'Would you mind terribly if I rode in the car with you? Seeing that you are alone and ours is overcrowded with my obnoxious brother.'
I didn't want her in the car with me, but there were people all around us avidly watching the stepmother and daughter's interaction, and I could hardly turn her down. Mercifully, the ride to the cemetery was a short one.
'Of course,' I said.
With a triumphant smile she stepped in front of me and slid into the car. She did not close the door as if she expected me to close it for her and go on over to the other side. I stood bemused, the color rising into my cheeks.
Fortunately, Barry hurried around and closed the door. Looking at me kindly he said, 'Come around to the other side, Mam.'
I cleared my throat and, keenly aware of many eyes watching, followed him around the back of the car to the passenger door on the opposite side. Barry opened the door and I murmured my thanks and sat stiffly on the seat, leaving as much space between her and me.
As soon as Barry turned out of the church's driveway and into the main street, Rosalind ordered Barry to put the partition glass up.
I turned to her, my face devoid of expression.
Her face was equally drained of any emotion. 'Can you tell me why we are all being summoned to Barrington for the reading of the will as if all of this was a particularly bad Hollywood production?'
I frowned at her. 'How else would the solicitor tell us what is in the will?'
She sighed elaborately. 'I realize that you are a bit of a redneck, but it is actually customary for all beneficiaries to simply receive written notification from the solicitor.'
'Right,' I said slowly. She said redneck like it was a bad thing. Still, it was in Hollywood movies that I learned of the custom of reading a will to a gathering of people.
'I'll take it then that you have no idea,' she said coldly.
I put on my sweet face. 'No. Ivan made all the arrangements.'
She narrowed her eyes skeptically and let them slide to my pendant. An ugly look crossed her thin, proud face. 'Do you know the contents of my father's will?'
Suck it up buttercup. He didn't leave it to you. 'Not really. I guess we'll know after the funeral.'
'But most of it's going to you, isn't it?'
I took a deep breath. This needed to be said. 'You want his money, but you never once came to see him in the last six months.'
Her eyes widened with fury. 'How dare you lecture me on my relationship with my father?'
'You hurt him when you never brought your children to see him once in the last two years. He wanted to get to know them.'
'Are you mad? Do you think I would expose my children to that pedophile?'
I gasped in shock. 'How could you say that about your father?'
She looked at my horrified expression with revulsion. 'Why are you pretending to be so shocked? I can say that because it's the truth.'
'It is not,' I said, holding on tightly to my temper.
'How old were you when you came to him?'
'I was seventeen,' I said indignantly. How could she even think that about Robert?
'I rest my case.'
'He … we … didn't do anything, then,' I stammered. I wanted to say so much more, but I couldn't. I had to protect my secret. Otherwise it would have been all for nothing.
'God, you disgust me. Both of you.'
She turned away from me and rapped smartly on the glass. When Barry put it down she ordered him to stop the car. As soon as the car came to a halt she got out. Before closing the door, she had one last parting shot for her stepmother.
'Just in case no one told you. It's not the done thing for the grieving widow to deck herself in her best jewelry to attend her husband's funeral.'
Slamming the car door, she walked to the next car in the procession, the car that she should have been in. I turned my head and watched her enter it and shut the door.
I turned back to face the front. 'Carry on, Barry,' I whispered painfully.
My hands were trembling. I touched my pendant and closed my eyes. Oh, Robert. How could she even think that about you? I hoped wherever he was he had not heard our nasty conversation.
Quietly, Barry put on his stereo system and Nick Cave's poignant and heartfelt song Into My Arms fills the car. No gesture could have been more appropriate at that moment. The unexpected thoughtfulness of that mostly silent man took me by such surprise that I could not even speak. Our eyes met in the rearview mirror, mine full of silent gratitude, and his kind. I smiled and he nodded.
When we arrived at the cemetery, I got out of the car, and Ivan strode up to me. His face was a like a thundercloud.
