And then Flint had come back with the drinks and sat next to Ana, and he’d run his hand over her hair and smiled at her and kissed the end of her nose and squeezed her knee, and Lol had made all sorts of extraordinary facial expressions until Ana went to the toilet a few minutes later. When she got back, Flint was checking his car and Lol had grabbed Ana’s hand and said, I’ve never seen anything like it. That man is inlurve.And Ana had blushed and said, Don’t be so ridiculous, and Lol had shaken her head and said,Never,I have never seen that man so excited to be with someone. And he could not stop smiling while you were in the loo. Kept looking over his shoulder. And grinning. What thehellhave you done to him?
Lol’s words had worked their way into her stomach and swished around and made her feel almost faint with joy. Because Lol was just confirming what she already knew. Therewassomething special going on here with Flint. Something natural and real andinevitable.She felt totally and utterly secure with Flint, never doubted his intentions, never analysed his words for hidden meanings, just accepted him exactly as he seemed. And he did everything right. He didn’t come on too strong. And he didn’t play it too cool. He did just enough to make her feel loved, protected, respected and admired, without ever making her feel trapped or tricked or vulnerable or cruel.
Ana thought about Lol’s words now, as Flint’s car pulled up to the entrance of Kensal Rise Cemetery, and a smile played on her lips. She turned to Flint and beamed and he beamed back at her. In the back of the car were Lol and Keith, Gill, Di and Amy, who’d brought Freddie in a specially bought black velvet coat.
Flint brought the car to a halt in the car park and everyone piled out. Father Anthony, the smiley and pink-cheeked vicar who was going to carry out the memorial ceremony, greeted Ana near the entrance to the crematorium with a bone-crushingly firm handshake.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘you’ve certainly chosen a lovely day for it.’ He looked upwards at the sky as if he was half-expecting to see God himself giving him the thumbs-up from a cloud. Ana introduced Anthony to everyone, and then they began the walk towards Bee’s grave.
‘A lot of the attendees are already here,’ he said, rubbing his hands together, ‘but we won’t start until everyone’s arrived. We’ve still got a few minutes.’
Ana caught her breath. She suddenly felt very responsible. She’d never really organized anything before, not even a house party. Her mother had been the queen of organization when Ana was growing up and then, when she’d left home, Hugh had always looked after all their social arrangements. He’d made all the phonecalls, planned the menus, sent out the invites. All she’d had to worry about was trying to think of something to say to Hugh’s intellectual friends that wouldn’t make her sound retarded and then doing the washing-up afterwards. But in the space of the last week she’d exchanged e-mails with Stuart Crosby, who’d put a notice up on his website with details. She’d organized for Zander to come to London with Dr Chan. And she’d invited Ed. She’d phoned him at his office, and he’d said no at first. He’d cut off all links with Bee for the sake of his family and he didn’t want to take any risks. But then he’d phoned back the next day and said he’d been thinking about it and decided that heowed Bee a last goodbye and that his wife and babies were spending that night with her mother anyway, so he’d be able to come.
Having sorted out the guest list she’d then had to decide on the blessing with Father Anthony and plan for the party afterwards, which, after many hours of heated discussion between her, Flint and Lol, was to be held at Bee’s favourite pub in Belsize Park, just next to where her old flat had been. Ana had spent that morning at the pub with Flint and Lol, decorating the function room upstairs with posters of Bee and lots of black and yellow balloons. She’d been in touch with caterers, and Lol had put a band together for her so she’d had to hire sound equipment, too, as well as writing a speech.
The outlines of a small group of people emerged as they neared the grave – men and women of varying ages and appearances. Ana caught her breath when she saw the outline of a small woman with black hair – she’d sent Gay an invitation last week and even though she knew it was highly unlikely, a small part of her was still hoping that she might be here. The woman turned round and Ana felt slightly deflated when it wasn’t her mother.
She didn’t recognize any of the other people by the grave so presumed they were fans. Bee’s fans.
‘Hi,’ she said, as she approached them, ‘I’m Ana. Thank you all so much for coming.’ They all turned to smile at her and Ana saw something in their eyes as they looked at her that made her stomach lurch. Awe. They were in awe of her. They thought she was something special because she was Bee’s sister and because she was the organizer. They thought she was a proper person. Andlooking around her now, at Flint and Lol, Ana suddenly remembered that shewasa real person, a person whose psychological stature finally matched her physical stature. They looked at her expectantly. ‘We’re just waiting for a couple more people and then we can get started. Did you all get here all right?’
Zander and Dr Chan arrived a minute later, Zander looking very smart in chinos and a black button-down shirt. And then finally Ed arrived, looking flustered and with a small shred of tissue clinging to a shaving nick on his chin. He smiled grimly at Ana and Flint and looked hideously uncomfortable.
Father Anthony cleared his throat and began the blessing.
