Allen was moving tentatively towards the living room, the one open door off the hallway. Id drawn the line at cleaning the whole house. Come on through, I said, ushering him in and pointing him at the sofa Alexis had just vacated. He sat down, carefully hitching up his trousers at the knees. In the light, the charcoal grey suit looked more like Jasper Conran than Marks and Spencer; ripping off widows was clearly a profitable business.
Thanks for agreeing to see me, Mrs Barclay, Allen said, concern dripping from his warm voice. He was clean cut and clean shaven, with a disturbing resemblance to John Cusack at his most disarming. Was your husbands death very sudden? he asked, his eyebrows wrinkling in concern.
Car accident, I said, gulping back a sob. Hard work, acting. Almost convinces you Kevin Costner earns every dollar of the millions he gets for a movie.
Tragic, he intoned. To lose him in his prime. Tragic. Much more of this and I wasnt going to be acting. I was going to be weeping for real. And not from sorrow.
Tragic, he intoned. To lose him in his prime. Tragic. Much more of this and I wasnt going to be acting. I was going to be weeping for real. And not from sorrow.
I made a point of looking at his business card again. I dont understand, Mr Allen. What is it youre here about?
My company is in the business of providing high quality memorials for loved ones who pass away. The quality element is especially important for someone like yourself, losing a loved one so young. Youll want to be certain that whatever you choose to remember him by will more than stand the test of time. His solemn smile was close to passing the sincerity test. If I really was a grief-stricken widow, Id have been half in love with him by now.
But the undertaker said hed get that all sorted out for me, I said, going for the sensible-but-confused line.
Traditionally, we have relied on funeral directors to refer people on to us, but weve found that this doesnt really lead to a satisfactory conclusion, Allen said confidentially. When youre making the arrangements for a funeral, there are so many different matters to consider. Its hard under those circumstances to give a memorial the undivided attention it deserves.
I nodded. I know what you mean, I said wearily. It all starts to blur into one after a while.
And thats exactly why we decided that a radical rethink was needed. A memorial is something that lasts, and its important for those of us left behind that it symbolizes the love and respect we have for the person we have lost. We at Greenhalgh and Edwards feel that the crucial issue here is that you make the decision about how to commemorate your dear husband in the peace of your own home, uncluttered by thoughts of the various elements that will make up the funeral.
I see, I said. It sounds sensible, I suppose.
We think so. Tell me, Mrs Barclay, have you opted for interment or cremation?
Not cremation, I said very firmly. A proper burial, thats what Richard would have wanted. But only after he was actually dead, I added mentally.
He snapped open the locks on the slim black briefcase hed placed next to him on the sofa. An excellent choice, if I may say so, Mrs Barclay. Its important to have a place where you can mourn properly, a focus for the communication Im sure youll feel between yourself and Mr Barclay for a long time to come. Now, because were still in the trial period of this new way of communicating with our customers, we are able to offer our high quality memorials at a significant discount of twenty per cent less than the prices quoted on our behalf by funeral directors. So that means you get much better value for your money; a memorial that previously might have seemed out of your price range suddenly becomes affordable. Because, of course, we all want the very best for our loved ones, he added, his voice oozing sympathy.
I bit back the overwhelming desire to rip his testicles off and have them nickel-plated as a memorial to his crass opportunism and nodded weakly. I suppose, I said.
I wonder if I might take this opportunity to show you our range? The briefcase was as open as the expression on his face. How could I refuse?
I dont know
Theres absolutely no obligation, though obviously it would be in your best interests to go down the road that offers you the best value for money. He was on his feet and across the room to sit next to me in one fluid movement, a display file from his briefcase in his hand as if by magic. Sleight of hand like his, he could have been the new David Copperfield if hed gone straight.
He flipped the book open in front of me. I stared at a modest granite slab, letters stuck on it like Letraset rather than incised in the stone. This is the most basic model we offer, he said. But even that is finest Scottish granite, quarried by traditional methods and hand-finished by our own craftsmen. He quoted a price that made my daily rate seem like buttons. He placed the file on my lap.
Is that with or without the discount? I asked.
We always quote prices without discount, Mrs Barclay. So youre looking at a price that is twenty per cent less than that. And if you want to go ahead and youre prepared to pay a cash deposit plus cheque for the full amount tonight, I am authorized to offer you a further five per cent discount, making a total of one quarter less than the quoted price. His hand had moved to cover mine, gently patting it.
