How to Say Goodbye

by Katy Colins

  ‘Oh, that reminds me. I wondered if you had any good bonfire night sort of recipes up your sleeve? I know it’s months away yet, but I wanted to get thinking about baking some cakes for the remembrance event in November.’

  ‘I’ll have a look in my recipe book. I’m sure I can pull something together.’

  I smiled at her. I wasn’t convinced such a recipe book existed. I preferred to imagine her concocting different combinations of flavours from an array of ingredients in her small kitchen. The measurements she gave were always a little hazy and written out on scraps of paper that she said she’d ‘copied’ from this supposed recipe book she owned.

  ‘I wonder if we’ll get any newcomers tonight,’ she said as we reached the church hall, distracting me from wondering if I should bake for Callum when I popped over next. He might appreciate the gesture.

  ‘I hope so…’

  I helped her up the stone steps and waited as she tied Purdy’s lead to the railings.

  Inside I felt a little pessimistic that we would gain any new members, given what a lovely summer’s evening it was. Who would want to sit indoors in a stuffy room with strangers discussing grief and death when they could be making the most of this balmy evening?

  ‘Look, Marcus is already here!’ she beamed at him as he got up from the floor where he had been sitting, waiting for us to open the door.

  ‘Marcus, you’re early? Everything OK?’

  ‘Yeah. My mam’s having a barbecue with some of her work mates. They’re well annoying when they’ve had a few drinks. Thought I’d just come and wait here instead of hearing them go on about the man from number thirty-nine who they all fancy.’ He rolled his eyes.

  I pulled on the door, getting a waft of hot and humid air.

  ‘Ooof. Right, let’s get these windows open.’

  We began trying to make it slightly cooler, propping the door open and heaving the heavy windows as far as they would go. It didn’t make much of a difference, though, as the air was so still.

  ‘My, it is rather toasty in here.’ Ms Norris looked an alarming shade of pink. Beads of sweat covered Marcus’s downy upper lip. I felt a little light-headed.

  ‘More like a sauna,’ I said, fanning my face with a prepaid sign-up form. ‘We can’t stay in here. We’ll melt.’

  ‘No!’ Marcus let out a whine. ‘Don’t make me go back to the drunk barbecue.’

  ‘There’s a garden out the back. Let’s head there.’

  Within minutes we’d decamped to the crumbling walled garden, battling through weeds and wildflowers and tall clumps of grass to set up a few chairs in a shaded spot. Ms Norris had slunk to a chair under an apple tree, her swollen legs outstretched, wiping her flushed cheeks. Thankfully Raj had come prepared with cold treats from his newsagents.

  ‘Well this is different!’ Ms Norris smiled, as a blob of vanilla ice cream dripped down her hands. ‘What a lovely treat. I can’t remember the last time I had an ice cream!’

  ‘The Italians know how to do ice cream. Gelato they call it,’ Deano said, waving his cornet in the air to emphasise the fact.

  ‘Have you been? To Italy, I mean?’ Julie asked. She had also brought chocolates as a thank you for everyone’s help with her mum’s house. She seemed a lot lighter, obviously still deep in grief but able to speak without crying, and she even managed a smile at one of Raj’s jokes.

  ‘Nah,’ replied Deano. ‘But the guy that drives the Mr Whippy van near mine is half Italian. That’s almost the same.’

  Licking the stick of my own ice lolly, I realised that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sat with the sun on my face, eating ice cream either. It had been way too long. A faded memory of Henry chasing after an ice cream van was hovering at the edges of my conscience. I blinked, tucked my empty lolly stick into a makeshift bin, and forced myself to get started. We were there for a reason, not to be lazing about with ice cream, sharing summer memories. I wanted to get down to business.

  ‘So today’s topic is how others deal with our grief.’

  A shuffle of feet and bottoms in chairs. Ms Norris, Marcus, Deano, Julie, Raj, and I. The six of us settled into the al fresco set-up. As predicted, we’d had no newcomers. I tried not to feel disheartened at the clear waste of effort; the flyers Callum and I had stuck up around town had obviously not had the desired effect.

  I paused from my notes at the over-the-top cough, as a familiar face stepped into the garden through the wooden gate. ‘Callum? You made it!’

