Goodbye, Farewell and Amen – Part 2

Friday 11^th November

Lovibond and Bird, Solicitors

London

11.30 am GMT

“Mrs Brand,” Raymond Hunter said as he shook Grace’s hand, “I trust the service went well?”

“Everything ran very smoothly,” Grace said as she and Mary removed their coats, Grace in a dark grey dress coat and Mary wearing a black blouse and skirt with a cardigan, “and now comes the next stage.”

“Indeed. If you will come in here, we have coffee and other refreshments ready for people as they come in,” he said as he opened the door to a large meeting room, Mary smiling as she saw the large tea urn.

“Let me guess, my Fiona stipulated that had to be there as well?”

“It was part of her instructions,” Raymond said with a smile, “I will have my secretary show the other people in as they arrive.”

“Well, one last time,” Grace said as he left, closing the door behind himself as she walked to the urn, and poured two mugs out, handing one to Mary. Taking a sip, she smiled when she heard Anna Mitchell say “typical – even in her death, the tea has to be on.”

“Want a cup,” Mary said as she smiled at Anna and Juliette. They both accepted a cup and sat at the conference table, smiling as Mary said “I hope this does not take too long, I have to get to the Cathedral.”

“As do we all,” Anna said as the door was opened again, the four of them looking over as Kylie pushed Jeanne into the room.

“Oh lord, the tea is on,” Jeannie said as the others laughed. “Our mothers are waiting outside,” Kylie said as she sat down, “so who else are we expecting?”

“I’m not quite sure,” Juliette said as the door opened, and Linda Evangelista came in, removing her gloves as she did so. “I stopped at the cathedral before I came here – the place is already busy,” she said as she sat down.

As she did so the door opened again and two women came in, Mary standing and coming over as she said “Norma – recovered from yesterday?”

“It’ll take a while,” Norma MacKenzie said as she smiled, “you remember Mrs Coombes?”

“Of course – you found her,” Mary said as she held the hands of the housekeeper. The grey haired woman nodded slowly, as the door opened to admit one last person.

“Agnes – so you are named in the will as well,” Juliette said as she came over and kissed her friend.

“Or something,” Agnes said as Raymond Hunter came in.

“Please, everyone, get some tea and take a seat,” he said as he sat down, and removed a document from a manila folder. As they looked at each other, he put on a pair of glasses and looked round the room.

“We are gathered here today to hear the last Will and Testament of Fiona MacKenzie,” he said quietly. “I am required to tell you by law that this is a properly signed and attested document, and that a copy had been lodged with the appropriate authorities.

“To begin… I, Fiona MacKenzie, being of sound will and mind do decree that upon my death, the following actions should be undertaken and bequests made. I have appointed Grace Gresham-Fox Brand to act as the legal executor for the following actions.

“I leave to Siobhan Coombes, who has worked as my cleaner and housekeeper for so many years, a bequest of five thousand pounds in thanks for her assistance to me.”

Mrs Coombes looked shocked as the solicitor continued.

“To my sister, Norma, I leave my jewellery, including the items bequeathed to me by our mother, in the hope they will bring her some comfort and bring back happy memories.”

Norma wiped away a tear as Raymond continued.

“To Jeannie Brewster, Baby Supermodel, I know of her passion for the history of fashion, and so I leave to her my collection of magazines and books, that they may be a resource for her future study.

“And to Kylie Mitchell, the biggest surprise I had the pleasure of meeting these last few years, I leave my fashion photographs and plates for her own inspiration.”

“Oh my,” Kylie whispered as she looked at Jeannie, who was wiping a tear away.

“I have three specific instructions to make about my documents and records. To my oldest friend, Mary Thomas, I bequeath my index cards, and ask her to ensure they are distributed, forwarded and filed as she feels is appropriate. Any she feel cannot be distributed, either because the person concerned is no longer with us or no relatives can be traced, are to fall under the third part of this bequest.”

“Well, that answers one question,” Grace whispered to Mary as she nodded.

“Secondly, one of the things I undertook while I was ill was to finish a memoir that I had been writing," the solicitor said before he looked up. "It is I'm led to believe actually a fine portrait of both her and the people she knew, and a commentary on the fashion industry that she so loved."

