All These Things I've Done (Birthright #1)(67)

I suggested that we pray for Nana together. I took Natty’s hand and knelt down by the side of the bed.

‘Say something out loud for her,’ Natty implored me. ‘That thing they read at Daddy’s funeral.’

‘You remember that?’

Natty nodded. ‘I remember a lot of things.’

‘Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me, will live even if he dies, and everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die . . .”’ I stopped. ‘I’m sorry, Natty, that’s all I know by heart.’

‘No, that was it,’ she said. ‘That was enough. It’s so beautiful, isn’t it? And it means she isn’t really dead. Not in any important way at least. It makes me feel so much less afraid somehow. Even less alone.’ There were tears in her eyes.

‘You aren’t alone, Natty. I’ll always be here for you. You know that.’ I wiped the tears from her cheeks.

‘But, Annie, what will we do now? You aren’t old enough to take care of us yet. Will Leo, then?’

‘Leo will be our guardian, yes. And I’ll go on taking care of everything else just as I always have. As far as you’re concerned, nothing will change, I swear.’ This, I realized, was how parents ended up lying to children. They promised certainties when all they had were pretty speculations. I prayed to God this would go down smoothly. ‘In fact, I should really go call Mr Kipling right now to begin making arrangements.’ There was so much to do. If I didn’t begin right away, the burden of it all might paralyse me. I took Natty by the hand and led her out of the room. I closed Nana’s door gently behind us. I went into my bedroom and immediately picked up the phone.

Mr Kipling had only recently returned to work after his heart attack. ‘Anya,’ he said, ‘I have Mr Green on the phone. He’ll be listening in from now on. It’s a precaution I’m taking in case I should have a recurrence, though I have no reason to believe this will be so.’

‘Hello, Simon,’ I said.

‘Hello, Ms Balanchine,’ Simon Green replied.

‘What can we do for you today?’ Mr Kipling asked.

‘Galina is dead.’ I kept my voice cool.

‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Mr Kipling said.

‘I am, too,’ Simon Green added.

‘She was very old.’ It had already begun to feel as if I were speaking of someone I had barely known.

‘While I’m very sorry for your loss, I also want to reassure you, Anya. As you are well aware, everything has been arranged to make this transition as simple as possible for you and your siblings.’ Mr Kipling then said that he and Simon Green would come immediately to the apartment. ‘Is Leo with you?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Good. He’ll need to be in on these discussions.’

‘I’ll make sure he stays put. Should I call the funeral home?’

‘No, no,’ Mr Kipling said. ‘We’ll arrange that.’

I hung up the phone.

I had felt as if there were a million things I needed to do, and yet, for the moment, it seemed there was nothing but to wait for Mr Kipling and Simon Green to show up.

I wanted something to do.

I thought about calling Win, but the truth was, I didn’t really want him around. This was a time for family.

I lay down on my bed.

Oh, Nana. How many times had I wished that your suffering would be over, that you would die? And how many times had I prayed for the opposite, that you might live forever or at least until I was old enough to be Natty’s legal guardian?

And here it was, that day. And I felt nothing except perhaps guilty that I felt nothing. Maybe I had seen too many hard things in my life. But then, so had Leo and Natty, and they both had cried. What was wrong with me that I could not muster a tear for my grandmother, whom I had loved and who, I know, had loved me?

The doorbell rang, which was just as well. I didn’t wish to continue along this line of thought any more.

I went to answer it: Mr Kipling and Simon Green, of course. They had made exceptionally good time.

Mr Kipling, whom I once would have described as stout, had lost a great deal of weight since his heart attack. In his present manifestation, he looked a bit like a teddy bear with the stuffing removed.

‘Annie,’ said Mr Kipling. ‘Again, I am so very sorry for your loss. Galina was a magnificent woman.’

We went to the living room to sit down. Leo was still there. He hadn’t moved since Imogen had left.

‘Leo,’ I said.

He looked at me blankly. His eyes were nearly swollen shut from crying. He didn’t remotely resemble the confident man I’d seen in the last several months, and this worried me. Come on, Leo, I thought.

I continued. ‘Mr Kipling and Mr Green are here to discuss what happens now that Nana has passed.’

Leo stood. He blew his nose on an already soggy handkerchief, then said, ‘OK, I’ll just go to my room.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘You need to stay for this. You’re a very important part of everything that’s about to happen. Come and sit next to me.’

Leo nodded. He pulled his shoulders back and walked over to the sofa and sat down. Simon Green and Mr Kipling sat in the two armchairs across the coffee table from us.