  I ignored the look of interest Ms Norris was giving me.

  ‘Thought I’d come and see what the fuss was about,’ he said, smiling bashfully, with a nod at the others.

  ‘Of course! You’re more than welcome. Here, take a seat.’ I went to pull an extra chair into the circle, from the pile that Raj and I had brought outside, but stubbed my toe on one of the legs as I wasn’t looking at what I was doing. I half tumbled on the tufts of grass, and just about managed not to fall.

  ‘Whoops! We’re not usually outside but it was too nice to be stuck indoors. Er, right, where were we?’ I brushed a stray strand of hair from my glowing face and tried to concentrate on the notes I’d made. ‘Everyone ready to continue? We were talking about other people’s reactions to grief. I wondered if any of you had anything you’d like to share?’

  Callum raised a hand.

  I glanced at him in surprise. He was here, sober and getting involved. Mel would be really proud. ‘Oh, er, please, go ahead… ‘

  ‘Don’t get me started on the people you meet after someone’s died.’ He sighed and began ticking things off his fingers. ‘You’ve got the Competitive Grievers. The ones who feel sorry for you but then seem to revel in being able to top your story with something way worse that happened to them, like it’s some sort of Grief Olympics. Then, you’ve got the Grieving Police, the ones who judge you as a terrible, terrible person for not going around dressed in black, sobbing all the time. As if by cracking a smile or making some crap joke it means you’re not upset enough. Then you’ve got the Cliché Clowns, those who tell you that time is a healer, that it’s all part of God’s plan.’

  A murmur of agreement passed round the group.

  ‘They’re almost as bad as the At Least-ers. Everything starts with, well, at least she didn’t suffer, at least you had five years together, at least you’re still young enough to try again. Doesn’t matter how you try to put a spin on it… it’s just… shit.’ He caught himself and flashed a look at Marcus. ‘Whoops. Sorry.’

  ‘’S’alright.’ Marcus blushed. ‘You’re totally right.’

  The vein in Callum’s forehead was dramatically pulsing. He’d been needing to let all of this emotion out.

  ‘I guess people don’t know what to say,’ I said when he’d slumped back, the fight dissipated. ‘But you’re right. There’s nothing anyone can say to make you feel better.’

  ‘But this is your job,’ Deano said. ‘You deal with sad people every single day. How do you know what to say?’ he asked, looking genuinely interested.

  I thought about this. We had rigorous training on what not to say, but I guess it came so naturally now, I never had to think of how to find the right words.

  ‘I just listen.’

  ‘You’re right. You do. But how do you do that and not want to jump in and fix things or say something to make it better?’ Ms Norris asked softly, wanting to bring the atmosphere down a notch or two.

  ‘I know I can’t help people feel better at that moment, but maybe in the future they’ll be grateful for what I did at the time.’

  ‘It’s only when you’re in the club that you realise how the most important thing is just for someone to say something. The worst thing is to ignore the elephant in the room,’ Julie said quietly, to a nod of agreement from the others.

  ‘You know I’m learning so much from this group,’ Raj smiled.

  ‘Hear, hear,’ chimed Ms Norris.

  ‘I think more people should come to Grief Club, then they’d
understand what it feels like.’

  ‘Grief Club? Is that what you call it?’ I shook my head gently at Raj. I never expected my Ask A Funeral Arranger event to evolve like this.

  ‘It’s a little catchier…’ Marcus piped up.

  ‘I guess,’ I smiled. ‘What I wanted to add to Julie’s point is that a lot of these people mean well, but no one gets to tell you whether you’re grieving “correctly”.’ I glanced at Callum. ‘You’re allowed to have good and bad days. You’re allowed not to cry when you don’t feel like crying and you’re allowed to sob like a baby when you do. You’re allowed to be in shock. You’re allowed to laugh at random stuff. You’re allowed to feel everything and nothing at the same time. You’re allowed to not think about death at all and take a break from grieving.’

  Callum gave a weak smile. ‘If only it were that simple.’

  As the session broke halfway for refreshments, I smelt Ms Norris’s white musk scent as she padded over to me.

  ‘He looks familiar.’ She nodded at Callum who was pouring himself a glass of water and talking to Raj.