"I wondered if she had written something," Mary Thomas smiled.

"Well," the man adjusted his glasses, "she has requested that the Princess Juliette von Furstenheim act as her literary executor, undertaking such editing of the manuscript as she sees fit, and hopefully arranging for its publication."

"I hopefully will be able to do that in the way she would have approved," Juliette nodded.

"Such profits as are generated, Fiona hoped would be put to a use that you feel appropriate and worthy Your Highness," the lawyer smiled. “To return to the actual text, finally I ask Juliette to take on the role of arranging for my documents and diaries, including any remaining cards from my index, to be donated to an institution which can make use of those records.”

“That… That is an amazing responsibility, thank you,” Juliette said quietly.

“I want my gowns and other special clothing to be donated to the Victoria and Albert Museum, and I ask Anna Mitchell if she will take on the role of arranging for that to take place. All other clothing is to be donated to homeless charities save that which cannot be reused.”

Anna nodded slowly as Raymond adjusted his glasses. “I also wish to leave the sum of ten thousand pounds to the Girl Guide movement as a bequest.”

“I still don’t understand why we’re here,” Agnes whispered to Linda.

“Finally, I wish the remainder of my estate, after taxes and other expenses, to be split into two equal shares. One half, I wish to be used to establish a fund to support two fashion students - one to attend the London School of Fashion, the other the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York, in the form of full scholarships. I ask my dear friends Mary Thomas, Linda Evangelista, Anna Mitchell and Juliette Huntington to act as the executors of this fund.

“The second half, I bequeath to Agnes McAdam, to support the work she does for those who need the help the most in London.”

Agnes stared at the solicitor, as he said “well, that completes the will. You should know that, after expenses and the other bequests, the conservative estimate of the balance is one million pounds.”

“Total,” Agnes breathed.

“No – each.”

"Dear God!" Agnes heard the words escape her lips involuntarily as she looked round the room, "that is beyond generous."

"I think,” Mr Hunter said as he folded his glasses and put them away, “she was looking for a way to use her own fortune to help the young people she so believed in, and that she saw your school, and the help it gives to so many disadvantaged and wounded children, as a way to achieving something very worthwhile with her money."

"I barely knew her," Aggie shook her head.

"Well she knew you Dr McAdam, I believe that over the years she made several anonymous donations."

"Mrs Stonehaven...That was her?" Agnes made a connection.

"I believe that was the alias she used."

“I… I don’t know what to say…”

“Well, my duty is done, save to facilitate the various payments through Mrs Brand. Expect to hear from her in due course – please, fell free to talk,” he said as he stood up and left the room.

As the door closed, Jeannie looked round, before saying "I can't believe that she left me her books and magazines."

"She loved your passion for fashion history Jeannie," Merlin said as she held the disabled girls hand, "and I know from what she said that she thought you'd be the person to get the best use from them."

"Why did she leave me her collection of photographs and illustrations?" Kylie looked like she was in shock.

"Again she couldn't think of anyone who would put them to better use."

“Can we come in?”

“Ai,” Mary said as she saw Barbara and Sami standing in the doorway, “these girls just got a bit of a shock – and ye may need a new storeroom Barbara.

"Will it be possible to find a publisher for Fiona's book Ju?" Grace said as she sat with her friend.

"I think the publishing houses will probably be fighting for the right Grace. I just need to manage it correctly so as to maximize the income for what I have in mind."

"You have an idea already?"

"A rough one, I need to talk to some people and see if it is practical."

"Anything you want to share?"

"Maybe in a couple of days," Juliette laughed lightly. “I need to see a woman about a book anyway. Anna – this fund…”

“I know,” Anna said quietly, “I’ll set up a meeting with the four of us – including you Mother – over the next couple of weeks…”

"I think we will be leaning on your expertise Ju."

"My what Mother? Oh you mean from the Kirkham Scholarship?"

“Precisely – but we can talk later. We all should get going for the next event…”

1 pm GMT

St Paul’s Cathedral

“This is Jeanne Beckmann, and I welcome you to a very special edition of the Beckmann report.”

