How to Say Goodbye

by Katy Colins

  I sprang out of bed. I should have done this a long time ago. My eyes fell on Henry’s memory box. The relics of the past, of lost love and unfulfilled opportunity, of heartache, of hope and pain, in one battered cardboard box.

  Henry was my first love, there was no doubt about that, but he didn’t deserve to be my only love. I was ready to say goodbye to him, to us. I had to look to the future without clinging onto the memory of a dead boyfriend. It had been long enough.

  ‘Right. Come on, Grace,’ I said to the empty room. I felt calm and clear-headed as I tipped the box of faded ticket stubs, positive pregnancy tests, crinkled Valentine’s cards, and all the old emails that I’d printed off, whose words I knew by heart, into the bin. These were just things, stuff that I didn’t need to give such a holy reverence to. Holding on wasn’t going to bring him back but it was going to slow me down from moving forward. I felt a release as the box lightened in my hands, watching the contents fall into the bin.

  I then turned on my laptop and logged onto Facebook. I wasn’t finished quite yet. Leon had sent me a friend request, which I was about to accept before I figured I was probably meant to keep my distance from anything work-related. I didn’t want to get anyone else in trouble, and until I heard from Frank I wasn’t entirely sure what the rules were. It didn’t matter really because I wasn’t on there to connect with people. I was looking for the link to delete my account. Even if Frank welcomed me back to work, I was going to change my working style. Helping others had helped me, but I still needed to make sure that I wasn’t giving too much of me to the job.

  A red notification in the corner caught me eye. I told myself I’d have a quick look – probably something Mum had tagged me in – and then get on with what I was planning to do. It took me to the Ask A Funeral Arranger Facebook page I’d set up, all those months ago, desperate to attract new members and, most importantly, sign-ups to prepaid plans. I hadn’t updated it for so long, and had forgotten I’d even given Marcus admin access; he must have been carrying it on in my absence.

  The page now had sixty-four likes – the last time I’d looked we had five – and not only that, there were now also reviews. All of them gave five stars. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I scrolled down the page, reading them.

  Grief Club is the one place I can be myself. I’d recommend it to anyone looking for a safe haven and respite from the loneliness of their own grief, which is down to the lovely Grace and her hard work in bringing us together. Five stars – Julie Rivers

  I was sick of feeling so low so went along hoping to do something proactive but not expecting much. What I didn’t expect was to find a group of wonderful people I now call friends. Ugly crying is welcome! – Raj

  Cheers Grace for creating Grief Club, it’s the opposite of morbid and actually has offered so much light back into my life. Also – the free cake is epic! –Dean O’Callahan

  Allow yourself to sit in the darkness, embracing how broken you feel. Stop saying I’m fine if you’re not. Open up to others who understand. These are all things I’ve learnt since joining Grief Club. – Ms. E. Norris

  There were more but my eyes had misted with tears, so I struggled to read them. My heart surged with happiness. I desperately wanted to show Ms Norris, to tell her that her idea to keep the meetings going despite my reluctance had paid off. It was because of her encouragement that I now had this wonderful bunch of new friends. She really had done more for me that I ever realised.

  I took a deep breath and tried to stay positive. I couldn’t tell her in person but I could honour her by making sure I didn’t give up on my Griefsters. I would make sure I went to the next meeting with an extra large box of her favourite cakes. These battle-scarred survivors gave me hope that I would get through my pain too.

  There was just one thing I needed to do. The Facebook page was clearly in the more than capable hands of Marcus. Other than that I was done with this site, done with social media. I clicked on my profile page and found what I was looking for. I pressed delete and felt lighter than I could remember for a very long time.

  Chapter 43

  The music in there was clearly set at a level that was best for those with dodgy hearing aids. The whining bass and screechy vocals of an overweight man murdering ‘Sweet Caroline’ was a sure-fire fast track to tinnitus. I glanced around the pub trying to spot her. The dark oak stain of the timber beams only made it feel even more claustrophobic.

  This impromptu trip was inspired by Ms Norris. She wouldn’t have just sat back, waiting for her fate to be delivered to her, she would be out getting the answers she deserved. It was about time I took some control back too.

  I remembered her saying she went to karaoke there every week, but apart from the balding singer with an impressive beer belly, and a wiry woman tucking into a bag of peanuts at a nearby low table, it was empty. I frowned. Maybe I’d got the wrong pub.

