How to Say Goodbye

by Katy Colins

  Some of the mourners shifted as he cleared his throat. I wasn’t sure if it was discomfort from the hard wooden pews, or at preparing to hear a note from beyond the grave. I wondered when she had put pen to paper. I felt my lips curl into a small smile. The fact she had taken the time and effort to write her own eulogy shouldn’t really have surprised me.

  Charles cleared his throat.

  ‘I know this is not the done thing,’ he read, ‘to take centre stage and speak like this at your own funeral, but, if you will grant me this small moment in the spotlight I would be grateful, as it will be one of the first in my lifetime. I never did live a life full of adventure. I never married, never had children, and never really left Ryebrook. A long life such as mine has been a happy one, for sure, and that is thanks in part to all of you sat here today. But it was still a life filled with things I didn’t do, instead of things I did.’

  Charles paused to rearrange his glasses.

  ‘I also know it isn’t commonplace to look back at the things I’ve regretted. But this is my moment, so I will say what I like, thank you. If I could do it all over again then I would do it so very differently. Obviously, I hope that we would all be friends, but I would be a different, braver version of myself. I think you’d have liked her just as much as me, or even more. The fear of doing or saying the wrong thing, for so many of my younger years, truly crippled me, more than I could ever admit.

  ‘I don’t feel upset about never marrying or having children. You don’t know what either of those would be like if you’ve never had them. But I do feel awfully saddened by the chances that I did have, but threw away. Did you know that I was asked to be Miss Ryebrook 1958, but I was too painfully shy back then to go to the casting? Or that I won a pair of return flights to Iceland in a charity raffle, but I never boarded that plane as I was too scared? The older I got, the more I realised that in many ways I’d wasted this long and healthy life because of my insecurities, but by then it was too late to make up for opportunities lost. So I am urging that whatever time you have left, you use it wisely.’

  I couldn’t breathe. Charles had asked everyone to stand for the committal but it felt like the blood had set in my legs. My bottom was firmly stuck down and my feet planted flatly on the carpet. Her eulogy, her last words, were directed at me. As self-centred as that may seem, it felt like I must have been in her mind’s eye when she picked up her pen and those neat little pages of notepaper. The gentleman next to me cleared his throat with a crusty-sounding gargle. He was peering down at me from the precarious perch of his carved walnut cane. I mumbled an apology and pressed my hands against the cold wood, forcing myself to my feet.

  ‘We have been remembering with love and sadness the life of Edwina Norris that has ended. Let you all return to your homes feeling enriched by the joy she brought to your life, and how she will live on in our hearts and memories. Leave in peace.’

  There was a bowing of heads and the rustle of tissues being pulled out of plastic packets. The door to the right opened, letting chilly sunlight into the room. Charles signalled with a subtle flick of a finger to the back of the room for Leon to turn the exit music on. Frank Sinatra began to warble as mourners slowly made their way into the fresh air. I sank back down on my seat, pretending to neatly tuck my order of service into my bag. Needing a moment to catch my breath. Not wanting to see anyone I knew. Tears were pulsating at the back of my eyes.

  ‘I did it myyyyyy wayyyyy!’

  Ol’ Blue Eyes reached his near-final crescendo.

  I glanced up and realised I was the only one left. Leon was making his way over to me with a sympathetic smile on his shaven face. No doubt he would pass on to Frank and Linda that I’d attended the service. For a split-second I wondered how they were all getting on without me.

  ‘Grace?’

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. I really wasn’t in the mood to chat.

  ‘I heard about what happened. I’m sure that the form will be found sooner or later and this whole mess will be resolved,’ he said, brightly. If only he knew.

  A gentle ringing sound filled the air. Leon patted his suit pocket.

  ‘There’s our five-minute warning,’ he winked and turned off the phone alarm. ‘What’s that thing you say? Organisation is – ’

  ‘Liberation,’ I half smiled.

  ‘I’ve learnt a lot from you, Grace. I’m sure it’ll all be sorted soon enough and you’ll be back doing what you do best.’