Jeanne looked at the camera as she stood on the steps of the famous cathedral, a dark coat fastened round her as she looked round.

“As our viewers will be aware, the funeral was held yesterday of Fiona MacKenzie, the renowned fashion editor – and today, the fashion world is gathering to pay their respects and share their memories at this memorial service. With the kind permission of the Dean and Chapter of St Pauls, we will be bringing you the service, but for the next hour we will try to talk to people as they arrive, to get their memories and talk about the influence Fiona had on their lives…”

Inside the main doors, David MacDonald stood in his dark suit with a group of women, all of them wearing black jackets over charcoal grey dresses, dark tights and heels.

“Thank you for undertaking the task of welcoming people today,” he said as he looked at them.

“It is our honour and privilege,” Sigi said as she stood with Paula Gaunt, Eve Stone, Grace Coddington, Twiggy and Jerry Hall. “I understand the orders of service have already been distributed on the pews?”

“Indeed,” David said as he handed each of them a large booklet, a picture of Fiona’s smiling face on the front and underneath written “Fiona MacKenzie: A Celebration and Remembrance.” Eve flipped through, and smiled as she said “well, at least we know what’s coming.”

“Indeed,” Grace said as she glanced out of the doors, “and the first people are arriving…”

“Anna – thank you for joining us today,” Anna Mitchell said as she greeted the white haired Queen of Vogue at the foot of the stairs.

“Of course I am here – and it is good to see all of you here,” Anna Wintour said as she looked at Pippa and the other editors. “With Grace among the people acting to welcome us, would you object if I was to join you?”

“Never,” Anna said as they linked arms and started to walk up the stairs.

"How did the reading of the will go?" Marina asked as she and Kylie were ushered to their seats. "Did she leave you something?"

“You could say that,” Kylie said quietly as they sat down.

“So? What did she bequeath to you?”

"Her collection of fashion photographs and prints darling...Not something I was expecting."

"Wow!" Marina stood and paused a second, "She must have really thought something of you to leave those to you."

"It's wot I told 'er," Sammi slipped into the pew besides Gio and Kerry.

"I think she thought they might provide me with images to refer to in my own designs."

"So if she left you all that, wot did she leave Jeans?" Gio asked.

"Her collection of books and magazines darling, and believe me Jeannie is just as stunned as I am."

"I bet she is," Kerry smiled.

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not Paula, she has left a substantial amount to support young students in many ways.”

"How typical of Fiona that she used her will to give aid and inspiration to others," the Duchess of Lardarn smiled as she and her family stood waiting in the cathedral entrance.

"It is indeed darling," Tom Lardarn smiled, "scholarships, gifts to her young proteges, it was all very much what anyone who knew Fiona would have expected."

"Oi hear Aggie McAdam was knocked for six by the bequest to her school," Stephen Stone grinned."

"Even more so by the fact that Fiona had been donating anonymously for several years," Paula nodded to some old friends, "Tam said she was in shock when she phoned her to tell her."

“I would imagine that is the case…”

“Agnes – you made it, darling,” Mandy said as she made room for Agnes to slip past her and Will, to join Donald and the girls.

“You look as if you are still in shock,” Donald said as she sat down.

“Probably because I still am – I take it you have heard some of the details of her will?”

“We have indeed,” Will said, “quite something…”

He looked round and noticed a tall, grey haired woman that Eve showed into a pew at the side. It took him a few minutes to recognise her…

"Is that Madame Bonnier?" Will whispered to his brother.

"I believe it is," Donald said after he had stared for a second, "I wonder what she is doing here."

"Wonder what who is doing here Dad?" Laura followed her father's eye line till she spotted the older, but stunningly well-dressed and chic, woman he was looking at.

"I wonder how she knew Fiona?" Donald pursed his lips as he thought about that.

"Who is she Dad?"

"Oh that lady is the widow of Pierre Bonnier who was at one time France's prime minister darling."

"Okay, but why has Aunt Mary just gone pale as a ghost when she spotted her?"

