Singapore Sling Shot - Andrew Grant [93]
I went to stand close to the beautiful lady in the satin-lined casket. The crucifix caught the light. I hadn’t known she was Catholic. But then we had never really discussed religion. She had been reluctant to talk much about her past, as I had been, I guess. I think that we had both been looking to the horizon to see if there was any future for us together.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, and I was sorry. Maybe, just maybe this was the woman I was meant to be with for what remained of my life.
I leaned down and kissed her on the lips. They were like ice. They burned with the cold, but as I straightened I could taste her; the lipstick she wore in death had been the same she had worn in life. My fingers stroked her icy cheek and touched the golden silk of her hair. God, she was beautiful! How long I stood there looking down at her, waiting for her to open her eyes and tell me that this was just a mistake, I don’t know. A noise at the door broke the spell. I could hear Sami’s hushed voice.
“Goodbye,” I whispered and without looking back, I walked to the door and opened it. There were two youngsters standing there. I had met David and Angela only a few times. We’d got on well and had fun. They looked at me. Recognition momentarily overcame the anguish and confusion on their faces. I reached for them collectively and pulled them into a group hug, a hard one. I told them how very sorry I was.
I let the kids go and they reluctantly stepped back. Their eyes were red and their faces pale. Then I noticed the third member of the little group. Standing behind the children was a woman. She was tall and blonde, a slightly older and more weatherworn and travel-weary version of Simone.
“Justine,” Sami said, introducing her to me. “This is”—for a moment he hesitated, debating whether or not to use my real name—“Daniel.”
Justine looked at me, fighting back tears and jetlag. Her eyes, however, focussed on mine. There was a look of appraisal there, mingled with her sorrow. Obviously her sister had spoken to her about me. She knew exactly who I was and perhaps how much I meant to Simone, or how little, if I were a cynic. I banished that thought as it hit me.
“I’m so sorry for you as well,” Justine said to me, the tears finally coming. We hugged. I was close to tears myself. The embrace lasted long enough for me to know that whatever Simone had told her sister about me, cynicism wasn’t in the equation.
When Justine and I parted, Sami escorted her and the children into the viewing room while I headed outside. I was contemplating coming off the nicotine wagon and having a cigarette. I didn’t have any on me, so I was going to have to find a 7-Eleven or bum one. In the end I did neither. I closed the outer door and just leaned against the wall and breathed in the thick wet air.
Sami’s new driver was standing smoking with another man beside the Mercedes parked in the funeral home’s small forecourt. There was a golden Lexus parked beside the Merc. I didn’t go to either driver for a cigarette. I just stayed where I was. I brushed away the tears and automatically began to analyse the situation. Old habits, huh?
Jo Ankar and three others were in a second car parked across the narrow street. K and several others were in another vehicle a hundred yards further along. With Lu back in town, Sami was not about to take any chances. I sucked in several more deep breaths and composed myself. Simone was dead, the victim of an accident. Now it was time to move on. There would be the funeral tomorrow. Whether I should stay in Singapore to help Sami take Thomas Lu down, or go back to my empty apartment and suddenly empty life in Hong Kong, or quietly head north into Thailand, I didn’t know. I’d make that decision when Simone was in the ground.
Sami emerged from the funeral parlour ushering Justine and the children ahead of him. The youngsters were both crying. Their aunt walked between them, her arms around their shoulders. She had dried her tears and was now focussing on the children, whispering first to one and then the other. She lifted her gaze to me,