'Are you all right?' he asked harshly, his eyes sharp.
His breath smoked. I looked up at him, still dazed. The wintry air invaded my lungs and stung my eyes. Did he also believe that Robert was a pedophile? Was that what everyone was thinking? I nodded.
'Why did she get out of the car?' he demanded.
'It was nothing.' I paused. My mind had gone blank, but he was staring at me with demanding eyes. 'Er … she … wanted to know why we are having a reading of the will at the house and not getting written notifications.'
'Why on earth did she ask you that? She knows damn well that I'm the executor of the will.'
'Anyway, why are we having it done this way?'
'Because I wanted it this way.'
I looked at him curiously. 'Why?'
'I have my own reason. Now come on,' he urged, and I fell into step with him. We walked briskly, our heads bowed on a path that glistened like white quartz.
It was strange that my hurt and confused heart should find the presence of that cold, hostile man reassuring and a comfort. I stole a glance at him. His face was closed and distant. He gave the impression that he was not even aware of me.
As soon as we reached the freshly dug grave, the woman he had come with caught up with us and linked her arm through his. There was no mound of exposed soil. Everything was white and completely beautiful. A woman handed out pink rose stems. I held it in my gloved hands. I looked around at the assembled. We were the official mourners, come to pay our last respects.
Our breaths rising in little visible puffs.
During the whole simple ceremony, no one spoke. There was just the slight sound of people shuffling. Then the coffin was put on the wooden lattice that had been erected over the hole in the ground.
Someone sang a song. Her voice was beautiful. It rose up in the cold, still air and seemed to hover over us. I put the pink rose I had been given on the casket and kissed the cold smooth wood before I moved on. I didn't stay to watch anybody else. I was freezing cold. I walked quickly to the car and got into it. The interior was blissfully warm. I took my leather gloves off and rubbed my hands together. They were like ice.
That was it. Robert's funeral.
I had survived it.
Now there was the ordeal of the reading of the will to be endured.
CHAPTER 5
Tawny Maxwell
Now I ain't saying she's a gold digger, but old fool that he was, he pulled up in a Benz and no pre-nup.
The reading of the will had been set for 2.00pm in the music room, a bright rectangular space with many tall windows. It had a splendid German grand piano in it that nobody played. Robert told me that it was bought for Rosalind when she was a child, but she had refused to play it after a few lessons.
Chairs had been brought in and arranged in two rows of semi-circles facing the antique writing table. Robert's solicitor, Nathen Jeremly, sat at it. He lifted his head when I walked in and smiled professionally. James, the butler and Mary, the housekeeper were sitting with their spines upright on the last two chairs at the back. I smiled at them and, going to the first row, sat at the end of the semi-circle. Next to arrive were my two stepdaughters. They looked around haughtily before coming to the front row and sitting in the middle seats. Neither spared me a glance.
Dr. Jensen arrived, nodded at me coldly, and took his seat next to Robert's daughters. After him my stepson sauntered in, a glass of red wine in his hand. He caught my eye and smiled lazily at me. He made his way to the chair next to his sisters. They hissed something at him and he laughed.
The chairs were quickly filled by some of Robert's family. Most of whom I had never met. Last to arrive was Ivan. He did not take a chair but closed the doors and stood just inside them. I saw him nod at the solicitor.
Nathen cleared his throat.
'Well, looks like everyone is here,' he began. 'Here is the last will and testament of Robert James Maxwell.'
He picked up the document and began to read it.
'I, Robert James Maxwell, Barrington House, Bedfordshire, England, make oath and say as follows:
For a long time, the words the solicitor was reading seemed like wind in the trees. A rustle. I heard a gasp of surprise and then a grateful sniff from the housekeeper and I vaguely heard the butler's name mentioned. Of course, he made no discernable show of joy.
One by one the drone of the solicitor's voice referred to the relatives I did not even know existed. I only pulled out of my daze when I saw Dr. Jensen jump up from his chair.