Donald looked back to where Juliette was sitting next to Mary, and saw the look on her face as she sat there.

"I saw that as well," Will spoke softly, "I wonder if this all relates back to Paris?"

"Well you were there Bro," Donald looked at his sibling, "don't you know?"

“Not a sausage of an idea – Mandy, my love, do you know any reason why Madame Bonnier would be here, and why Mary would look so shocked to see her?”

“Who, darling?”

“Such an august occasion,” Guy said as he and Valeria walked down the aisle with Sigi – and then he saw the woman sitting in the side aisle, as did his consort.

"Mon Dieu! Why is Maxine here?" Valeria all but hissed in Guy's ear, "this isn't going to get messy is it?"

"I hope not," the Duc sighed, "perhaps I need go and talk to her?"

As Valeria nodded, he said to Sigi “forgive me, my dear, but I see a very old friend. Would it be too disruptive if we joined her?”

“Of course not,” Sigi said as they moved to the side, the woman turning and then standing as she recognised them.

“Guy – and Valeria. It has been far too long since I have seen both of you,” she said as she kissed them both on the cheeks. “Will you join me?”

“It would be our pleasure,” Guy said as they sat down, “but I must say, we are surprised to see you here. Have you seen Mary Thomas?”

“In passing – but not to talk too. That is a task I shall face later…”

“Maxine, dear,” Valeria said quietly, “forgive me for being blunt, but are you here to cause trouble?”

“Ah, I always admired your directness,” Maxine Bonnier said with a smile. “No, I am not here to cause trouble. I am here to say goodbye to a great and dear woman.”

“But we three are the only ones who know the truth, oui?”

Maxine nodded as she smiled. "Guy Cherie, Fiona and I shared Pierre's love for all those years, and at no time did she ever attempt to break up my marriage, or to cause a scandal. She was in many ways the perfect mistress and thanks to her discretion Pierre's reputation never suffered the hint of a blemish. She didn't even attend his funeral, she waited till everyone had gone I was told before she went to the grave side. I owed her the courtesy of coming here today and saying goodbye."

“That I understand – stay with us, my dear…”

"Did Fiona really know all these people?" Fiona's sister looked round in amazement as Grace showed her and her husband to a prominent seat.

"Most of them," Grace smiled, "she touched a lot of people's lives you know."

“I knew she was well known, but… Is that the Duchess of Cornwall?”

“It is,” Grace said as the grey haired woman walked over, the two women giving a small curtsey. “Your highness, allow me to introduce Norma MacKenzie, Fiona’s sister, and her husband Douglas.”

“Please,” Camilla said as she held the other woman’s hands, “accept the condolences of both myself and my husband. Her death is a great loss to all of us….”

“Okay, Miss Thomas, I have a question,” Juliette whispered as more and more people came in.

“Ai? And that question is?”

"Mary I had a quick look at the manuscript and there are several references to a man she identifies as P. Did Fiona have a lover that none of us knew about?"

"Ju,” Mary said as she tuned, a shocked expression on her face, “how would I know?"

"You'd know because neither of you kept secrets from the other Mary Thomas. More to the point, I recognised who is sitting with Guy and Valeria – and so did you."

Looking quickly round, Mary whispered "If I tell you, then I need your solemn promise Juliette Huntingdown that you never reveal this to a soul. Do you promise me Ju?"

"I guess I do..."

"DO YOU PROMISE ME?"

"Yes I promise darling,” Juliette whispered, surprised by the stern tone in her old friend’s voice, “now who the hell was P and what was Fiona's relationship to him?"

"Have you never wondered why Fiona never appeared to have a man in her life?"

"I used to, but I gave up speculating years ago. Why?"

"It wasn't because she was asexual as a lot of people thing. Fiona was actually a very sensual woman."

"Really? That shocks me a bit."

"She was also the 'other woman' in an epic love triangle."

It was Juliette’s turn to look stunned as Mary said “for over thirty years, there was one man in her life – but she told no-one except me, and Guy – and Valeria obviously knows as well.”