  He picked up the discarded orders of service, wanting me to hurry along. Ms Norris’s smiling face quickly disappeared into the fold of his pocket.

  I got to my feet, unsteadily. My movements felt clumpy. I didn’t want to go and put on my professional mask. I didn’t want to make small talk with her friends and neighbours. I didn’t want to say goodbye. I felt Leon’s steady gaze as I padded across the plush carpet to the coffin. The loudly ticking clock was the only sound in the room, now that Frank had bid his farewell.

  ‘Goodbye, Ms Norris,’ I whispered, letting the tears drip down my face. I kissed two fingers and pressed them against where her name was engraved, running my index finger across the gleaming brass.

  A pointed cough from Leon forced me to compose myself.

  ‘Grace?’

  ‘Yep. Thanks.’ I couldn’t look at him. I went to walk away but at the last second remembered to use the sleeve of my cardigan to buff away the fingerprint smudge I’d left behind.

  Chapter 36

  ‘Grace? Excuse me, but are you Grace?’ An older woman’s voice was calling to me as I hurried to my car.

  I should have said hello to the Grief Club members, thanked them for coming, and seen how they were all bearing up, but I felt so fragile. I desperately needed to be on my own. Whoever was coming up behind me clearly hadn’t picked up on the antisocial signals I was giving off. I sighed and turned.

  ‘Yes?’ I squinted in the bright sunlight as a woman I didn’t recognise waddled over to me. She was about Ms Norris’s age, with thick, NHS-style plastic glasses making her watery brown eyes appear even larger.

  ‘Ah, I’m glad I caught you. I’m Alma, an old friend of Edwina’s,’ she said, slightly breathless.

  ‘Of course, hi.’ I blinked and forced myself to stay composed just a moment longer. ‘I hope you felt the service went alright?’

  ‘Oh yes! In fact, I’d put it up there along with Derek Maynard’s and Pearl Carruthers’s.’

  I guess funeral top trumps was a popular pastime at her age. I didn’t know what to say to that, so waited patiently as she got her breath back.

  ‘I’m going to be getting fit soon, now that I’ve got Purdy encouraging me to get out and about.’

  ‘You’re looking after Purdy?’ I couldn’t help but feel relieved that Ms Norris’s prized pet pug was going to a good home.

  ‘Yes, she’s settled in nicely. Dogs are very good at handling change. Better than some humans, I say.’ She laughed but it came out in a wheeze. ‘So, Grace, I wanted to catch you. I’ve been going through Edie’s things, you see. She was so organised it didn’t actually take me that long.’

  I’d never seen Ms Norris at home, but had imagined a small, neatly kept bungalow with a well-tended front garden, porcelain figurines on the mantelpiece, and biscuits kept in a faded Quality Street tin. She may even have had those plastic sofa coverings, the ones that went out of fashion but were extremely practical, especially with a dog around.

  ‘I found something that Edie left for you. I was going to come and see you next week at work, but then I decided to pop it into my handbag on the off-chance I’d see you here.’

  ‘Oh.’

  She smiled at me expectantly. I waited.

  ‘Sorry, what is it?’

  ‘Oh, right, yes.’ Alma rummaged in her handbag and pulled out a padded brown envelope with my name neatly written on the front in Ms Norris’s handwriting.

  ‘I don’t know what it is exactly, but it was in a box along with other letters for friends.’r />
  Friends. That word made my eyes well up. I took the heavy envelope and thanked her, before politely declining going back to her house for tea and cake. It felt almost fraudulent to feel this upset amongst those who knew Ms Norris so much better than I ever had.

  Without work to occupy my time I headed straight home. Thankfully, Raj must have taken Alma up on her offer for refreshments as he wasn’t back at his shop yet, and Rani looked like she was in the middle of a stocktake so didn’t see me hurry past and into my flat.

  I got changed into a faded tracksuit, and curled my bare feet under me on the sofa. I needed to go back to bed, to hide under my duvet and sleep for a million years, but the curiosity of what lay inside the package Alma had given me was more pressing. Taking a deep breath, I opened the envelope and pulled out the contents. It was a book, a heavy ring binder. I frowned at it, confused, then without realising I began to cry.

