When the chapel was finally full, the last stragglers coming in from the little graveyard, or hopping over the dry stone wall from where they’d walked across the moors, Aleksey was amazed by how many people had come to say farewell to Enid Toogood. A few of her old friends, the more hale and hearty ones, had travelled down from the Highlands. All the family was there of course, even Sarah and Daniel, who had immediately cut short their honeymoon and returned to Devon, this gesture as much, Aleksey suspected, for Miles, as it was for the woman now resting in her coffin alongside them.
The boy sat alongside him now, not stony-faced, not distraught. He was unreadable. Aleksey could not help him with the complex skein of emotions that Miles might be experiencing for the first time. He had not really faced such a difficult unravelling until he’d been decades older than Miles Toogood, and it had been for a man, and so, he reasoned, was not the same. Grief, relief, guilt over his own mother’s death had been subsumed very quickly by the tsunami of new emotions that had overwhelmed his raw ten-year-old heart that first night in Russia.
Sarah’s choice of decoration for her wedding seemed painfully ironic now in this place of death: winter boughs, holly, white flowers. Nothing had needed to be changed, and the place was sombre, stark, bleached of colour. Even the stained glass was muted, the day overcast and cold.
They sang hymns, some of Enid’s favourites, and most of the family who’d known her best struggled to get through the words of Abide With Me. Where was death’s sting indeed? In the hearts of those left behind, Aleksey reckoned. He pressed his arm to Miles, who was standing but not singing, more studying these familiar words, as though if he worked on them long enough, then, as with his mathematical problems, they would reveal their meaning to him.
Molly was in Ben’s arms. Only four, she understood the service not at all and was entirely unable to keep in her mind that Miles’s grandmother was not sitting waiting for a visit from her, and was therefore unable to comprehend the significance of the box on the trestle. Ben had not wanted her to have any of it explained more, and the family had acquiesced to his wishes. She was there, it was sad, and she had to be kind to her brother—that is all Ben had wanted for her. In other circumstances, her arrival back from St Albans would have been highly amusing. Phillipa had brought her. Molly had been at the palace when Ben had called Jennifer, and so Phillipa had driven Molly from London herself in an old Land Rover, this vehicle trailed by Molly’s bodyguards and behind them the armed royal protection unit of the Met, which always accompanied the monarch. Like a stately procession, they had navigated the drive along the ridgeline, Molly gleeful and excited to be home and wanting to show off her new bicycle—her Christmas gift, which had been the excuse for the afternoon tea. On being told she had to be especially kind to Miles, she’d offered to let him have a go on it, a gesture which, as the bike was pink, had purple streamers on the handlebars, a wicker basket in the front for Jenna, and was really only big enough for a four-year-old girl, hadn’t landed as well as she’d meant it to.
Once outside the chapel, they gathered around the place Miles had chosen for his grandmother to now reside. Aleksey had expected he would have wanted her to return to her native land, her home in the Highlands, but the boy had been adamant. Next to Annie Device. NowGrannycould benefit from the care she’d once given to the little graveyard. A single bird table was standing alongside the grave. Miles and Squeezy had brought it over that morning from the patio. Wherever she was, it was just possible she might still be able to get pleasure out of watching this familiar display of darting life. Miles had not shared his views on this one way or the other, but he’d helped carry the feeder when Michael Heathcote had suggested the plan to him.
Ben had not brought Molly to this part of the service but had walked her away to the cottage. It was hard enough for the adults present to cope with the concept of being put into the cold, dark ground forever, let alone a four-year-old.
As they watched the coffin being lowered into the grave, a bagpiper began to play on the slope of the tor. It was almost incongruous in Devon, but somehow the bleak grandeur of the moors on this bitterly cold January day made it a perfect accompaniment for the mournful service. He was from the Regiment. Ben had made a phone call, and such favours were always granted to those in the family. As the notes ofFlowers of the Forestdrifted across the dry stone wall, people began to move away towards the cottage, where food and drinks had been laid out. Aleksey had bought a bottle of sherry and placed it beside Enid’s chair.
