‘No one will ever forget Nuno,’ he began. ‘He was one of life’s originals, a rare ray of light that shone upon us all. We shall miss that light greatly. But now he shines with God. Let us thank God for the life of our dear friend Nuno, who gave each one of us so much.’
Ingrid began to sniff and her shoulders quivered in an effort to control herself. Sam continued to stare at the coffin as if in a trance. Federica turned around and quietly greeted her family who all stared at her as if she were an alien being. How she had changed!
‘I know she’s unhappy,’ Polly whispered to her husband. Jake sighed and nodded. ‘She’s put on weight. She’s not a strongly built girl. It’s unhappiness that’s done it,’ she added, mouthing the same to Helena who sat on Jake’s other side. Toby took Federica’s hand and she suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of loss. Not just of Nuno but of everyone. She had lost Polperro in the
last few years and now she was back she wanted so much to hold onto it. But she knew she couldn’t. Torquil wanted her back tomorrow.
Sam walked gravely up to the pulpit to give the address. He had left his cuffs undone and they flapped about his wrists like white doves. Federica watched him. He had lost a lot of hair since she had last seen him. It was now clearly receding at the front and thinning on top. He looked up with a grey face and surveyed the congregation. He didn’t need notes because he hadn’t prepared what he was going to say. He removed his glasses, took a deep breath as if collecting his emotions and then began in a confident, articulate voice.
‘Nuno was my best and most beloved friend,’ he began. ‘He taught me everything I know and I owe him for everything that I have become.’ Then his grey eyes rested on Federica as he quoted from The Prophet. “‘And let your best be for your friend,”’ he said in a slow, almost theatrical voice. “‘If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also. For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill? Seek him always with hours to live. For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.’”
Federica didn’t lower her eyes but looked steadily into his. She felt suffocated by a wave of pity and regret. She recalled with nostalgia the moments
they had shared in the past. They had been special moments of great tenderness. Then, as she tried to hold onto them they dissolved before her like mist, leaving only the desolation of the present and Sam’s grief-stricken face illuminated by the light of God.
‘I always sought Nuno with hours to live,’ he continued bravely. ‘He filled my need for knowledge and my need for wisdom. He also filled my need to understand myself better and taught me not to desire to be understood or admired by others. He was never understood by others and that gave him great freedom, because he was always himself. I shall miss his tedious quoting, his pedantry, his faux Italian accent and his dry, irreverent humour. But most of all I shall miss his wisdom, because without it I am lost. All I have now are the words he taught me in the past, which I shall replay in my memory in my effort to live better.’
Federica listened to his words as they spilled out, without direction, without constraint but from the heart. He spoke at length, holding the sides of the pulpit with his hands, either for effect or for support. He only lifted his eyes from Federica’s to gaze down at the coffin as if he were talking to Nuno himself.
When he finished, no one moved or made a sound. All that could be heard
was Sam’s soft footsteps as he walked slowly back to his seat.
Nuno’s coffin was lowered into the ground in the small graveyard outside the church. The family and close friends stood around in the cold and watched his final journey home. Back into the earth where it had all begun. ‘How did he die?’ Federica whispered to Julian, who stood solemnly beside her.
‘Apparently he knew he was going to go,’ he replied, leaning down and speaking quietly into her ear. ‘It was Tuesday afternoon and he kissed Ingrid goodbye, then Inigo and went into his study and passed away in his leather chair reading Balzac.’ Federica raised her eyebrows. ‘Ingrid and Inigo just thought he was going off for a siesta, they didn’t realize he really meant “adieu”.’
‘Unpredictable to the last,’ she replied, catching Sam’s hollow eyes blinking sadly behind his glasses. He watched her but didn’t see her. ‘Sam’s taking it very badly,’ she added, smiling at him with sympathy.
But his vision had clouded with grief. He couldn’t see anything. Then he turned and walked to the waiting cars with his family and everyone made their way back to Pickthistle Manor.