you ’ ve grown. Already it was more like a wedding than a funeral, but Charlotte and George stood alone, surrounded by enough grass to talk quietly without being heard.
‘ Looks like you don ’ t get on. ’
‘ Oh, they don ’ t approve of me at all. ’ Charlotte panned a smile around the gathering, almost like she enjoyed their hostility.
‘ How come? ’
At the end of the lawn a group of people gathered around Harry Ahlquist all looked at Charlotte over their shoulders at the same time, and turned away.
‘ Sergeant Major Ahlquist, ’ she lifted her glass towards him, ‘ didn ’ t like Jack becoming an officer, and he especially didn ’ t like him marrying me. ’
‘ Why ever not? ’ She was friendly, she was lovely and , although her parents were a bit stuck up, George hadn ’ t seen any pretensions. Charlotte lifted her glass towards Jack ’ s mother, who was darting from group to group like a rather plump blackbird with a tea tray.
‘ That ’ s the sort of woman they wanted for their boy. I bet she gets up early to dust the ceiling and iron the cat. ’
‘ Meow. ’
‘ Sorry, that was a bit bitchy. ’
‘ I like her. ’ The only time George could remember her own mum baking savouries for her friends, they ’ d had cannabis in them. That was one weird party.
‘ And Harry Ahlquist treats her like a dishcloth. ’
‘ He seemed relieved that your parents didn ’ t come. ’
‘ Mummy and Daddy have never forgiven him for boycotting our wedding. ’ She turned her head as Jack appeared beside her and said ‘ hey ’ like they were workmates; friends but not friends enough to touch.
‘ I ’ m just telling George some family history. ’
Jack said ‘ Uh -huh? ’ in a tone that told George he wasn ’ t too sure about that, but Charlotte carried on anyway. ‘ We wanted close family to wear morning dress , you see. Harry threw a wobbly and told Jack ’ s people not to come. ’
‘ But why? ’
‘ Inverted snobbery. ’ Jack answered for her. He had a strange way of standing, with his weight on his right leg and his left leg flexed, on its toes. ‘ He said there was no way he was going to pretend to be a toff, so we could go to hell. ’
I could see the pain behind his eyes. It must still hurt.
‘ So you had no one there from your side? ’
‘ School friends. Marines friends. A guard of honour with an arch of swords outside. ’ He bent to touch his sister ’ s children, who were playing catch around his legs, unaware of the social tides around them. A preschool boy chased a girl at the giggly- screamy stage of infancy. The seal pup with tits glared across the lawn like she could call them back with a look.
‘ That ’ s Tilly, ’ Charlotte whispered, smiling sweet acid at Jack ’ s sister. ‘ Daddy ’ s little girl. ’
‘ But no family? ’ George prompted Jack.
‘ Grandpa came. He defied the ban. That ’ s why Charlotte ’ s people came today. ’
Jack watched the party with a l et ’ s -get-this-over- with look on his face. The children ran off around the corner of the house, the boy leading his younger sister, both laughing.
Charlotte smiled again, a bit more grimly this time. ‘ So we ’ ve gone our own way ever since. Now I ’ m the bad girl for taking … ’
She stopped as a child screamed. It wasn ’ t the grazed-knee scream of a tumble, but a high-pitched note of terror, and beyond the scream was a low thunder like a block being pulled along a wooden deck. The noise ended with an impact but the screaming continued for as long as it took the girl to run back across the lawn and bury her face in Tilly ’ s skirts. The boy followed, also running, trying not to look frightened.
‘ There ’ s a monster and it growled at her. ’ The boy was wide-eyed as Tilly knelt and hugged the girl, who snivelled into her chest. Jack disappeared around the corner of the house and came back cradling a black, wooden carving shaped like an arching horse ’ s neck, about four feet long. It took George a moment to recognise Draca ’ s figurehead. Jack stopped at the edge of the lawn, keeping his distance as the girl ’ s screams became frantic.
‘ Is this the monster? ’ Jack spoke gently, making light of the moment.
‘ It growled at her. ’ The boy was insistent.
‘ Like this, perhaps? ’ Jack dragged the carving against the boundary fence, wood on wood, so it made a low rumble. The girl still cried. ‘ Let ’ s cover it up, shall we? ’
Harry arrived to see what all the fuss was about, and Jack rounded on him, angry but whispering.
‘ That was supposed to be in the coffin with Grandpa. ’
‘ Nasty thing. Shouldn ’ t be part of a Christian burial. ’
‘ Since when did you get religion? ’
‘ You can take it back where it came from. ’
‘ That would have meant a lot to him. ’
‘ Well it ’ s too late now. I ’ ll find something to wrap it in. ’
Harry strode off, shoulders stiff like he was biting back another comment. As Jack turned, holding the carving, it seemed the figurehead watched Harry go, not Jack. There was a darkness about it that wasn ’ t just its colour, it was more like a shape that sucked in the light. If it hadn ’ t already been in shadow when Jack propped it up against the fence, George would have checked to see if it threw one. It looked frigging evil and , if she had been a kid, it would have scared the shit out of her. She stared at it after the crowd drifted back to the lawn, and it stared back like it was aware. George swallowed, forcing back a weird sense that it knew her. More than that, she could believe it knew she was afraid. In all this crowd, was there only her and the little girl who could see that? It was unsettling in the way that thunder from an empty sky is unsettling. It makes you look around and shiver and wonder what the feck is going on. In the end , George turned away, the first one to blink, and gulped wine.
Behind her the funeral was turning into a party. There was no grieving, no tears, no retelling of happy memories. The children were the first into the pool. Tilly jumped in after them, wearing a bikini that bulged like her kids ’ flotation rings. One or two of the other parents changed into cozzies and joined them, and within a few minutes the focus had shifted to the poolside. Harry disappeared into a wooden changing hut, shouting at his wife to bring towels and spare costumes.
George wasn ’ t tempted. She hadn ’ t had a reaction like that about an object, a thing, since she was a teenager and saw an ancient stone head in the British Museum. Aztec, or something. It was only carved stone, like the figurehead was only carved wood, but she knew something unspeakable had happened around it. She ’ d even thought that the horror was still inside it.
So she hung back, wishing she could go back to the yard. Soon only Jack, Charlotte and George were left on the lawn, looking over the hedge at the crowd around the pool, until Harry emerged from the changing hut. He strutted round the side of the pool, running his thumbs backwards and forwards inside the waistband of his swimming shorts and laughing with the people already in the water. He had a good body for a guy who must be late fifties, barrel chested and muscled like a man who worked out a lot, and he knew it. George could tell that by the way he called out to people. The words might have been ‘ having fun? ’ but the message was ‘ look at me ’ . And he didn ’ t just jump into the water : he bombed, showering anyone still on the poolside. When he surfaced and stood, laughing, shaking the hair out of his eyes, the water had turned the hairs on his back from blond