It took a few minutes before Juliette realised what Mary was saying, before she whispered “no…”

"In many ways it was an unusual relationship. Often the mistress is the glamorous one, but in this case Maxine was the beautiful and sophisticated one, Fiona in comparison was always more inclined to stay out of the spotlight, slightly dowdier, more of the home body."

"I can't say that I've heard of that often," Juliette muttered as she shook her head.

"Fiona would cook for him, and they'd have quiet evenings in her flat in Paris, or her place here in London. Pierre always said it allowed him to relax and put away the cares of a politician's life." Mary smiled, "well as you remember Fiona was never a great one for being out in the public eye."

"No she very much preferred the quiet life."

"And it’s what she gave Pierre. As the public facing politician, Maxine was the backbone, but Fiona was the quiet strength behind him."

“And Maxine knew?”

“Oh yes – but she recognised Fiona was something she was not.”

As the cathedral filled up, people could see at the front three pictures set up on stands. They showed Fiona at three times in her life, the young fashion writer, the middle aged style consultant in Paris, and Fiona as Abby really knew her, with her mug of tea by her side, smiling as she sat at her desk.

Eventually, David MacDonald came to the front, spread his arms out and said “welcome, everyone, to this special and sombre occasion. To open the service, please welcome Nicola Benedetti.”

The congregation watched as the blonde violinist came forward, wearing a black dress, and started to play the theme from Schindler’s List. Juliette closed her eyes as the music filled the cathedral, a few people dabbing their eyes as she continued.

“Such a beautiful piece of music,” Eve said quietly to herself as she listened, Stephen holding her hand as she did so.

As the music stopped, Nicola came to the microphone and said “I want to thank you for allowing me to say thank you to Fiona, who was a great supporter of me in my early days.” She turned and smiled at the pictures, before she left to take her seat.

The congregation then watched as Anna Mitchell slowly walked to the lectern, and looked round at the assembled congregation. Finally, she said “if Fiona was here right now, I suspect she would be with Mary, telling all of you to stop moaning and get on with what you had to do.

“But, sadly, she is not here – and that is the reason we are here today, to remember her, share our memories of her, and to tell her in our own way how much we loved here. I know I have so much I wish I could say to her now, so forgive me if I take the opportunity, here at the start, to offer my words.

“I still remember when I first met Fiona – Mary Thomas, who I am sure will share much, much more later, had joined the team and was going to help man the Paris bureau, and as the Fashion Editor I had to go to Paris anyway, so I offered to fly over with her. It was only when we were on the plane that Mary asked me who was the head of the bureau, and when I said it was someone called Fiona MacKenzie, the smile on her face was a sight to behold. So I asked Mary if she knew her – and that was the first time I learned some of the stories that have become part of the Mary Thomas legend.

“So anyway – we arrive, I spend the rest of the morning getting some sleep, and then Mary knocks on my door and says to come down to the bar. When I walk down, there she is, sitting next to this flame haired woman with the biggest smile and the strangest dress sense – wearing a long grey cardigan over a white peasant blouse and a grey skirt. She stands up, looks at me and says ‘well, at least you got a decent job noo. Ah’m Fiona – pleased to meet ya.’

“I didn’t know then just what I was witness to – but in the years since, we all have benefited from, being thankful, cursed and blessed in equal measure that tag team. And by God, we’ve all enjoyed the ride, but now it is going to be different. In closing, let me say this. I have known Fiona since then as a compatriot, a colleague, a friend – and yes, in this last few months as her boss, but the thing I am going to miss most is her smile, her enthusiasm – and that blasted tea urn!”

There was a round of laughter as Anna smiled, and said “now, to read the first lesson, I invite Topaz – Queen Teresa of Ruritania, to come up.”

As Teri came to the lectern, she said “Fiona never spoke too much of her love of the arts, but when it came to Scotland’s national poet, she was a true lover. I want to read one of his songs to one of the most important things in his life – the women.

“O bonie was yon rosy brier,

That blooms sae far frae haunt o' man;

And bonie she, and ah, how dear!

It shaded frae the e'enin sun.

“Yon rosebuds in the morning dew

How pure, amang the leaves sae green;

But purer was the lover's vow

They witness'd in their shade yestreen .

