Bright Air - Barry Maitland [10]
Finally I wept a little, for Luce. It wasn’t like a dam breaking. More like something frozen beginning to melt.
3
There was a big crowd gathered in the forecourt of the church when I drove past, and I had to go on several blocks before I could find a parking space. I didn’t recognise anyone as I joined the queue at the foot of the church steps to sign the attendance book. Then, turning away, I found myself facing Damien. He seemed larger, more forceful, as he gripped my hand and pulled me into a bear hug, slapping my back.
‘Fantastic to see you, Josh. I didn’t know you were back. Isn’t this just sickening? What did they think they were doing? Crazy bastards. God, I’ll miss them.’
He was larger, by half a dozen kilos at least, and smoother somehow. When we were students he’d had a beard and had seemed quite rugged, but the beard had gone now and the look was much sleeker. But the change was to do with his personality, too, or his projection of it. He’d always stepped in when our group needed a bit of leadership, but now I had the impression that he didn’t wait to take charge.
Something over my shoulder caught his attention and he said, ‘I’m going to have to shoot off straight after this, but we must catch up.’ He slipped a business card out of his top pocket. ‘Here.’
‘You’re a lawyer?’ I said, noting the name of a big law firm in Martin Place.
‘Yes, I gave up on science the year you left, concentrated on law. Commercial mainly, up your street. Who were you with in London, by the way?’
‘BBK, a German bank …’
‘I know them, they’re clients of ours. So you’re working for them in Sydney now? With Victor?’
‘No. I’m looking around first.’
‘Okay. Who was your London boss?’
I hesitated. ‘Sir George Henderson.’
‘Don’t know him. Well, look, give me a call. Soon.’ He clapped me on the arm and moved off. I felt as if I’d been strip-searched. I joined the crush moving into the church. I couldn’t see Anna anywhere.
It was a good service, I suppose you’d say, very professional. Parts of it moved the people around me to tears, especially when Curtis’s brother delivered a heartbroken eulogy, but I couldn’t feel anything. It all seemed so remote from the two blokes I’d known. Only the pair of caskets, side by side on the altar steps, stopped me short, metonymy in spades.
But afterwards, outside the church, I had to face Owen’s wife, Suzi, and that was painful. She was weeping and looked totally washed out, as if she hadn’t slept in days. We hugged each other and she whispered her thanks to me for coming. I hardly knew what to say, and mumbled some platitude. Really, there are no words, are there? She was twenty-five, a pretty but not very bright girl with few options. A little boy was clinging to her hand, looking confused.
‘Do you remember Thomas?’ Suzi asked, sniffing and wiping her eyes.
‘Of course. I used to babysit you. Can I have a hug?’ I bent down and the boy gave me an awkward peck on the cheek.
Ranked behind Suzi were the families, her parents and Owen’s holding the second child, a baby, and then Curtis’s next to them, with Curtis’s brother. I shook all their hands, and they said they recognised my name and knew I’d been a good friend to the two young men.
Anna was outside the church, standing in the shade of a large tree, the morning sun turning hot.
‘Hi,’ I said. ‘You okay?’ I saw that she’d been crying too, a little smear of make-up in the darker skin beneath each eye.
She hunched her shoulders. ‘Did you see Damien?’
‘Briefly. He seemed in a rush. He said a few words about the boys and then grilled me on my CV. Very focused.’ I was remembering a more carefree Damien, a lad with an eye for the girls, who fell for him with bewildering speed. We never understood why because he wasn’t particularly good-looking. We’d quiz the women afterwards, but they didn’t seem to know either.
‘That’s what happens to us,’ she said. ‘A couple of months filling in six-minute charge-out time sheets and calculating his Christmas bonus, and Damien has turned into a wage-slave like the rest of us.’
‘True enough. Want