Stevie didn’t do black. It didn’t suit her. She was far more comfortable in white – chef’s whites to be exact – but she could hardly have worn those to a funeral, could she? Although she suspected Great Aunt Peg would have seen the funny side if Stevie had worn them.
Tears threatened, and she tried to push them away as Peg’s last words drifted into her head.
‘Don’t be sad, my dear,’ Peggy had said. ‘I’m ready to go. I’ve had a long life and a good one. Life is for living and for dying, Stevie – you don’t get one without the other.’
‘Shh,’ Stevie replied. ‘You’re not going to die, I won’t let you.’
Her aunt had wheezed out a feeble laugh. ‘You’re not going to get any choice in it, my lovely. Now, don’t mope and do me a favour?’
Stevie, with tears streaming down her face, said, ‘Anything.’
‘You only get one chance at it, so live it your way, otherwise I’ll come back and haunt you.’
After that, Peg seemed to sink into herself and slowly faded away.
How could I not be sad? Stevie wondered, for the twentieth time since that awful night. Peg had been like a grandmother to her, much more than her own had ever been. It was a pity her mother didn’t see it the same way though, she thought, stealing a glance out of the corner of her eye at the woman standing next to her. No one could accuse her mother of being sad, more like bored if she were honest. Hazel regarded Peggy’s funeral as a duty, nothing more, something which had to be got through and then moved on from.
For a moment, she quite disliked her mother. And right now, she wasn’t too keen on her sister, either. None of her relatives wanted to be here (not that anyone ever actually wanted to be at a funeral) but those two, in particular, hadn’t felt any real need to pay their respects, and she suspected they were only doing so for the sake of appearances. After all, neither of them had bothered with Aunt Peg while she was alive, so why Stevie expected them to behave any differently now the old lady was dead, was beyond her.
Karen leaned into her side and Stevie gave her a watery smile. At least her friend had cared for Peg, and she hadn’t even been related to the old lady.
Karen whispered, ‘It’s a beautiful service. You’ve done your Aunt Peg proud.’
This time a tear did fall. She had done her aunt proud, hadn’t she? The nursing home where Peg had lived for the final six months of her life had recommended holding the service at the chapel next door to them. Stevie had wondered more than once if the care home had been built next to the chapel for the express purpose of providing the reverend with a steady stream of clients. But Stevie had chosen the little church near her aunt’s old house. The old building tended to get lost among the blocks of flats and offices, but she knew Peggy used to go there once in a while, and always at Christmas. Besides, there were still one or two people who remembered the old lady and had wanted to attend her funeral without having to trek halfway across London to do so.
All her mother had done was to gripe about the cost of the funeral cars, which Stevie found hard to understand – they weren’t exactly being charged by the mile, and Hazel wasn’t paying for them out of her own pocket. Peg had left enough money to cover the cost of her funeral. Her mother was at least being consistent, Stevie conceded, because she had grizzled about the cost of everything, especially the flowers. Even now, Stevie swore her mother was giving the simple, yet effective withering look. But Stevie had been adamant – Peggy had loved flowers, and so she was determined not to skimp. It was the only thing she could do for her aunt, except for scattering her ashes. But she didn’t want to think about that right now…
‘Here.’ Her mother thrust a hankie into her hand. ‘Try to stop snivelling.’
Stevie took it with a scowl, and Karen slipped her arm around Stevie’s shoulders as the service drew to a close and the final hymn was sung. Lord, but Stevie was going to miss the curmudgeonly old lady dreadfully. What else was she going to do on a Saturday morning? Ever since Peg had been forced to live in the nursing home due to her increasingly poor health and frailty, Stevie had visited on Saturdays. She always took the old lady a treat or two, and renewed her library book (she only had one out at a time, because with her eyesight failing Peg had been forced to rely on others to read to her), and Stevie had always given her a bunch of flowers.
At least I don’t have her house to worry about, Stevie thought. It had been bad enough having to sort out the few possessions which Peg had taken with her to the nursing home. To be fair to the old woman, when Peg understood she could no longer care for herself (Stevie had offered to move in with her, but Peggy was adamant she didn’t want Stevie nursing her), she had sorted out her own affairs with remarkable efficiency.
It was one of the things Stevie had loved about Peggy – her independence. If the old woman could do it herself, then she did. ‘I don’t want to be a burden,’ was her favourite expression, and it used to exasperate Stevie no end. As if Aunt Peg could ever be a burden!
It was just a pity the rest of her family hadn’t viewed Peg in the same way. Neither her mother nor her sister seemed to have had any time for the old woman. Admittedly, her mother used to invite her round for lunch at Christmas and Easter, but that was about it – token gestures, nothing more. And since Peggy had moved to the nursing home, her mother had only visited once and Fern hadn’t visited at all as far as Stevie was aware. In fact, her sister seemed to have completely forgotten their great-aunt existed.
There – it was over. Stevie had been dreading this day ever since the nursing manager had called to say Aunt Peg was slipping away and if she wanted to say goodbye she needed to get there quickly. And Stevie had been glad to have been there at the end, holding her aunt’s hand and telling her she loved her as the old woman took her last breath.
The only regret she had, was that she hadn’t been able to do more. What with working the unreasonable hours chefs were expected to put in, and the restaurant being on the other side of London, it had been hard to get to see Peg more often than each Saturday.
At least Peggy knew how much Stevie loved her, and she took comfort from that.