Fully English

CHAPTER 45

When we arrive at the service, there is no police presence. Everyone is in black and wearing expressions just as their clothing. It's clear nobody anticipated the arrival of this many guests because there is nobody at the door to usher everybody in. Girls teeter on sky-high heels as they enter the church, bodies slight as they saunter to the church pews. Both Reece and I have arrived at just the right time: there are enough people around us that we blend into the bustling crowd without a hitch.

Hand in hand, we are in the car but we quickly remember our place once the car pulls up. I am supposed to be in love with George. Our hands detach and Reece keeps his distance as we find places to sit. The service will begin any second now and I can sense a wave of calm descend upon the entire room when a priest arrives at the centre of the stage. Theatrically, he makes a cross gesture with his hands and all of us follow – believers and non-believers alike. It is so silent you could hear not a penny but a money note drop from the silence: paper rustling against flooring would sound like heavy metal in this silence.

In fear I'll be recognised, I don't look around for faces I recognise. My eyes train straight ahead at the priest, hair cascading to hide my profile, until the Levantine family reach the stage and I find my head bowing. Heather's sniffles echo as she clanks to the microphone: Sandra and Ainsley in tow. Mr Levantine is nowhere in sight as she delivers her eulogy to her precious oldest son.

Her words are so captivating that I forget where I am for a moment. This is George Levantine's funeral. Metres away from me, he is here, lying in an expensive coffin. I know that if I process the situation fully I will collapse and so I hold onto Reece's arm for support and try to let my mind wander for a few moments.

Breathe.

Ainsley then takes the microphone and that's when sobbing from somewhere in the crowd begins to bubble. An elderly man with a walking stick is blubbering away and next to him is George's dad. Those must be the two seniors. I look away to keep from bawling and focus on Ainsley's pleasant story of being George's little brother, all that he meant to him and how he will continue his legacy.

When it is Sandy's turn, there is a change in atmosphere. Her face is sour when the microphone is put in her face and she crumples the paper in her hands into a ball. Defiant and emotional, she refuses to speak and throws it away from herself. Ainsley rushes to grab and unfold it but she is having none of it and the two begin to tussle.

Flustered, Heather grabs the microphone.

"If George were here, he would have given them a right talking to." The audience laugh painfully and a relative appears to escort the two youngest Levantines from the stage. "I'd now like to introduce George's best friend to the stage."

I am half-expecting to see Otis amble to the microphone but I don't. Instead a tall white man I do not recognise thanks Heather for the introduction and begins to speak.

Hands positioned behind his back, I watch this slightly long-haired, brunette boy command the attention of the audience with a measured but resonant voice.

"Hello everyone," he says formally. "I am Bernard, I've been George's best friend since we were toddlers."

Indeed I am shocked but not surprised. In my mind, George had always been this lovable rogue, urban and a little rough around the edges but that had all been a façade, or rather a development of his character. He wasn't born into the life or vernacular that he sported. He merely adopted it to fit in.

Bernard shakes his head and pushes the hair from his eyes as he tells the story of when he and George met as kids in private nursery: how they were drawn to one another and later became best buddies. Competitors in class and in the dating world, Bernard always seemed to champion the first but just by a few marks. George however, being the Casanova he was, out-marked Bernard in the love scene by many miles.