinder is aware that she’s an unlikely friend for a ninety-year-old white woman. Out of habit, she clocks the fact that she is the only person of colour at the funeral. She has prepared a story about her mum living at Seaview Court but this is easy to disprove unless she kills off the poor old dear, which seems unnecessarily cruel.
But Sally does not ask. ‘Peggy had lots of friends,’ she says, head on one side. Harbinder takes this to mean ‘even black people’.
‘She was a lovely person,’ Harbinder says.
‘Wasn’t she?’ Sally almost touches her arm then seems to think better of it. ‘Let me introduce you to Patricia and Maria. Patricia runs Care4You and Maria was one of Peggy’s regular carers. Jenny you know from the service.’
Harbinder doesn’t feel that she knows Jenny at all; she also wonders if the cleric expected some sort of title before her name. She’s looking a bit steely. Patricia is a tall, rangy woman who looks as if she’d be more at home in a tracksuit than a black dress. Maria is small and pretty. Her accent sounds Eastern European – maybe she’s Ukrainian, like Natalka. Harbinder is aware that Natalka is watching them from the other side of the room.
‘Dex Challoner was here,’ says Sally. ‘The writer, you know. So nice of him to come.’
‘I’ve read all his books,’ says Jenny. ‘I love a good murder.’
‘Was he the man in the sharp suit?’ says Harbinder. ‘I saw him as I was coming in.’
‘Yes,’ says Sally. ‘Such a charmer.’
‘His mother used to live at Seaview,’ says Patricia. ‘She was one of our clients.’
‘I looked after her,’ says Maria. ‘She was a character.’
Harbinder is mildly interested that Dex Challoner seems to have used her alibi, of having a mother living at Seaview Court. Of course, it’s the truth in his case.
‘Can I offer you anything, Harbinder?’ says Sally. ‘Tea? Coffee?’
Harbinder notes that there are opened bottles of wine on a side table – and Jenny is holding a brimming glass – but Sally has obviously made the cultural assumption that she is teetotal. On the other hand, she did get her name right.
‘I’m fine,’ she says. ‘Just wanted to pay my respects.’