“All in its rude and prickly bower

That crimson rose how sweet and fair;

But love is far a sweeter flower

Amid life's thorny path o' care.

“The pathless, wild and wimpling burn,

Wi' Chloris in my arms, be mine;

And I the warld nor wish nor scorn,

Its joys and griefs alike resign.”

Guy noticed a tear in Maxine’s eye as Teri stepped back, making room for Mary Thomas to come up.

“Yesterday,” she said quietly, “I said goodbye to my oldest friend in this world we occupy – and today I come to celebrate her, all she taught me, and all she did for us. In particular, I am reminded of what she taught me about how to view fashion.

“To Fiona the products produced by the fashion industry fell into four distinct categories. Things were either good or bad, and within those two categories they would then be either popular, or unpopular. Her particular hate was things that she considered bad, but that the buying public made popular. She hated seeing millions of women's buying items that failed her simple test, 'Is this something I'd still feel good wearing in five years time'?"

As the congregation laughed, Mary said “but she was right in that respect – as anyone who saw what she would wear to even the most formal of events would testify. In particular – and I can say this now, knowing where it will be going – her dark green formal gown. I first remember seeing her wearing it at a party in 1978 – and the last time was at young Abby’s party.

“For those who may not have heard the news, part of Fiona’s will has bequeathed her gowns to the Victoria and Albert Museum – and I am sure they will show the same respect for them as she did for everything she did. I… I will miss her, and I pray that if she’s watching us now, she forgives us for showing how much… How much…”

Anna came forward and helped Mary as she started crying, while the next speaker came forward. Eve Pollard stood there, in her dark jacket and skirt, and waited for a moment before she said “I guess I was there when Fiona first started in the fashion business, back in those days up in Dundee. It may have been a very different world, and certainly not one for women as such, especially in that hothouse.

“Having said that, and probably because she knew exactly what the management would be like, Fiona very much made her presence felt, in the style of the magazine, and in the way we did the articles. Remember, this was just after the Glam rock era, and we were dealing with Rollermaniacs, with the Donny vs David fight, and all sorts of other things.

“But Fiona was a calm, stabilising influence through all that, and as such she made her mark – and continued to make her mark as she moved on and up. She also made contacts that lasted a lifetime – maybe not on the Mary Thomas level,” she said as a ripple of laughter went round the congregation, “but one of them wanted to come and pay his respects with us today.

“Please, welcome David Essex.”

The white haired musician and actor sat on a stool, playing the guitar as he started to sing.

“The nights are colder now
Maybe I should close the door
And anyway the snow has covered all your footsteps
And I can follow you no more
The fire still burns at night
My memories are warm and clear
But everybody knows it's hard to be alone at this time of year

It was only a winter's tale
Just another winter's tale
And why should the world take notice
Of one more love that's failed?
A love that could never be
Though it meant a lot to you and me
On a world-wide scale we're just another winter's tale

While I stand alone
A bell is ringing far away
I wonder if you hear, I wonder if you're listening
I wonder where you are today
Good luck, I wish you well
For all that wishes may be worth
I hope that love and strength
Are with you for the length of your time on Earth

It was only a winter's tale
Just another winter's tale
And why should the world take notice
Of one more love that's failed?
It's a love that could never be
Though it meant a lot to you and me
On a world-wide scale we're just another winter's tale

It was only a winter's tale
Just another winter's tale
And why should the world take notice
Of one more love that's failed?
It's a love that could never be
Though it meant a lot to you and me
On a world-wide scale we're just another winter's tale”

The applause rang out as David inclined his head, and led Eve away from the lectern as Eve Stone came forward, standing in front of the bible.

“I read from the Gospel of John, the fourteenth chapter, reading from Verse 1.

“Jesus said to his disciples: ‘Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?

“And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way to the place where I am going.’

“Thomas said to him, ‘Lord, we do not know where you are going.
How can we know the way?’

“Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life.

“And from the second letter to Timothy…

“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. From now on there is reserved for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give to me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have longed for his appearing.”

As she left the lectern, a number of other models, including Twiggy and Grace Jones, came forward and shared of their experiences with Fiona.

