‘Hi,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘I’m Kirstie and I’ll be looking after you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Fran, glad that this attractive young woman didn’t fit the funeral director stereotype.
‘I have your – what was she – great-aunt?’
‘Kind of. I was only a very distant cousin but I was living – am living – on her farm and looking after things.’
‘Well, Amy was a wonderful woman,’ Kirstie said.
‘She was, but how do you know that?’ said Issi.
‘She left such detailed instructions you won’t have to make a single decision – or hardly any. That’s why I think she’s wonderful,’ said Kirstie.
Fran sighed. ‘I gathered from the home that we can’t have a wicker coffin, horses draped in black crêpe and all that.’
‘People lining the street, hats off in respectful silence,’ added Issi.
‘Us following behind, wearing black veils …’
‘Ilike your thinking,’ said Kirstie. ‘Sadly, your aunt had other ideas. She’s chosen the church, the hymns, the flowers – just one wreath, roses and lilies.’ She paused. ‘Your option would have been very expensive and your aunt has prepaid.’
‘Of course she had. It was very like her,’ said Fran, thinking of the care home fees paid for in advance.
‘As I said, very thoughtful. However …’
‘What?’ asked Issi. ‘A problem?’
‘We might not have time for all the hymns.’
‘How many has she chosen?’ asked Fran.
‘Eight. I think she just went for her favourites. You should just choose three you think people will know,’ said Kirstie. ‘Or hire a choir.’
‘I think we’ll just choose hymns from the list,’ said Fran.
‘Then there’s the music leaving the church—’
‘Please don’t say it’s “I’ve Got a Brand New Combine Harvester”,’ said Fran.
Kirstie laughed. ‘No, no, it’s Widor’s ‘Toccata’. She had it at her wedding, apparently.’
Suddenly Fran was in bits. She remembered the wedding photo of Amy and her husband in a silver frame at the farm. Amy was wearing a long dress and her husband, tall and handsome by her side, wore a suit. There were a lot of little bridesmaids with large wreaths of flowers on their heads and about three grown-up ones, also with elaborate headdresses.
Whatwere the young couple feeling then? she wondered. They’d have been excited, a bit nervous, tired maybe, after days of preparation. But somewhere in their thoughts would have been babies, children who would take over the farm in due course. Not her own widowhood so young, no children, and a bit of a mess when it came to passing on the farm.
Issi looked at her friend, and realised she needed help. ‘Quick trip to the pub, I think,’ she said briskly. She glanced at her watch. ‘The solicitor’s not expecting us for an hour. We’ve got time.’
ChapterTwenty-Four
Issi parked in the pub car park. ‘Will Roy be in here, do you think?’
Fran shrugged. ‘I don’t know.
‘It would be more his thing than helping with the care home or the undertakers,’ said Issi. ‘Come on, let’s get you a gin.’
Fran put her hand on Issi’s arm. ‘It’s so kind of you to come with me. But I’m not sure I really want a drink just now.’
‘You could just have a coffee or something?’ suggested Issi.