‘Well,’ he started, ‘I have to say that I have never before performed a memorial service so shortly after a funeral, but I understand that there were those among you who were unaware of Bee’s passing, or unable to attend for other reasons. I think that the old cliché of “better late than never” is quite apt in this situation, because it really never is too late to celebrate the life of someone who has touched us, in whatever way. I see amongst you friends and family. Also here are neighbours, business associates and admirers. You are a wide and disparate cross section of people, but you all have one thing in common. The departed touched you in some way during her short life, and in a way that has changed you profoundly and for ever. I understand from Ana that Bee’s life was sometimes tragic and often very lonely. That she still managed to exert such positivity on those around her is a testament to her vibrant personality and her love of people. Let ussay a prayer now for Bee and ask for God’s help in providing her with an afterlife that makes up for the shortcomings of her earthly life. May God bless her soul …’
Father Anthony made the sign of the cross. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘Ana has asked to say a few words about her sister, not about her life which, as I have already said, was not always a happy passage through time, but about her. But first, I am sure that there are others who would like the opportunity to say something. Please feel free to say whatever you wish. Anyone?’ He looked round the guests encouragingly. ‘Ah, good,’ he said, as someone moved towards him. It was Stuart, shuffling nervously towards the head of the grave clutching a piece of paper. He cleared his throat.
‘I wasn’t sure whether I was going to read this or not, after I wrote it. It’s very sentimental and it’ll make me look a right wimp. But anyway, here goes.’ He grinned and cleared his throat again. ‘I was fifteen years old the first time I saw Bee. She was performing “Groovin’ for London” onTop of the Pops. I have to admit that it was love at first sight.’ He smiled apologetically at his wife and everyone sniggered a bit. ‘She had so much energy and so much bare-faced confidence in front of the camera. I was a shy kid back then. I didn’t have many friends and Bee just seemed to me to be everything that I wasn’t. And she was also stunningly beautiful and wearing a very short skirt, which didn’t hurt.’ He grinned again.
‘I became a huge fan. Used to follow her wherever she went. And then one day she came over to me at a record-shop signing and she said, “You again?”, and Inearly fell over. I started stuttering and shaking and I must have been the colour of a beetroot. “I’m a really big fan,” I said. And I thought she’d just shrug it off because she was used to that sort of thing, but I remember she looked really pleased. And then she turned round to her bodyguard’ – he smiled and turned towards Flint – ‘this guy here, in fact. And asked him to take my address so that she could send me some signed photos. So I gave it to him and never thought I’d hear another thing. Then three days later thishugeparcel turns up at my house. I opened it, and it was just full of stuff. A T-shirt, picture disc, about twenty signed photos, pens, rubbers, stickers. Just – everything. And a handwritten note from Bee saying that she’d look out for me in future and that if I ever wanted anything I should just write to her via her management company and she’d see what she could do. I mean – can you imagine? There’s me, a spotty, unconfident fifteen-year-old, and this beautiful, famous popstar has taken the time and trouble to get in touch.’ He shook his head, his face displaying his disbelief, fifteen years later.
‘I met Bee quite a few times over the course of that year or so and she was never anything but gracious, charming, warm and generous. And then, of course, her father became ill and she dropped out of the music business. I grew up, too, and my spots went away and I developed other interests. But she was a really important part of my youth. Knowing that I knew her, that I was accepted by her, changed me radically as a person. So when I bought my first PC, a few years ago, I pulled all my old Bee Bearhorn memorabilia from the loft, and for a few weeks I was obsessed again, as I went through all this stuff. Andout of all that old paper, all those old memories, came the Bee Bearhorn website. It was really just for me. I didn’t think anyone else would have much interest. But here you all are. It’s nice to know that I’m not the only sad old loser out there.’ He smiled and turned the paper over.
‘I hadn’t really thought much about Bee over the past few years. But when Ana got in touch last week and told me about Bee – I cried. I can’t believe I’m telling you all that. But I did. And it was completely unexpected. And I think it’s because when Bee died, a little part of me went with her. Because she was the only person who made me feel like anything when I was an awkward adolescent. And for that, for me, she will for ever be, unforgettable. May her soul rest in peace.’ He bowed his head and refolded his paper and shuffled back to his wife, who squeezed his hand reassuringly.
Father Anthony looked round for another volunteer, and smiled when he saw Zander wheeling himself towards him.
He eyed the group confidently and began reading. ‘Hi. My name is Zander. And I’m Bee’s secret …’
Ana put her hand to her face in horror and went to step towards Zander, but Flint held her back. ‘It’s fine,’ he whispered, ‘it’s fine.’
‘I’m Bee’s secret friend. My family were killed in a car crash in 1986. The same car crash which injured me and put me in this chair. Bee read about my plight in the papers, and for years she followed my progress. Secretly. When I was ten she started sending me postal orders for large sums of money at Christmas. And I never knew who they were from. And then, one day, in 1997, this womanturned up at the home where I’ve lived for the last sixteen years. She was very small and very pretty and she told me she was my aunt. I knew she wasn’t my aunt, but they’re quite strict at my home about people from the outside having access to us. So she made up this stupid story. Apparently, she even managed to come up with some kind of paperwork to prove it. I don’t know to this day how she managed it. But I did know that I liked her, instantly. That she was different. That she was refreshing. That she was on my wavelength. And that was a novelty for me because I’d never met anyone on my wavelength before. So eventually I got the truth out of her …’
Ana tensed.
