for more than sixty years. She is more than just my guiding light.’ Gabe placed the speech down slowly and raised his eyes to Marla’s. ‘She is the rock that this lighthouse stands on.’
Marla’s heart cracked wide open. It was the most beautiful, sentimental thing she’d ever heard, and she suddenly understood why Dora had worn her little diamond lighthouse brooch every single day. It must have been a love token from Ivan, as precious in its own way as her wedding ring.
The hauntingly familiar intro bars of Dame Vera Lynn’s war-time anthem ‘We’ll Meet Again’ floated out across the chapel, and all around the room tissues were pulled from handbags as old and young hearts alike swelled with pride.
Gabe stepped down from the lectern and joined the pallbearers around the casket. Dora’s elderly friends and fellow war survivors stood and joined their voices with Dame Vera’s, their swelling song a beautiful tribute as Dora left the chapel for the final time.
Marla rubbed Emily’s back as she sobbed, and together they helped Ivan outside to Tom’s car.
Everyone filed out behind them to watch the funeral cortege leave for the cemetery: Gabe and Dan in the front of the hearse, Emily and Tom escorting Ivan in the car behind.
It was only as the hearse disappeared around the corner that someone in the lingering crowd glanced towards the funeral parlour.
‘Fire!’
Chapter Thirty-Nine
A collective shriek went up around the group assembled on the grass, and several of the younger men sprang into action and dashed to see what was happening.
Marla, who had been about to drive herself and her mother to the cemetery, stared in horror at the orange glow inside the front window of the parlour.
‘I’ll call the fire brigade,’ she yelled over the racket and ducked back into the chapel to grab her mobile.
By the time she ran back outside again several minutes later the glow had grown into a blaze, and the crowd had at least doubled, if not tripled.
The flames had really taken hold in the reception area, and as the wail of sirens came down the high street the front window of the funeral parlour exploded outwards with an ear splitting crack.
Within minutes, Firefighters spilled out of an engine from all sides. They set up a cordon to keep the crowds safe, as others unreeled hosepipes at lightning speed.
‘Poor Gabriel,’ Cecilia muttered as she clutched onto Marla’s arm.
All around her, Marla could hear snippets of conversation from the over-excited crowd.
‘He’ll be ruined,’ said one.
‘I’ll bet it was arson!’ speculated another.
‘Insurance job. Funeral was the perfect cover,’ a sly voice chimed in.
Marla’s head swum with all of the theories.
Why was it human nature to automatically assume the worst of people?
‘I can smell pork!’ someone yelled, excitedly. ‘It’ll be the stiffs in there cooking!’
Marla swung around to face a gang of teenage boys that had gathered behind her.
‘Don’t be so bloody disrespectful!’ she spat, but all the same, the words struck fear into her heart.
Were there bodies in there? It was too horrific to contemplate.
‘I’m going back into the chapel,’ she murmured to her mother. ‘Someone should try to get hold of Gabe.’
Back inside the quiet confines of the chapel, the enormity of the situation hit her. All of those people outside were right. Gabe would be ruined, and people would jump to conclusions. Jesus, she’d wanted him gone, but not like this.
She sat down at her desk in the office. Thankfully it looked as if the fire service were winning their battle to tame the fire; it was less inferno-like now and more of a drenched, smoking mess.
She dialled Emily’s mobile number as she stared out of the window, but after a couple of rings it clicked through to answer phone. Crap.
‘Emily, it’s Marla. Listen. There’s been a fire at the funeral parlour. The fire service is here now, but it’s bad, Em. It’s really bad. Tell Gabe to get back here straight …’ She trailed off, dumbstruck as one of the firemen stumbled from the funeral parlour with a burned and blackened form in his arms.
A very limp female form. Long black hair trailed over the fireman’s arm as he carried her to the ambulance that had joined the scene.
Melanie.
Sweet Jesus.
‘Just tell him to get back here, Emily. Quickly.’
‘That’s about all for tonight, Mr Ryan. We’ll be in touch in the morning.’
Gabe shook DCI Pearson’s hand and watched him hurry away down the street towards his car. It was a little after 7 p.m. on what had turned out