I’ve left Elena on duty at Good Vibes and brought two of the nurses who cared for Stephanie, but Mum and Dad are here too, along with Angus and Evelyn, Stacey, and plenty of Honor’s other glossy friends. I’ve even spotted an actual Oscar-winning actor, Ellery Hart, chatting to Astrid Carmichael. Holy shit.
But even Ellery, in all her youthful, blonde-haired glory, can’t hold a torch to Honor. I clock her as soon as we arrive. She’s hard to miss, in a stunning golden dress that’s all full-skirted and sparkly (the invitation saidDress Code: Strictly Cocktail Wear, at Stephanie’s insistence!), and I’m conscious of her location in the room every painful second I’m there.
The past week-and-a-half since Stephanie passed has been brutal. Bleak. It was like the sun went out when Honor left, and every time I walk in the front door of Good Vibes, I’m reminded that there’s no chance of her showing up and brightening my day.
The guillotine has dropped on any semblance of a relationship with her, and the cold turkey is killing me. Even though I’ve upped my running routine. Even though I’m working all hours, holding funding meetings and organising an international conference on the future of palliative care and doing as much clinical work as I can. I’m still burning up with how much I miss her, and seeing her today is heavenly torture.
Eventually, she makes her way around to our little gaggle. She’s the consummate hostess, serene and smiling, seemingly floating through the crowd of well-wishers with ease and grace, although it must be emotionally draining to be on the receiving end of countless other people’s grief and memories and condolences.
She doesn’t let her game-face slip until she reaches us. She hugs the nurses and thanks them for coming, and then she’s there, in front of me, and we grin at each other despite ourselves. I go to kiss her, but she pulls me in for a hug. ‘I’m so pleased to see you,’ she whispers in my ear. ‘Thank you for coming.’
I give myself a second to lean into the deliciousness of the hug—her warmth and her scent and the satiny skin of her upper back under my hand—before I release her and straighten my suit jacket up. Jackson’s around here somewhere—I saw him from a distance earlier—and I don’t want to be guilty of any impropriety here, at her mother’s memorial.
‘I have to go make my speech now,’ she says under her breath, ‘but I wanted you to know how happy I am that you’re here. Not just for Mum, but for me. And I really, really want to chat to you later, so don’t think about pulling a stunt like slipping away when I’m looking the other way. Okay?’
She waggles her finger at me. She’s got my number; I’m planning on doing precisely that after an acceptable chunk of time has passed. I’ve been counting down the days till I’d see her again, but now I’m here, it hurts too much. The wound is raw again.
But this isn’t about me. Tonight is Honor’s night, so whatever she needs from me, I’ll give gladly.
HONOR
Ally readsMary Oliver’s Wild Geese so beautifully that I see tissues being fished surreptitiously out of pockets and handbags around the room from where I stand behind her. And then it’s my turn on the little stage The Montague’s team has erected. Before I begin, I take a moment to look around this beautiful space.
Miles has surpassed himself. Millions of reflected candle flames dance in the mirrored panels around the room, and enormous bunches of white gardenias and anemones and roses and ranunculus and tulips spill from silver julep cups and punch bowls. It’s stunning, it’s elegant, and it’s Mum. She’d adore this, just as she’d adore the lavish compliments everyone I’ve spoken to has paid her.
Jackson is standing inconspicuously in an alcove near thefront of the room. He’s been amazing, despite the bombshell I dropped on him last night. But it’s not him I seek out as my eyes scan the room. It’s Noah, and he’s standing right where I left him. When my eyes meet his and he smiles and nods encouragingly, I know I’m in good hands.
‘Thank you for coming,’ I begin. ‘Mum production-managed every part of this evening, except for the drinks, where Ally and I vetoed her because we felt having a roomful of mourners on straight martinis would be indecorous. She did, however, insist that my eulogy be revoltingly fawning, so what this speech lacks in accuracy, it makes up in flattery.’
I get my first laugh, and I’m away. I cover Mum’s professional successes, parenting abilities and personality quirks with many more laughs along the way. Years of living in the full glare of the media spotlight have made me an old hand at public speaking, but this speech is different. It’s the final moment where I will really get a chance to pay homage to Mum’s full and wonderful life, and I want to make it count.
I make sure to give Noah and his team a heartfelt thank you for making the process of Mum’s death as meaningful and stress-free as possible.
‘We made a choice to entrust the Good Vibes team with one of the most important and potentially traumatic events of our lives,’ I tell the room, ‘and they rewarded us for that choice a hundredfold. They told us that death could be a profoundly beautiful experience, and they were right. Ally and I will never forget how peaceful Mum was in her final hours, and for that, we can never thank them enough.
‘The other reason that Mum was able to cross in such a peaceful manner was because she left this world with no regrets, except perhaps for the premature nature of her passing. She married the love of her life, she loved her career and her children, and, God knows, she lived life vibrantly. She was still demanding martinis and manicures even after she’dwalked through the door of the Good Vibes Hospice for the last time.’
A laugh.
‘She reminded me of something very important right before she died.’ I choke up here, pressure welling up in my jaw and above my cheekbones, and I pause for a second to collect myself before I continue. I find Noah in the crowd. I don’t let go of that sight; I don’t need my notes for this.
‘She told me none of us is the Queen. Thank God. None of us has such a huge burden of duty that we must sacrifice our happiness for the greater good. And it follows that we don’t need anyone else’s permission to be happy. Really, the only person who can give us permission to be happy is us. Whether that happiness looks like a career change, or a lifestyle change, or choosing the life companion you want holding your hand as you die, the only person who can bestow that act of kindness on you is you yourself.’
I’m looking straight at Noah. Jackson and the rest of the crowd may as well not exist.
‘And I’ll be forever grateful for that advice. Thank you.’
CHAPTER 38
Honor
Girlfriends are everything. They understand instinctively when you need a hug, or a distraction, or silence, or words. They rally around without needing to be asked. And that’s what my friends do for me after my eulogy. They show up in a stylish swarm and spirit me away to an empty table in a quiet corner of the room, while Ted comforts Ally and Jackson does the duty circuit, charming the pants off everyone. I just hope he stays the hell away from Noah.
Stacey has swiped two bottles of champagne from the bar, and Evelyn sets to work filling everyone up. Astrid has brought Ellery over, too: she’s the dearest girl, and Astrid and I have been acting as honorary aunts to her for the past five years, since her breakout success in the movie industry.
‘Jeez, Honor, that was so freaking beautiful,’ Stacey says. ‘You have such a way with words, girl.’
‘Amen to that.’ Astrid lifts her glass.