"Did Fiona really have enemies?" Caroline whispered in Karen's ear, "so many people saying such wonderful things."

"Oh she had a few darling. A lot of people would get annoyed with her from time to time because she was never afraid to give you an honest opinion. She'd tell you what she thought in no uncertain terms, but for all that Fiona was never malicious."

"I remember her opinions," Caroline laughed softly.

"So people might disagree with her, but very seldom did disagreements turn into long-term breakdown in friendships."

Caroline nodded as she saw Alex Norton come to the front.

“Believe it or not,” the actor said, “for all the fame I had with Taggart, and also Two Doors Down, the most fun I ever had on television was when I joined Brian Cant, Jeremy Irons and others on a little show called Play Away – and it was through meeting Chloe Ashcroft and Carol Chell I met Fiona.

“She was a great encourager of me, and so I wanted to take part today – by reading one of her favourite poems.

“Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

“Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

“Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

“Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

“Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

“And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

There was a muted round of applause as David MacKenzie came forward, and started to preach a short homily.

The congregation watched as Jack Linklater, accompanied by Luke and John, walked forward and stood at the lectern.

“Well, this is a situation you’re, please lord, very rarely going to find me in,” Jack finally said as he looked up and round. “Many people believe the fashion world is purely about the designers and the models. A few, slightly more enlightened people also recognise the role played by the photographers. Fiona… Fiona was one of those enlightened people.

“I remember when I first met her – and like so many stories, Mary Thomas was well integrated into this story. It was – what, 1994 John?”

“Around about then,” John said as he shook his head and chuckled.

“Anyway,” Jack said as he turned his head back, “I had been hired by Dani Horton, the then editor of Complete Style, to do a shoot in Barcelona with a group of models. When I was meeting with her in the office, she said soemthign about ‘I’m going to get the Tornado down to help you.’

“Now I wondered what she meant by that – but I was paid to do a job, so three days later I was in Barcelona, scouting the possibly locations I was to use. I was focused on that – so when this broad Scottish accent came from behind me, saying, and I will always remember this, ‘Well noo – wha’s a nice looking man like you doing here, looking for fun?’

“I turned, and there behind me was this small, red haired woman wearing glasses, smiling as she looked at me and said ‘so ye’re Jack Linklater. You don’t look that tuff tae me…’

“That, ladies and gentlemen, was my introduction to the Tornado, also known as Fiona MacKenzie. I looked at her, she looked at me – and then I just picked her up and hugged her. Very, very few of us have done that, and lived to tell the tale.

“But as I said, we photographers were appreciated by Fiona, and all of us grew to love her. We wanted to pay our own tribute today, so we dug into our own archives to find photos very, very rarely seen – behind the scenes at shoots and shows. Please, watch the screen.”

As he turned, the screen behind him started to show a montage of photos of Fiona, on her own or with others, from her time at Jackie to the Complete Style awards show, the last shot one of her with Mary and Judith Durham.

As the screen went white, Luke took an album over and handed it to Norma and Douglas. “We wanted you to have this physical memento, on behalf of all of us,” he said, Norma wiping away a tear as she mouthed “thank you.”

“To close out our service today, please welcome Sir Paul McCartney.”

As the veteran singer sat at the piano, he said “to help me today, please welcome on the guitar Dhani Harrison.” As the guitarist came forward, Paul said “Fiona was a tower of strength when Linda passed, and supported our girls in their work. This is for her.”

“Yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away.
Now it looks as though they're here to stay.
Oh, I believe in yesterday.

“Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be.
There's a shadow hanging over me.
Oh, yesterday came suddenly.”

The tears came for many now as they continued.

“Why she had to go?
I don't know, she wouldn't say.
I said something wrong.
Now I long for yesterday.

“Yesterday love was such an easy game to play.
Now I need a place to hide away.
Oh, I believe in yesterday.

“Why she had to go?
I don't know, she wouldn't say.
I said something wrong.
Now I long for yesterday.

“Yesterday love was such an easy game to play.
Now I need a place to hide away.
Oh, I believe in yesterday.

“Mm mm mm mm mm mm mm.”

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