Mr Almost Right - By Eleanor Moran Page 0,124

myself to a mere four hours’ sleep in the process. I must look like the Bride of Frankenstein standing up here in three inches of foundation, white as a sheet. I get the poetry book out and place it on the lectern, swallowing down the nauseous panic. I make a faltering start, way too quiet to be heard all the way to the back.

Remember me when I am gone away,

Gone far away into the silent land;

When you can no more hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.

My voice is wobbling all over the place. What possessed me to pick the poem that Dad read at Mum’s funeral? It’s the most beautiful evocation of loss that I know, but past and present are concertinaing up in a way that’s making me worry I’m going to lose my grip. I grasp the lectern and force myself onward. Zelda would not be impressed.

Remember me when no more day by day

You tell me of our future that you planned:

I’m rushing now, wanting so much to have performed my task. But I don’t want to race through, I want people to have time to absorb the sentiment. To appreciate that it echoes what Michael said about Zelda living on in the time we all shared with her.

Only remember me; you understand

It will be late to counsel then or pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while

It’s this line that finally floors me. The idea of forgetting – that in order to get on with living we have to forget, at least part of the time – seems so acutely painful. I feel so overwhelmed that I suddenly lose my way entirely. I stand there, frozen, looking out at all those faces, unable to continue. I’m furious with myself, screaming internally that I’ve got to focus, but outwardly paralysed. And that’s when I hear the tap, tap, tap of Alice’s ridiculously high black boots coming round the side of the front pews. Normally I call them her hooker boots, but that seems faintly sacrilegious under the circs. She’s pink and perspiring, looking every bit as panicked as me. She crosses to the lectern, holds my hand as I find the gumption to get to the end.

And afterwards remember, do not grieve:

For if the darkness and corruption leave

A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,

Better by far you should forget and smile

Than that you should remember and be sad.

I manage to read the last section as I intended to read the whole: slowly, thoughtfully and with the right degree of emotion. I walk back, still holding Alice’s hand, monumentally relieved that I’ve done what I promised.

The funeral is as good a celebration of Zelda as one could hope for. There are a couple more readings, another hymn and then a rousing chorus of ‘Let It Be’ which Michael has picked to break up the pomp and circumstance. Alice joins in all of it with gusto, even though she only met Zelda once or twice. I’ve got a million questions to ask about her arrival, but mostly I’m just happy she’s here. All the knotty problems that seemed so critical to sort out feel like an irrelevancy. Or is it just that I know we can face them down now they’re out in the open?

‘How’d you get here?’ I ask, as soon as people begin to file out. Alice grins. ‘Police escort.’ It’s then that I notice Ali standing with Jenna in the entrance vestibule. He does wear that uniform very well: who knew epaulettes could be so sexy? Well, I guess anyone who’s watched An Officer And A Gentleman as many times as me. Richard Gere was way more appealing when he knew acting was his specialist subject rather than world peace. Maybe there should be some kind of revolving door where the Dalai Lama starts starring in shoot-’em-up action films and Nelson Mandela tries his hand at romantic comedy.

‘Hello,’ I say, unable to think of anything more useful. Now it’s all over I’ve gone back to my useless, washed-out state, although setting eyes on Ali is more cheering than I could ever have predicted.

‘Lulu!’ shrieks Jenna, hugging me like we’ve been estranged for decades. I give her a proper hug back nevertheless, monumentally grateful that she’s short-circuited the agonizing and brought Alice straight back to me. Alice is still clinging on to me like it’s the first day of school, which suits me just fine.

‘Can we meet you

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