Obsession by Susan Lewis Page A

for the seemingly never-ending stream of visitors, comforted Paula and Auntie Hattie, who were as distressed, she knew, by her remoteness as they were by Edwina’s death, and listened patiently, silently, to Reverend Fox’s words of comfort.
    The truth was that Corrie, even though she had known for a long time that her mother was going to die, was, now that it had finally happened, so devastated, so paralysed by shock and torn apart with grief that she didn’t dare even to attempt to fathom the depth of her loss for fear she would drown in it.
    She never minded talking about Edwina though, but only did so with Paula or Auntie Hattie, sharing her memories with them and more often than not laughing at some little thing she remembered that had been so characteristic of her mother. She pored over old photographs, giving many of them away to those who had loved Edwina, but keeping the special ones for herself. At night she would lie alone in the house wondering if her mother was happy now. She wondered too if Edwina could see her, could hear her speaking to her. She liked to think she could.
    Edwina’s clothes were already packed, and would soon be taken to the charity shop; her medicine cabinet had been cleared and the detestable wigs and breast pads disposed of. So it wasn’t as though Corrie was refusing to accept that Edwina had gone, it was simply that she was too calm, too self-possessed, and altogether too brave, for either Hattie or Paula to rest easy.
    But now Corrie had to face perhaps the most difficult test of all. Uncle Ted, she knew, had asked her to come over to tell her the contents of her mother’s will. To Corrie’s mind this, not the funeral, would be the final contact with her mother. After today there would be nothing more, Edwina would be gone forever. And Corrie knew, because she had known her mother so well, that there would be a special message for her in the will, and she wasn’t sure she could bear to hear it. Already, as she put on her coat to cross the square, she could feel tears of desolation and loneliness simmering dangerously close to the surface.
    Uncle Ted was waiting for her at the door, ready to pull her in out of the rain and fold her into his warm embrace. Corrie rested in his arms for a moment, then kissed him on the cheek and handed her umbrella to Auntie Hattie, before following them into Uncle Ted’s library. As she sat down on the upright chair in front of his desk Ted glanced at Harriet. Her mournful expression reflected Ted’s own. She knew how difficult this meeting was going to be for her husband, yet how much worse it was going to be for Corrie. They neither of them, Ted nor Harriet, could even begin to guess how Corrie was going to take what Ted had to tell her, but both were more than a little afraid. And seeing the glassy look in Corrie’s eyes, the innocence in her wind-reddened cheeks Harriet’s heart swelled with such pity that she had to stop herself sweeping Corrie into her arms.
    Corrie watched Uncle Ted as he took his pocket watch from his waistcoat, glanced at it nervously then settled into the vast leather chair behind his desk. She waited quietly for him to begin, her eyes never leaving his face, but by now a faint shadow of confusion was creasing her brow. It was unlike Uncle Ted to be at a loss for words, but he seemed so now. He smiled awkwardly, then his eyes strayed to the leaded windows, staring out at the rain spattered garden.
    Leaning forward Corrie covered his hands with her own. ‘We can always do this another time,’ she smiled. ‘I mean, I guess Mum has left everything to me, so there’s no real need …’
    Her voice hung in the warm air as Ted looked at her. Corrie put her head quizzically to one side, then with a glint of uncertain humour in her hazel eyes said,
    ‘I take it I’m not in debt?’
    At last Ted laughed. ‘No. No, my dear, you’re certainly not in debt.’
    ‘Now there’s a relief.’
    ‘But I think you should prepare