The next night Grace called.
‘Did you ever manage to track down Fabulina and that friend of yours?’ I told her about my visit. ‘Well, I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news, doll.’ My stomach lurched. I thought immediately of Sykes.
‘Fabulina passed away on Monday. The funeral’s this afternoon. I thought you would want to know.’
‘How?’ I asked. ‘Where?’
‘She had just had a win at the bingo. Quite a lot of money I believe. She croaked from the thrill, poor darling. You know, I would have thought it would take more than a full house to kick Fabulina off. She was a tough old bird. I’ll come with you to the funeral if you like. It might be quite a show. All the dowagers will be there I should think — the queens of yore.’
I wondered what would happen to Fabulina’s house. All the junk. All the secrets. All that dust and pain. The patina of a lifetime.
‘I’d rather go by myself,’ I said. I didn’t want Grace there, pretending to be grave and at the same time nudging and hee-hawing at the old trannys. Also, there was a possibility that Sykes would be at the funeral. And he would probably be a mess. Grace would be likely to know him or know about him. I wanted to keep Sykes separate. I wanted to save him for myself. I didn’t want Grace’s commentary. Telling me things I didn’t want to know.