  It was Ms Norris’s recipe book. So it did exist! A priceless collection of culinary creations she’d collected over the years. The first few pages were mainly handwritten, with her own notes and observations jotted in the gaps. Smudges of food stains had crisped some of the rough pages together. Cuttings from magazines had been stuck in with glue, Post-it notes with shopping lists, and later on printouts from the internet were all wedged in.

  There was no note to go with the magical heirloom, only small quips about cooking times, suggestions of alternative ingredients, and mini reviews in her own words squeezed into the margins. It was really quite something. I felt honoured to even be holding a lifetime’s collection, let alone be the sole keeper of it. I imagined something I’d once heard Ms Norris say: ‘I would love to think of my recipes finding their way into new hands.’ I just wished I had the energy to honour her wishes.

  As I stroked a thumb over the pages I began to struggle to catch my breath. It was as if all this pent-up emotion had been released. Ms Norris dying, losing my job, Abbie’s affair, Linda’s stirring, Daniel’s dishonour, Callum’s obliviousness. It was all too much to bear.

  *

  My days passed in an endless monotony of sleeping and crying. My curtains remained closed. My fridge began to empty. I was envious of those who drank; the thought of being able to numb these emotions and pass out in a catatonic state had never appealed as much as it did now. I ignored the doorbell and pulled the duvet over my head when Raj’s concerned voice rattled through the letterbox. My phone remained switched off. Everyone could just go away. Instead, I slept. Each time I woke it hit me again: Abbie had been unfaithful. Ms Norris was gone. I’d lost my job.

  Henry.

  It was as if this recent trauma had exposed the years-old wounds of love and loss too. I didn’t know who I was grieving for, from one moment to the next.

  Thoughts of orders of service and funeral corteges just seemed so meaningless now. Why put on such a show after the person has died? They would never see the effort you put in to remembering them. Abbie’s funeral had been packed with glory mourners, all crying over a different version of this woman, a woman who had fooled them all into thinking she led this perfect life. Ms Norris had a handful of faithful friends, which seemed an insignificant amount considering the long life she’d led. And then there was Sam, my son. He never even had the chance to live before he died. No perfect goodbyes were going to change the course of events that had occurred.

  Flowers had arrived from Callum. I’d only seen the expensive, hand-tied bouquet resting in the alcove to my flat when I’d meekly opened the door to the delivery guy for the second night in a row. I’d picked them up as I’d taken the margarita pizza from the young man. The note said how he had heard the news about Ms Norris from Raj. How sorry he was, and how he would leave me in peace but was thinking of me, and I knew where to find him when I was ready. He said he missed me and signed off with two small kisses. I wanted to call him, to hear his voice, but how was I supposed to act like everything was normal when I knew that his wife had spent half their marriage in love with another man? I needed to focus on myself and my own problems. I had spent almost five years avoiding my own truth, and I was unravelling at an alarming rate.

  I thought about Callum and how brave he was in facing his utterly, devastatingly tragic situation head-on. He could have easily refused to accept the unacceptable. I wished I had some of the strength he possessed. I needed to make a start in picking up the pieces of my own life. If Callum could do it then I had no excuse. I took a deep breath before I chickened out. I knew exactly who I needed to speak to.

  I turned on my phone. A message alerted me that I had two new voicemails. I didn’t bother to listen to them. Instead I called Maria, but she didn’t answer. I glanced at the time on my phone. I knew where she’d be anyway, she was a creature of habit after all; that was one of the reasons we had clicked. I pulled on the nearest clothes I could grab and hurried out of the door.

  I’d driven there without a second thought, the journey a blur. It felt like my brain was still trying to catch up with my body. Daniel’s confession had triggered something in me and it wasn’t just heartache for Callum.

  I could see myself in the way that he was broken, shattered with love for someone who had left him in the most horrific way, with no chance for reconciliation or even to say a goodbye.

  ‘I need to speak to Henry. I need to speak to him right now!’