  ‘Really? Do you know him?’

  ‘I’m a whizz at remembering faces, but names… well, they’re trickier to hold onto.’ She tapped the side of her head and gave a sad sort of smile.

  ‘Oh, erm, well, his wife passed away recently.’

  ‘I think I saw something about that, was it a car crash? Oh, that was just such an awful story. She was a model? Abbie something? Such a waste of a life. I saw it in the paper.’

  I wanted her to keep her voice down. I was so proud of Callum for making the effort to come tonight, I didn’t want him to think we were gossiping about him.

  ‘He’s very handsome. Reminds me of a young James Dean. Don’t you agree, Grace?’ She gave me a sort of nudge.

  I let out a sort of ‘mmm-hmm’ sound in response.

  ‘What? There’s something you’re not telling me,’ Ms Norris insisted, finally lowering her voice.

  ‘He’s the man who I’ve been helping with his garden.’

  ‘What! That’s the widower?!’

  ‘Shush!’ I hissed just as Callum walked over.

  ‘Evening.’ Ms Norris nodded to him.

  ‘Hello,’ he smiled politely back. ‘Oh, Grace, you left this at mine. I wasn’t sure if you needed it?’ Callum bashfully handed over the notebook I’d been jotting down all my gardening ideas in.

  ‘Oh, er, thanks.’ I felt my cheeks flush under Ms Norris’s interested gaze.

  ‘I also wanted to ask you something?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Are…’ His voice was hesitant. ‘Are you free on the twenty-first of June?’

  I closed my eyes, pointlessly running through an empty social calendar. ‘I think so. Why?’

  ‘Mel’s organising her annual summer solstice event. It’s a bit airy fairy, as it’s the longest night of the year, but it falls on my birthday so we usually combine the two. You don’t have to come. You know, if you have other plans…’

  ‘That sounds lovely.’ Ms Norris beamed at the pair of us. ‘Doesn’t it, Grace?’

  ‘Yes…’ I trailed out awkwardly. Despite being outside I felt like there wasn’t enough air. I didn’t want to ask him how he felt about celebrating his first birthday without Abbie. Another milestone in the painful year of firsts. The fact he was planning to get out of bed on that day, let alone be swept up in his sister’s enforced fun, and have me tag along, was incredible and a testament to how strong he was. I felt honoured to be included.

  ‘Great, I’ll text you the details. Can I get either of you a drink?’

  ‘I’m fine –’

  ‘A water would be lovely,’ Ms Norris smiled kindly, watching him go.

  ‘Care to explain? Grace Salmon? When you said you’d been helping a widower I thought you meant some elderly gentleman struggling to keep on top of his weeds because of his bad back. I never expected someone so young and handsome.’

  ‘We’ve just been doing some gardening together.’ The words tumbled out of my mouth sounding a lot like a euphemism. ‘That’s all.’

  Chapter 22

  ‘Grace!’ Mel waved as I walked through the house and into the garden. Looking over the empty lawn it was a much more intimate family affair than I’d expected. I swallowed and tried to stride forward with a confidence I didn’t have.

  ‘Hi, the door was open so I just…’ She pulled me into a warm hug.

  Callum was standing at the barbecue with two other men, intent looks on their faces as they peered at a line of sausages and hamburgers on the grill. The air smelt of charcoal, cooked meat and freshly cut grass. It smelt of summer.

  ‘Boys! Come and say hello to Grace,’ she called over to Finley and Noah who were rolling on the grass. Mel’s shout caught the men’s attention.

  ‘That’s my husband, Nick. I’m not sure if you two have been properly introduced before?’

  I shook my head.

  Nick raised a hand in the air, squinting in the sun.

  ‘Hey, you look nice. Thanks for coming.’ Callum jogged over and went to give me a kiss on the cheek. The familiarity between us came as a welcome surprise.

  ‘And you, love the hat.’

  He touched the ridiculous neon pink party hat, tilted at a jaunty angle on his head. ‘Yeah, Finn insisted I had to look like a plonker on my birthday. Can I get you a drink? A soft drink?’ he added quickly, leading me to a long table under a sun umbrella on the patio. He looked relaxed and, well, happy.

