Fergus was frowning. ‘That sounds like a jolly fine idea to me. No pomp and circumstance. We just raise a glass to my dear brother and say a few words to those who knew him. Wouldn’t mind one myself!’
‘Ha,’ Clem sneered, ‘if you were cremated, the whole building would go up. Petrol would burn with less vigour!’
Callum turned to Fergus and said, ‘Have you thought about a sky burial, Uncle Fergus?’
‘Is that where you get dropped out of a plane?’ Martha asked, wrinkling her nose.
Callum shook his head. ‘It’s where you get placed on a mountainside and vultures rip your body apart. Very ecofriendly. I’m thinking that’s what I’d want.’
‘You will not!’ I snapped.
Miles looked at Jeannie with concern. ‘How do you feel about that, Mother?’
‘I’ve tried to put a stop to it! But… it was George’s last and only wish… and Artie thinks I should honour it. But it’s not the law, I don’t have to obey his selfish wishes. We should have a funeral with all of his family and friends there to pay their respects to him. I think he should be buried with Eugene, Tristan and Toots in the family crypt.’
‘Tristan’s going in the crypt?’ Mimi asked, clearly taken aback.
‘Yes, of course. If we’re opening it up for one, we might as well put the others in there,’ Jeannie said so matter-of-factly I was taken aback.
‘What about when we die?’ asked Beebee.
‘Well, we can’tallfit in there,’ Jeannie said.
‘So, who’s going in?’ I asked.
‘Well,’ Jeannie looked around furtively. ‘There’s plinths for the main members…’
‘Ho no,’ said Miles, ‘I’m telling you right here and now you won’t be putting me in that thing. Scatter my ashes wherever is closest to Liv and the kids.’
‘Who’s going in then, Jeannie?’ asked Clem suspiciously.
‘Eugene is in there with his mother and father, and there are five more spaces. For me, George, Toots, Tristan and Miles.’
Fergus’s mouth dropped open. ‘What about us?’ he blustered. ‘And Quentin? Quentin was father’s favourite, surely he should be in there!’
‘Don’t you worry, Uncle Fergus, there’s always space in the compost heap,’ Martha quipped.
Fergus’s jowls quivered between barking a laugh and taking grave offence.
‘Or, better than that,’ Miles continued, ‘Quentin can have my space in with the crypt-keeper and her minions.’ He looked at his mother. ‘You can have Father’s spot, seeing as he doesn’t want to be in there, either.’
‘Heisgoing in there,’ Jeannie ground out. ‘And I’m not a minion.’
Miles raised his brow. ‘I called you the crypt-keeper. Is it selfish of Father to want a “bag and burn” as you call it? Or is it selfish to ignore his last wishes and place him next to a man who made his life hell so that you can pretend you’re minor aristocracy?’
I tried to remain neutral, but a grimace formed across my lips. This was getting spicy, and I was torn between wanting to flee the scene and reaching for a bag of popcorn.
Jeannie didn’t even seem to hear what Miles had just said. ‘I’ve favourited some caskets on the iPad; perhaps you could all take a look at them later and let me know which ones you prefer. Right!’ She clapped her hands together as if this whole conversation had never happened. ‘Let the gingerbread competition begin!’
It took us all a few moments to put the scrambled pieces of our brains back together. One moment Jeannie was geeing us all up for a gingerbread competition, the next moment she was asking us to pick out caskets. Now we were expected to do a 180 and go straight into baking. I had to wonder whether she had truly lost the plot.
‘Why does it feel like we’re about to take part in Sweeney Todd’s Great British Bake Off?’ said Callum under his breath.
I breathed a laugh, feeling like I was trapped on the Waltzer at a Halloween circus and the ride attendants weren’t allowing me to get off. I really hoped she wasn’t going to deny George his wish. I had no love for the man, but thinking about him lying next to his tyrannical father just didn’t sit right with me. Plus, I reallyreallyhated funerals. So a ‘bag and burn’ was a win-win all round for me. It could do with a better name, though… the burning came before the bag surely? Or did they put you in a bag and then burn you?
Slowly, everyone began gathering items to begin decorating, the tone shifting to something more sombre than it had been before all the crypt-and-casket talk. As if trying to rectify the situation, Jeannie cranked up the Christmas music. I selected some piping bags and sweets, my willingness to take part in Jeannie’s crazed version of reality suddenly deflated. I fumbled to get the icing out, carefully snipping a larger hole, which of course just erupted all over my fingers. I caught Miles staring at the bare house. I caught his eye and gave him a smile and mouthed, ‘I love you,’ not knowing what else to say in this moment with everyone around us. He gave me a small but hopeful smile and took a deep breath. I went back to focusing on the roof, trying to create a delicate pattern.
Next to me, Aunt Clem was methodically crushing peppermints under the butt of a knife, gathering them up and letting the sticky pieces fall around the base of her house like red-and-white snow. She flourished her hands like she was creating a piece of high-concept art.