He stayed on with Miles beside the grave as everyone else drifted away but was more than glad when the moron turned suddenly and flung his arm around the boy’s neck and put him in a headlock only a little less savage than the ones his boyfriend frequently endured. ‘Bet I can eat more shortbread than you.’
Miles pursed his lips. ‘Granny used to make the best shortbread in the world.’
‘Yeah, I know. That’s why we need to go eat Diesel’s. Someone’s got to, and I’m volunteering you.’ With a wan smile, Miles let himself be led away. It wasn’t often Aleksey felt like kissing the annoying one (once or twice it had crossed his mind in idle moments), but he did now.
He was staring down at the mound of earth when he sensed a presence at his side, and Phillipa tucked her arm through his.
‘Bloody freezing today. I’ve got to go. Look, what are you doing this week?’ Not really listening, he just shrugged. ‘Good, that’s what I expected. Can you pop over to Barton? I’ll be there for a few days.’
‘Why? What’s wrong?’
‘I need to ask a favour—don’t put that face on.’
‘I’m not putting any face on. Ask now.’
‘No, you’ve got enough on your plate today. Beastly things, funerals. Well, death, I suppose. Although a funeral without one first would be a bit bloody silly.’
‘I had one. It was unexpectedly entertaining.’
‘Was that before or after you conned my family into letting you marry me?’
‘Ack, you wouldn’t be where you are today without me—imagine if you’d actually liked your first husband.’
She seemed to find this highly amusing, and after extracting his promise to visit, she departed as un-regally as she’d arrived. He blew out his cheeks and went to watch his bottle of sherry sitting neglected by an empty chair in front of a patio full of birdfeeders which, he suspected, would now no longer give anyone anything other than sad memories.
* * *
The next day Enid’s will was read.
There wasn’t much unexpected—some savings and the bungalow left to Miles in trust—and Miles left to him. That bequest had been a bit of a surprise, he had to admit. He’d not been listening as he’d sat next to Ben in the lawyer’s office in Exeter but staring out at the canal, remembering. ‘—Mr Aleksey Rider-Mikkelsen.’ Once more drawn into a conversation only by the rare sound of his name actually being spoken by anyone, he raised his eyebrows questioningly, and the lawyer reiterated, ‘Mrs Toogood’s wishes. She has named you guardian of her grandson: Miles. Is this a surprise to you, Mr Rider-Mikkelsen? If it is then I’m a little concerned by that, as she states quite unequivocally that it was discussed many times, and she has left you...one moment, let me find it…here it is… Oh, that’s odd. Ten pounds. She says you agreed to do it for ten pounds, and she knows you’ll do a splendid job. I didn’t personally draw this up, but—’
Aleksey closed his eyes briefly. ‘—no, I’m sorry. I had forgot. I did agree, of course. Miles will stay will me.’
And so it was settled. He felt a weight lift off his shoulders. As he’d once pointed out to a little seven-year-old boy on the way to Iceland—travelling alone with strange men entirely unrelated to you was not advisable. So much more had he feared someone would apply this truism to the boy’s current living arrangements. After all, he conceded that hewasstill a little strange. But then, so was Miles, which is why they’d always got along so well together.
It became even easier and more settled when he and Ben returned home to break the news. Mrs Sarah Kennedy had installed herself in Enid’s cottage with Miles. While she was needed, she said. Her honeymoon could wait, she said. Her new life and house in Tavistock could wait, she said. Enid had been the mainstay of Sarah’s female cabal in the woods; her absence was palpable; Sarah was determined to try and fill the gap. When Aleksey told Miles about the guardianship, he saw a noticeable release of some of the strain the boy held around him like a shield. Everything had changed and could never be the same, but also nothing would change and he was safe. Emilia had once accused him of attempting to give her the life he had not been given, and, of course, she’d been right. Now he would do the same for this boy.
It was late by the time he and Ben could be alone in the glass house with just the dogs, a fire and their thoughts. They were both exhausted. Aleksey could see the stress etched on Ben’s face and knew he was partially responsible for this. Ben worried about things that upsethim. He put his arm over Ben’s shoulder and shifted closer, leaning into him.
‘I’m okay, Ben. And Miles will adapt. We none of us have any choice in these things.’
‘We should have been here—not running around having fun.’
