The Favourite by S. V. Berlin

Author:S. V. Berlin [S.V. Berlin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780993563393
Publisher: Myriad Editions
Published: 2017-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

7

Friday

Bambi and Red Jelly

There was no need for the umbrella Martin loaned her that morning. The day dawned with a holiday feel, viciously sunny with bouncy, fluffy clouds and the lightest of breezes. In Martin and Sean’s local high street, people were out early to make the most of the spring weather. Older people stood gossiping outside the supermarket, while the cafés pulsed with fashionably dressed mothers sipping lattes and ignoring their children. As they drove across the Downs, a kite jigged and dipped over the sea and the radio predicted warmer temperatures. It’s all wrong, Isobel thought: the blue skies, the jolly radio announcer, the wildflowers lining the road as if waiting for a parade to come by, their colourful heads bobbing along to an invisible brass band. Years ago, she and Edward had gone to see Harold and Maude at the cinema. They had agreed afterwards that the effect of the rain and black umbrellas was not so much zanily upended but ruined by the cheery, saccharine Maude showing up with her bright yellow one. She stared out of the window and dared a posse of wide-eyed woodland Disney creatures to leap out and burst into song. Bambi, Isobel thought. Their mother let them watch Psycho, but never Bambi, because Bambi’s mother was killed by a hunter. To this day she had never seen it.

This morning it had taken a few moments to remember. She had woken early with a feeling of something ‘off’, like her period coming on or the arrival of a long-dreaded social obligation. And then the black dress came into focus, folded over the back of the chair. Today, Isobel had thought, it’s today. Although the idea didn’t feel any more likely, she realised, or less ludicrous, than yesterday. The whole week had felt partitioned off, as if she were observing it impassively through the eyes of an impostor who had gone through the motions on her behalf, mouthing the correct things – as presumably, she thought, they would again today. As they reached the last stretch of cliff road, she checked her pocket for the piece of folded paper that held her speech.

They were descending the hill into town, genteel semis and modest cars parked in tidy driveways giving way to shops and shoppers. Oblivious, Isobel thought, all of them. They drove on through the town centre and up a steep hill where they were greeted by an industrial-looking sign: Crematorium – Parking. Edward slowed the car and turned them into a smooth tarmac roadway. As they rounded the corner, Isobel saw a squat concrete building, topped by a thick chimneystack. It looked like a bunker.

‘Are you sure this is the right place?’ she asked Edward.

‘Yep, certain,’ he said. ‘We’re much too early.’ He pulled into a parking space and turned off the ignition. No one made a move to get out. Edward was immaculate-looking in a black suit, but her dress was scratchy and uncomfortable and she tugged at the hem. The silence in the car felt unbearable.

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