  Maria glanced up from the cosy huddle in the corner of the room. The lights were dimmed. Joss sticks and tea lights were lit along the mantelpiece. My eyes tried to adjust to the darkness. It had been so long since I’d set foot in there, but it hadn’t changed a bit.

  ‘Grace?’

  ‘I need to speak to Henry!’ I repeated, louder. ‘I have to get some answers. It’s gone on too long now.’

  Two older women, sitting opposite Maria, spun their heads towards me, confused and irritated at the dramatic interruption. I’d sat in their seat once upon a time. I’d gone there to find the comfort they craved too. Kidding myself that I was different, Maria had made me feel special, but she was probably saying the same things to them right before I’d barged in there.

  ‘Grace, it’s OK.’ She was passing a look between the two women. ‘I’m just with these ladies at the moment. But if you want to wait outside, I’ll –’

  ‘No!’ I screamed. ‘I’m sick of you doing this. Just tell me how I can speak to him myself!’

  My throat burnt, salty tears ran down my cheeks.

  ‘She’s not well. I’ve been trying to help her for a while.’ I could hear Maria explaining in hushed tones. ‘I’ve not seen her like this though. I promise I’ll only be a second. I just need to calm her down, then I’ll be right back.’

  Maria got to her feet, mouthing an apology to the women as she walked over to me.

  Gut-wrenching sobs had taken over my body. It was like I was looking down at myself, wondering why I was having such a visceral reaction. I’d never lost control of my body like this before. It was terrifying.

  That was a lie. I had experienced this before. Just once.

  ‘Grace, please come and sit down,’ Maria said soothingly.

  I was shaking my head, trembling all over. ‘Maria, just tell me!’

  She sighed, her narrowed eyes darting across the room.

  ‘Do you want us to wait outside?’ one of the women asked. The other looked like she’d much rather stay and enjoy this meltdown playing out in front of her.

  ‘Please, if you don’t mind. I won’t be long,’ Maria replied.

  My breath was coming out in starts. I couldn’t get enough air. They moved past me, throwing sympathetic glances that I ignored.

  ‘Please sit down, Grace,’ Maria said, more tersely than before.

  I sank into the chair she pulled out. Grateful for something to support my weight.

  ‘What’s going on? What’s happened?’

  I tried to speak but my voice was too strangled in the gasps of breath. She handed me a bottle of water, the lid removed. I stared at it.
I’d been in this situation before. It was as if the cloth had been pulled off, the repressed memories springing to life.

  ‘I need to speak to Henry.’

  ‘You know that you can’t do that, Grace.’

  I shook my head forcefully. ‘Please. Please!’

  ‘I can try and get in touch with him, if you’d like? Although the energy you’re sending off may prohibit us.’

  It was my fault, always my fault.

  I noticed a deck of tarot cards laid out on the table the women had been sat around. A picture of a skeleton riding a white horse, about to go into battle, was lying face up. The death card. She’d told me death was invincible and unconquerable, but that this card represented a significant change in life, not the end of it. She’d told me many things. I’d soaked them all up, allowing her to use her talents to tell me what I needed to hear. What I chose to hear.

  I felt like the room was tipping. My feet were struggling to keep me planted upright. Truths and lies blending before my eyes. She moved the tarot cards to one side, sighed and closed her eyes. I waited, my breathing slowly returning to normal.

  ‘I’m sorry, Grace. I can’t do this.’ She shook her head and flashed open her eyes.

  He doesn’t want to talk to you.

  ‘I have to speak to him! I have so much I need to ask him. How could he have done this to me? To us?’

  ‘Grace,’ her tone was sharper. ‘Stop this.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘You know that Henry is dead.’

  Her words stabbed me. The truth that I’d hid from for so long, thinking I could outsmart it, had slapped me in my face.

  Maria was right.

  The reality of my situation finally hit home with the heaviest of force. I had to admit to myself something I’d tried so hard to lock away. The repressed memories flooding back, threatening to drown me.

  Chapter 37

  Henry pervaded every waking thought, he took over my fractured dreams and sucked all the air from the stale flat. It was like I was grieving all over again.