Then he nodded at me and I inclined my head before my eyes slid away to the woman with him. The obligatory blonde. Beautiful, spoilt and from the same class as him. How many times I have
seen them, and yet this time I knew a moment of piercing pain. Where I come from we just call it jealousy.
The jealousy surprised and confused me.
Must be the grief, I told myself. He is not for you, but he will be there for you.
No matter how cold and distant he was to me I could trust him. He was the only one I must trust. Robert had said so and I trusted Robert. That man will fight your corner, he said.
I turned my eyes towards the church entrance. Yes, I could do this. I would die before I let Robert down.
Ivan’s secretary hurried up to me.
‘Good morning, Mrs. Maxwell.’
‘Hello, Mrs. Macdonald,’ I said. All of a sudden I felt a jolt of panic. I clutched her hand. ‘The flowers on the top of the casket. They are dusky pink roses, aren’t they?’
She smiled faintly. ‘Yes, they are.’
‘Oh good. For a moment there I thought I forgot to tell Janice.’ Janice was Robert’s secretary and she had liaised everything with Mrs. Macdonald.
‘You didn’t,’ she said gently.
‘They were his mother’s favorite flowers,’ I explained.
‘I see.’ Her voice was polite.
Mrs. Macdonald’s gaze slipped down to my pendant. I understood. She could not help herself. It was so special. In a rush her eyes came up again, her expression almost guilty.
‘Come this way,’ she said and led me inside the cold, damp cathedral filled with hundreds of people. A sudden hush fell upon the gathered mourners. We walked up to the front pew
silently, our shoes loud on the limestone floor. I could feel all their heads turn to watch me. Some were curious, others were openly envious or resentful. I am the American girl who
appeared from nowhere, married a multimillionaire, and in two years was the heiress of a sizeable fortune. They don’t know I loved him entirely, the good, bad, the ugly. I loved all of
it. They could not see my silent grief.
They just saw the gold digger.
All I could see was the rosewood coffin. Pale morning light streamed in through the stained glass of the cathedral’s windows and fell on his fine casket with its gilt handles and a lush
arrangement of dusky pink roses on it. Inside I knew it was silk-lined and perfumed with sandalwood oil.
Robert was lying inside.
I took my seat on the hard bench and listened to minister’s words and the well-spoken words of all those people who had not come to see him in his last months. They waxed lyrical about
what a wonderful man he was. Then Rosalind took the pulpit for her tribute. I kept my eyes to the grey flagstones while dry-eyed, she told the world about her great love for her father.
‘I sat on his knees. I loved him. Before he lost his mind he knew I loved him. But the sickness, it turned his brain to mush and he could no longer tell the difference between true love
and the lies of strangers. People who were only there for what they could get. Daddy, I love you. Always. Wherever you are.’
Then it was Ivan’s turn. I looked up and his gaze met mine. I dragged my eyes away in confusion.
I sat staring at the floor and listened to old stories about Robert. Things I never knew. He loved to hunt. I never knew. He could out drink any man. I never knew. There was so much I
didn’t know. I only knew him when he was sick and diminished.
My eyes became wet, but I did not even realize that I was crying until my ribs began to heave as if they were suddenly too full of sorrow. I put my head down and closed my eyes. It was
good that he was gone. He was in pain. It was a good thing.
Of course, I did not take the stand. I told him I wouldn’t. ‘Please, Robert, don’t make me do it.’ And he had smiled. ‘No, your love is pure. What is pure must never be examined. It will
hurt the impure.’
So I didn’t speak at his funeral service. Instead there would always be a part of me still dressed in full black, sitting on the front pew at his funeral, listening to ‘The Lord Is My
Shepherd.’
CHAPTER 4
Tawny Maxwell
There were six pallbearers dressed in black suits and white gloves. The gold handles glinted in the sunlight as they lifted the casket onto their shoulders. I saw Ivan go up to the man
in front, tap him on the shoulder, and take his position. I stared at him. Why, he must have loved Robert too. I stood at the bottom of the church steps and watched them carefully load
Robert into the back of the hearse.