her best to stay away from him, but he’d talked her into having a few more lessons. She wouldn’t discuss it with me, though, not since Jamie told her what I’d said. She was furious.
Louise had been busy at work – being a detective in central Edinburgh meant she had no down time really. But she’d been ringing or emailing me every day to check things were okay. We were spending longer and longer communicating every day and I was really beginning to like her a lot. I was hoping to meet up with her, but it felt inappropriate to suggest dinner or drinks when we’d met in such a horrible way.
Star’s mum had called last week to tell me the funeral was today.
“It would mean so much to us if you could make it,” she’d said. Esme had planned to come with me – she’d put her irritation with me aside to offer and I’d been so grateful. But then the trial she’d been preparing for had been brought forward, so she was in court today instead. I’d thought about asking Xander to come, but he’d offered to hold the fort at the spa. The success of his sessions had made him really proud and he was even more invested in the future of the business. Just yesterday, he’d brought up buying into the spa again, and I’d put him off, again, telling him I had to think about it. He’d looked a bit disgruntled and I’d remembered Louise’s warnings about employees with a grudge, then dismissed it straight away as he’d hugged me and told me not to worry about anything, he’d look after things all day.
So here I was trudging down to the main road, on my way to the crematorium. I’d barely slept last night thinking about Star and worrying about what today would bring, but I knew I had to suck it up. She had been my employee and I owed it to her to pay my last respects. But that didn’t mean I was in a hurry.
Angling my brolly against the freezing rain, I walked to the end of the road. Ahead of me, a row of taxis stood waiting, their orange lights shining like beacons through the dreich morning. To my right, three miserable people stood at the bus stop. A taxi would get me to the crematorium in ten minutes. I crossed the road, dodging the traffic, and walked to the bus stop.
I hadn’t been on a bus for years. Actually, years. Edinburgh was small enough, and our flat central enough, for me to walk most places. And the unpredictable nature of buses meant they grated on my need for control. Esme, of course, used them all the time. And as far as I knew, she didn’t even use magic to make them come when she wanted. Me, I didn’t even know how much it cost to travel by bus. I peered at the posters on the wall of the shelter, which were no use whatsoever, and at the other passengers. They all seemed to be clutching bus passes. Turning away from them, I waved my left hand over right palm. Coins appeared in my hand – a shocking amount of them. Was it really £1.40 just to go down the road? I was sure it was about 50p the last time I’d been on a bus. Oh well. It would be worth it to delay the journey a bit longer… Ah, and there was the bus. Typical.
And of course the traffic was light and of course the bus zoomed down the main road and arrived at Warriston in no time at all.
I got off the bus, feeling slightly dirty, and walked along the road towards the crematorium. It was busy, with cars streaming into the car park. I almost gasped when I turned into the gate and saw about a hundred people – maybe more – milling about outside the chapel. Star had obviously been very popular. There were lots of women, about my own age, crying. Most of them were wearing too much make-up. I stood back as the hearse arrived and averted my eyes from the coffin. Star’s mum and dad, looking grim-faced and tight-lipped, got out of the car along with a younger man – her brother I guessed. From a distance I saw Fiona, who looked pale and drawn. I waved to her across the crowd and she nodded to me. Star’s parents walked into the
Louise had been busy at work – being a detective in central Edinburgh meant she had no down time really. But she’d been ringing or emailing me every day to check things were okay. We were spending longer and longer communicating every day and I was really beginning to like her a lot. I was hoping to meet up with her, but it felt inappropriate to suggest dinner or drinks when we’d met in such a horrible way.
Star’s mum had called last week to tell me the funeral was today.
“It would mean so much to us if you could make it,” she’d said. Esme had planned to come with me – she’d put her irritation with me aside to offer and I’d been so grateful. But then the trial she’d been preparing for had been brought forward, so she was in court today instead. I’d thought about asking Xander to come, but he’d offered to hold the fort at the spa. The success of his sessions had made him really proud and he was even more invested in the future of the business. Just yesterday, he’d brought up buying into the spa again, and I’d put him off, again, telling him I had to think about it. He’d looked a bit disgruntled and I’d remembered Louise’s warnings about employees with a grudge, then dismissed it straight away as he’d hugged me and told me not to worry about anything, he’d look after things all day.
So here I was trudging down to the main road, on my way to the crematorium. I’d barely slept last night thinking about Star and worrying about what today would bring, but I knew I had to suck it up. She had been my employee and I owed it to her to pay my last respects. But that didn’t mean I was in a hurry.
Angling my brolly against the freezing rain, I walked to the end of the road. Ahead of me, a row of taxis stood waiting, their orange lights shining like beacons through the dreich morning. To my right, three miserable people stood at the bus stop. A taxi would get me to the crematorium in ten minutes. I crossed the road, dodging the traffic, and walked to the bus stop.
I hadn’t been on a bus for years. Actually, years. Edinburgh was small enough, and our flat central enough, for me to walk most places. And the unpredictable nature of buses meant they grated on my need for control. Esme, of course, used them all the time. And as far as I knew, she didn’t even use magic to make them come when she wanted. Me, I didn’t even know how much it cost to travel by bus. I peered at the posters on the wall of the shelter, which were no use whatsoever, and at the other passengers. They all seemed to be clutching bus passes. Turning away from them, I waved my left hand over right palm. Coins appeared in my hand – a shocking amount of them. Was it really £1.40 just to go down the road? I was sure it was about 50p the last time I’d been on a bus. Oh well. It would be worth it to delay the journey a bit longer… Ah, and there was the bus. Typical.
And of course the traffic was light and of course the bus zoomed down the main road and arrived at Warriston in no time at all.
I got off the bus, feeling slightly dirty, and walked along the road towards the crematorium. It was busy, with cars streaming into the car park. I almost gasped when I turned into the gate and saw about a hundred people – maybe more – milling about outside the chapel. Star had obviously been very popular. There were lots of women, about my own age, crying. Most of them were wearing too much make-up. I stood back as the hearse arrived and averted my eyes from the coffin. Star’s mum and dad, looking grim-faced and tight-lipped, got out of the car along with a younger man – her brother I guessed. From a distance I saw Fiona, who looked pale and drawn. I waved to her across the crowd and she nodded to me. Star’s parents walked into the
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