Picture You Dead

31

Monday, 30 September

As the organ struck up the final verse of the hymn, Roy’s cue, he felt a tight squeeze from Cleo’s hand, then stood and walked the few yards over to the pulpit and up its steps.

Years ago, he’d been advised by a mentor that when giving a speech you should look for a couple of friendly faces in the audience and focus on them.

But as he laid his notes on the lectern, he was so close to tears he wasn’t sure he dared look up at the congregation. Finally, as the music faded, he risked it and looked up. The church was rammed and there were people standing at the back. And there was total silence. As his eyes roved quickly, trying and failing to spot Glenn again, he picked out the Chief Constable, Lesley Manning, as well as his new acting ACC Hannah Robinson; Bruno’s headmaster; a retired solicitor, Martin Allen, who’d given Grace and Cleo some sound advice on the legalities around bringing Bruno to England. Then, suddenly, he was thrown.

There, sitting close to the rear of the church, was the unmistakable figure of Cassian Pewe.

Grace did a double take. Was he imagining it?

Pewe gave him a knowing smile. Grace immediately and angrily looked away.

What the hell was that bastard doing here?

Completely off his stride, glancing around the packed aisles, he finally found Glenn, sitting with Siobhan and Norman, immediately behind Cleo’s family.

The utter silence held. He felt a twitching of the muscle beneath his right eye. An air of expectancy along with the expressions of sympathy on so many faces. Everyone waiting for him, and he had all the time in the world. All the time to totally screw this up. He took a deep breath, then another and looked down at his notes. Focus, he thought. Just focus. Take your time. He looked back up at where Glenn was but for a moment couldn’t locate him. Then he saw him, saw his concerned gaze. Saw his kind eyes and his you can do it smile. And he began, aware his voice sounded nervous and faltering.

‘The American poet Maya Angelou said: “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel”.’ He paused. ‘Bruno was a truly extraordinary young man, who constantly challenged our preconceptions about so many aspects of our lives and of the human condition. A small boy who was wiser, in some ways, than many people very much older. Had he lived, I’ve no idea how much he might have achieved, but I have a feeling he might have been a truly great human being. Or at the very least, as he once told his headmaster, a benign dictator!’

He smiled and it prompted laughter.

When the congregation was quiet again, Roy Grace said, ‘One of the last conversations I had with Bruno, before that morning when I dropped him off at school, was about music. He told me he was into the local artist Rag’n’Bone Man and that his favourite of his songs was “As You Are”.’

Grace’s voice choked and his eyes flooded with tears. He dabbed his eyes with his handkerchief, mumbled an apology, then took several deep breaths before continuing in faltering words. ‘Bruno wasn’t a misfit, in any conventional sense of that word. But throughout the short time that Cleo and I were lucky enough to have him with us, we always had the impression that he felt he belonged somewhere else, on some higher plane. We both hope that he has found it now, found that higher plane, found that mojo he was seeking. I suspect he has.’

Grace nodded at Smale, and moments later ‘As You Are’ began playing loudly from the speakers.

Clutching his eulogy, he climbed down from the pulpit and walked, avoiding all eyes, back to his pew and a warm, well done smile from Cleo.