‘ … and it emerged that her life had been very empty since she lost her precious father toAIDSin 1988. She’d never quite found the enthusiasm to resume her career. She’d taken a lot of knocks and her confidence had been eroded. She had all this money so she never really needed to test herself, to see what else life could offer her. So I became Bee’s project. She came to visit every weekend and we’d go out for walks if it was fine or just sit in my room watching telly together if it was raining. I loved watching telly with Bee. She was such a bitch. We’d just sit there and pick everyone to pieces, talk about their hair or their accents or how stupid they were. I know that’s not very Christian,’ he looked at Father Anthony, ‘but it was fun. And I’d never really had fun before. Not that sort of fun, anyway. And then, after a few months of these visits, Bee did something incredible for me. She bought us a house. A little house, by the sea. And every weekend, she would leave London behind her,her friends and her social life, and she’d drive down to the coast and hang out with me. Me. An annoying little kid in a wheelchair. And it was great. We’d cook together. And listen to music. I wasn’t really that into music before I met Bee, but she really turned me around on that one. She’d bring three videos with her every week – always a comedy, a thriller and an action film. And we’d chat and laugh. Make up names for all the numbskulls in the village. Spy on the neighbours with our binoculars and take the piss out of them. I got her into bird-watching and board games. She got me into trainers and Teenage Fanclub. And she treated me like the most normal person in the universe. That was what was so special about my times with Bee. I felt normal. And special. Abnormally special. But especially normal. She gave me the self-confidence I’d been pretending I already had for the thirteen years before I met her. She broke down all my façades and replaced them with something substantial. And I know that I’ll never meet anyone like Bee again as long as I live and that makes me feel very, very sad. I’m just really glad I knew her at all. There was a song on the radio this morning, a Janet Jackson song called “Together Again”. It was all about someone being dead and how that person lived on through other people’s smiles and in the stars and such. I just have to say at this point and in order to maintain any semblance of cool, that I really don’t like Janet Jackson. But to Ms Jackson’s credit, it was a truly joyous song and it was really comforting to me, to think of Bee being everywhere, to think of Bee being a star shining down on me. Bee was always more of a force than a person anyway. Thank you.’ He smirked and tucked hispaper in his pocket and bowed his head before wheeling himself back to Dr Chan, who smiled at him affectionately.
‘Er – thank you, too, Zander,’ said Father Anthony with a hint of confusion in his voice. ‘So. Anyone else?’ But no one came forward. He caught Ana’s eye and beckoned her. Ana took a deep breath and pulled a tightly folded piece of paper from her bag. She smoothed it out with sweaty fingers.
‘Bee,’ she began, ‘was my sister. But Bee was a stranger. I have only come to know Bee in the past fortnight – through the people here today. Through your stories and your emotions. To me, Bee was a mirage, but to you she was real, and I now know that to all of us she was a mystery. I have experienced every possible emotion getting to know Bee over the past weeks. Joy on finding the same records in her collection as I have in mine. Confusion on finding her life devoid of emotional depth. Deep and instantaneous love on meeting her closest friends. Sadness on learning of the tragedy and pain in her life, which she shared with no one. Pride on encountering the love and loyalty she inspired in others. And shame on finding that she was so much more than I’d allowed myself to imagine her to be.
‘Bee was not a straightforward woman. Bee was not aneasywoman. Bee was a dichotomy. She was sweet and sour. Happy and sad. Good and bad. High and low. Nasty and nice. She could bring the best out of people and inspire them. But she could also intimidate and crush. She was loyal to her friends but indifferent to her family. She could take a huge interest in a person and then forget their birthday. She was private. She was self-sufficient. Shewas independent. But she was closed. And guarded. And dismissive. She made mistakes. And went far out of her way to pay for them. She was beautiful. But she depended on more than beauty to make her way through life. She was unattainable and she was distant, but she was emotional and giving. She was an inspiration and a disappointment. She was everything and nothing.
‘But Bee,’ she continued, ‘was Bee. And just being Bee was enough, because Bee was special and Bee was unforgettable. Bee was my sister … God bless her soul.’
She cleared her throat, refolded the damp piece of paper and edged her way back to Flint, keeping her eyes to the ground. Flint immediately put an arm around her shoulder. She felt another hand squeeze her arm, and when she looked up, she saw Lol, smiling crookedly at her with big tears plopping off the end of her nose. ‘That was beautiful,’ she mouthed, before launching herself at Ana and hugging the life out of her. Ana hugged her back and then felt tears dampening her own cheeks.