  ‘I’ve made you a cake.’ I nodded to the box I’d managed to place on a spare chair before Mel hugged me. ‘It’s one of Ms Norris’s recipes, a chocolate one. I wasn’t sure if you liked chocolate or had a sweet tooth but I thought everyone likes chocolate.’ Oh dear, I was babbling. What was the matter with me? It must have been the lack of other guests that had thrown me.

  ‘Cheers,’ he looked genuinely touched. ‘And yeah, I do like chocolate.’

  A few bottles of non-alcoholic grown-up squash were chilling in an ice bucket. He fixed me an elderflower fizz. I’d never had it before; the floral taste was a little odd but nice. I felt relieved to have something to do with my hands. He bent down to the cool box laid at his flip-flop covered feet, pulled out a stubby beer and flipped the cap off.

  ‘The garden looks great,’ I smiled at our hard work.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, looking at it as if seeing it for the first time.

  ‘Cal!’ A man whose face seemed familiar bounded over to us. I knew him from somewhere, but I couldn’t place him. ‘Mel’s sliced her finger on the cheese grater. Honest to god, it’s barely more than a scratch, but she wants to know where you keep plasters?’

  ‘Er, no idea. We’ve got a first-aid box somewhere, probably in the bathroom.’ He didn’t make any reference to the incorrect pronoun. ‘Grace meet Rory, Rory meet Grace.’

  ‘Hey, how you doing?’

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Rory here is my best mate. He lives in Edinburgh but we can’t seem to keep him away,’ Callum teased.

  Abbie’s funeral. That’s where I’d seen him before. He’d been standing at the front with Callum. I remembered him at the house afterwards, standing in the kitchen, deep in conversation with an older man.

  ‘And Grace is…’

  She helped me bury my wife. ‘His gardener,’ I smiled and shook Rory’s warm hand. He was shorter than Callum. He had a thick ginger beard half covering his plump features, and a kind look in his hazel eyes. Callum laughed.

  ‘Well, it’s looking great. Right, Callum, excuse me. I need to go and play nurse to your dramatic sister.’

  He wandered back to the house shouting out that Doctor Rory was on his way.

  ‘We grew up together, the three of us. He’s one of the good ones.’

  ‘So, how have you been today? It can’t have been easy.’

  He sighed. ‘Mel was worried I’d have a massive meltdown not receiving a card or present from my wife, but honestly, it wasn’
t as tough as I’d expected. Yeah, I mean, I woke up feeling a little groggy after a bit of a sesh last night but, in a funny way, I’ve actually looked forward to this party. It’s good to keep busy, especially having the boys around. Birthdays aren’t such a big deal the older you get.’

  ‘That’s true.’ I nodded. ‘What did Mel say about me coming here? I wasn’t sure if it might be a bit weird seeing me here.’

  He gave a half shrug.

  ‘I think she thinks you’re helping me. Like some sort of outreach programme.’ He didn’t meet my eyes, just stared out over the horizon and gulped his beer. ‘I may have mentioned Grief Club to her, which she was very pleased to hear about. I have to say that it wasn’t half as bad as I’d prepared myself for. In fact, don’t tell Mel but I actually enjoyed it…’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘I told you she’d been insisting on me going to talk to someone. Anyway, that’s when she gave me the third degree on you and me hanging out.’

  ‘Oh.’ My heart began to gallop in my chest. I wished I’d been a fly on the wall for that conversation. ‘What did you, er, what did you say, about me?’

  ‘I said that you’d become a friend. I guess. That you’d been helping me tidy up the garden and it’s been good to keep busy and chat to someone who didn’t know me from before.’ I could feel my cheeks growing warm. ‘That’s it.’

  ‘Yep.’ I paused and sipped my drink. For some reason the bubbles had gone all flat and it tasted funny. ‘That’s it.’

  *

  Mel had asked in hushed tones if I could join her in the kitchen. She wanted us to quickly put up some decorations to surprise Callum. She’d already made this stark space seem more warm and inviting. A bunch of wildflowers stood in a battered yellow jug, and the Radio 2 jingle played from a retro-style radio on the windowsill. Pictures that the boys had painted were blu-tacked to the fridge and colourful streamers thrown on the work surfaces.