Gloria didn’t think her hands would ever stop shaking. She glanced at herself in the mirror. At least her face was no longer swollen from crying. She just hoped she looked good enough to do Len proud.
Her eyes ran over her black skirt suit, the best and only black one she owned. Len had got this made for her for Jimmy’s funeral. Only the best for you, Glor, and for Jimmy he’d said.
She’d worn it to several funerals since, but had hoped wearing it for her own dear Len’s final service would have been a lot further off. Was it disrespectful to wear it again for her husband’s? Maybe she should have bought a new one?
Fresh tears stung the back of her eyes and she willed herself not to break down. It was guaranteed she wouldn’t make it through the service without shedding a tear, but she wanted to at least start off on the right foot.
Looking up at the ceiling to quell the forming tears, Gloria blinked, a lump lodged in her throat. The hearse would be here soon and then it would be non-stop all day until the final person had left the wake. Only then would she really cry.
The funeral was the final journey – the permanent end. Until Len was in the ground, it wasn’t completely over, and she dreaded the second it was.
There would be so many people present. Not that she didn’t want Len’s funeral to be well-turned out, but all those people would want to talk to her offering sympathy, whereas she just wanted to be left alone.
Gloria dabbed some perfume onto the pulse points of her wrist – Len’s favourite perfume. Applying a touch more dusky pink lipstick, she blotted the excess away with a tissue.
Sam would be here shortly. She’d missed her daughter dreadfully since she’d returned to her apartment. Gloria sighed. She hadn’t wanted Sam to have to take the reins of the club, but her headstrong daughter was adamant about doing so.
One thing was for certain – today would be hard enough to get through as it was and Samantha couldn’t see this.
Gloria’s fingers shook as she pulled the letter from the top drawer of her dressing table. She’d scarcely been able to believe it when it arrived last week. For a long while, she’d been half-waiting for something like this, but as the years passed, the chances of it happening lessened, and eventually it had all but disappeared from her mind. But for it to happen now couldn’t have come at a worse time.
Even though she didn’t want to, Gloria found herself pulling the letter from the envelope and slowly unfolding it. She closed her eyes momentarily before staring at the typed words.
She knew what they said – she’d reread them enough times in the hope that somehow they’d changed, but unfortunately they were still exactly the same.
Sam hurried into her mother’s bedroom. ‘Are you ready?’
Flustered, Gloria shoved the letter back in the dressing table drawer. ‘I – I didn’t hear you arrive.’
Sam glanced suspiciously at the dressing table. ‘Everything okay?’
Gloria nodded. ‘Yes, just a letter from someone saying they were sorry to hear about your father.’ She smiled sadly. ‘I see you’re wearing one of your orchid hair clips?’
Sam nodded and smiled sadly. ‘I couldn’t not wear one today!’
Even though Sam wanted to, now was not the right time to question if her mother had been aware at the time whether her brother Jimmy’s death had been purposeful, rather than an accident.
She desperately wanted to know, but what if her mother wasn’t aware of the speculation? Knowing her father, she probably wasn’t, so wouldn’t that be opening up old wounds and giving her mother more things to worry over on top of losing her husband? Maybe she shouldn’t ever ask? Either way, it wasn’t a subject for today.
Bending down, Sam kissed her mother’s cheek. ‘Come on. It’s time to go. The hearse has arrived.’
Paling, Gloria looked up at her daughter. ‘Oh, Sam, I don’t know whether I can do this.’
Sam squeezed Gloria’s hand. ‘Yes, you can. It will be hard, but we’ll get through it together.’
Sam had been doing all right. Sort of. Although the hearse had arrived just after getting to her parents’ house, nothing had seemed real until she was in the back of the limousine following the Daimler containing her beloved father.
The flowers surrounding the coffin on its final journey were perfect: ‘Len’ one side, ‘Dad’ the other, and a huge centrepiece on top of the casket. The big display of purple, white and silver orchids from the staff at the casino had done him proud.
They had done the expected drive-by of the casino, finding Broad Street packed on both sides with people paying their respects. Although it was touching to see how many people in the city respected her father, each minute was becoming harder – more final – and it was all getting on top of her.
Turning into the church gates, hundreds of people gathered outside where speakers were erected on poles to cast the service to those who couldn’t fit inside. Sam’s heart thudded. How would she get through this? She wanted to run away and pretend none of it was happening.
Liam squeezed Sam’s hand and she fought her immediate reaction to pull away. She hadn’t wanted him accompanying them in the limousine reserved for the family, but she’d felt unable to rock the boat today.
Stepping out of the car onto worryingly shaky legs, Sam helped her mother out, her own sadness increasing seeing the desolation on her mother’s face.
Unable to stop herself from staring transfixed as her father’s coffin was unloaded, Sam felt like her legs might buckle.
‘I’m here,’ Liam said softly, gently steadying Sam with his arm.
Sam forced herself to smile and then nodded to John, who was staring at her with eyes cold as ice. Throwing off a shiver, she reluctantly moved into the church.
Spotting the unmistakable figure of Seb Stoker sitting on the opposite side, Sam’s stomach lurched. It took all of her power to continue up the aisle to the front.
Although she’d expected him to be here, she was reluctant to even be pleasant after the last time they had met. His barging into her apartment, making her feel two inches tall and accusing her of everything under the sun was not appreciated. Plus, he’d fired something within her which chose this very inopportune moment to reassert itself as the thundering of her heart at the mere sight of his wide-shouldered outline attested.
Keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the coffin, now safely resting on the wooden trestle at the head of the church, Sam walked past the Stoker family and took her place on the first row of pews with her mother.
Glad to be sitting down, Sam picked up an order of service, tears pricking to see the photo of her father printed on the front. Inhaling deeply, she prepared herself for what she knew would be the hardest day of her life so far.