That was when the front door crashed open. Careful with that bag, its got the hot and sour soup in it, I heard a familiar voice shout. I closed my eyes momentarily. Now I knew how Mary Magdalene felt on Easter Sunday.
Kate? You in here? Richards voice beat him into the room by a couple of seconds. He arrived in the doorway clutching a fragrant plastic carrier bag, a smoking spliff in his other hand. He looked around his living room incredulously. What the hells going on? What have you done to the place?
He stepped into the room, followed by a pair of burly neopunks, each with a familiar Chinese takeaway carrier bag. It was the only remotely normal thing about them. Each wore heavy black work boots laced halfway up their calves, ragged black leggings and heavy tartan knee-length kilts. Above the waist, they had black granddad shirts with strategic rips held together by kilt pins and Celtic brooches. Across their chests, each had a diagonal tartan sash of the kind worn on television on Hogmanay by the dancers on those terrible ethnic fantasias the Scottish TV companies broadcast to warm the cockles of their exiles hearts and make the rest of us throw up into our champagne. The one on Richards left had bright red hair left long and floppy on top. The sides of his head were stubbled. The other had a permed, rainbow striped Mohican. Each was big enough to merit his own postcode. They looked like Rob Roy dressed by Vivienne Westwood. Will Allen goggled at the three of them, aghast.
Richard dropped the bag of Chinese food and his jaw as the transformation to the room really sank in. Jesus, Brannigan, I turn my back for five minutes and you trash the place. And who the hell are you? he demanded, glowering at Allen.
Allen reassembled his face into something approaching a smile. Im Will Allen. From Greenhalgh and Edwards, the monumental masons. About Mr Barclays memorial?
Richard frowned. Mr Barclays memorial? You mean, as in gravestone?
Allen nodded. Thats not the term we prefer to use, but yes, as in gravestone.
Mr Richard Barclay, would that be?
Thats right.
Richard shook his head in disbelief. He stuck his hand into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a press card with his photograph on it. He thrust it towards Allen. Do I look dead to you?
Allen was on his feet, his folder pulled out of my grasp. He threw it into the briefcase, grabbed it and shouldered past Richard and the two Celtic warriors. Ah shit, I swore, jumping to my feet and pushing through the doorway in Allens wake.
Come back here, Brannigan, youve got some explaining to do, I heard Richard yell as I reached the door. Allen was sprinting down the path towards the car-parking area. I didnt have my car keys on me; the last thing Id anticipated was a chase. But Allen was my only lead and he was getting away. I had to do something. I ran down the path after him, glad that the only respectable pair of black shoes in my wardrobe had been flat pumps. As he approached a silver Mazda saloon, the lights flashed and I heard the doors unlock. Allen jumped into the car. The engine started first time. Another one of the joys of modern technology that makes life simpler for the bad guys. He reversed in a scream of tyres and engine, threw the car into a three-point turn and swept out of the cul-de-sac where I live. Anyone seeing him burn rubber as he swung on to the main drag would only mark him down as one of the local car thieves being a little indiscreet.
Dispirited, I sighed and walked back to the house. Id got the number of his car, but I had a funny feeling that wasnt going to take me a whole lot further forward. These people were too professional for that. At least I had the whole thing on tape, I reminded myself. I stopped in my tracks. Oh no, I didnt. In the confusion of Alexiss visit and the fallout from her shock announcement, Id forgotten to switch on the radio mikes Id planted in Richards living room. The whole operation was a bust.
Not only that, but I was going to have to deal with an irate and very much alive Richard, who was by now standing on his doorstep, arms folded, face scowling. Swallowing a sigh, I walked towards him. If Id been wearing heels, Id have been dragging them. I know you think being on the road with a neopunk band is a fate worse than death, but it doesnt actually call for a tombstone, Richard said sarcastically as I approached.
It was work, I said wearily.
Am I supposed to be grateful for that? Theres a man in my living room at least, I thought it was my living room, but looking at it, Im not so sure any more. Maybe I walked into the wrong house by mistake? Anyway, theres some smooth bastard in my living room, sitting on my settee discussing my gravestone with my so-called girlfriend