  Behind me was a noticeboard with the darts team’s fixtures, a poster for an upcoming talent show, and details on the next ladies’ night. This was definitely the right place. So where was Linda and her gaggle of girlfriends cackling in the corner over cheap Malibu and cokes? I turned to leave when I spotted a flash of leopard print out of the corner of my eye.

  ‘Linda?’

  She was sat in a booth all alone. She blinked back the look of complete shock at seeing me.

  ‘Grace? What are you…’ she paused and flicked her eyes to the singer who was still warbling on. ‘Are you here for karaoke?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘I mean it’s not usually as dead as this.’ She let out a funny sort of laugh to hide her embarrassment. ‘The girls will be here shortly… oh, hi Brian!’

  She smiled a toothy grin at a middle-aged man who plodded past with an unlit cigarette in his mouth, heading for the smoking area. He blanked her. A flash of blush flamed up her bronzed cheeks. I realised that there was no group of girls, there was no crazy social life. She was as lonely as I had been. This caught me off guard.

  ‘Sorry, Grace, do you want to sit down? I have to say this is a bit of a surprise…’

  I tried not to let her fabricated social life distract me from why I was really there.

  ‘I think we need to talk.’

  She twirled the plastic straw around her glass. ‘I agree.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Can I go first?’

  I nodded and sat opposite her, my elbows sticking to the tacky table top.

  ‘I didn’t tell Frank about the missing sign-out form for the ashes, if that’s what you’ve come here to talk about. It was Frank.’

  ‘Frank?’ Why on earth would Frank get involved in paperwork?

  The singer had finished. The landlord had taken the whiny mic and was asking for the next wannabe pop star to come and pick a song. We both ignored him.

  ‘He’d finally agreed to this new computer software that I’d been pestering him to get since seeing it at Coffin Club.’

  I had a vague memory of him mentioning this during a team meeting.

  ‘Anyway, it’s this bit of kit that electronically scans and saves forms. He must have been using it himself and gone through the ashes paperwork, which flagged up a missing form.’ She shrugged.

  With no new takers, the overweight singer got back up to the stage and began an awful Elvis medley. I was finding it hard to concentrate on what Linda was saying. ‘What Frank didn’t anticipate was that you would tell him about your unusual ways of using the internet to make your funerals so unique.’

  ‘But he brought it up. He knew that I’d been using social media in work time…’

  She shook her head. ‘He brought it up because he wanted to ask you to use the company social media pages more as a marketing tool or something. He’d heard that it can be a good, cost-effective way of getting what we do out in the community, and wanted to ask you if you could help.’

  I sat back. I’d gotten into this mess myself. There was no one to blame but me. I’d gone against the rules, and Linda had been telli
ng the truth.

  ‘I’m sorry for immediately thinking it was you who spilled the beans to Frank.’

  ‘It’s fine. I know we’ve never really seen eye to eye on things, but I wouldn’t have gone straight to Frank if I did find out the ashes form was missing. To be honest you’re so diligent I would have just assumed you had a good reason. You know we’ve not had the best relationship but I wouldn’t have wanted you to risk losing your job,’ she said, letting that fact hang in the air. ‘I only teased you about Mr Anderson because I was jealous … I guess.’

  We sat in a funny sort of silence, listening to the god-awful singer who was now trying to thrust his podgy groin in time to the beat.

  ‘I did always think it was odd how you managed to hit the nail on the head with every single funeral you planned. The lengths you went to in order to give them the perfect goodbye.’ Linda shrugged. ‘I mean, yeah, it’s a little on the creepy side, scouring the web for details of dead people –’

  ‘It was always done with the best intentions.’

  ‘I know. Perfect Grace and her perfect funerals.’

  ‘Perfect Grace?’ I scoffed.

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, come off it. You’re clever, kind, hard-working, pretty and patient. I’m not going to list any more as you’ll get a big head. Oh, and to make it even worse, you don’t even realise how many people like you!’ I was completely taken aback, too shocked to correct her. ‘You remind me of my sister. She could never put a foot wrong either.’

  I was about to say that she had no idea how many mistakes I’d made, but she was on a roll.

  ‘I don’t know if you have any siblings but we were as competitive as you could get. Whatever I did, she did it better. But then one day we had a massive falling out, and she emigrated to Australia with her kids. Like I said, she always had to go bigger and better than anyone else.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘The thing is, it broke my mum’s heart. She was getting on a bit so never saw her or the grandkids again before she passed away. God bless her soul. I’ve had to live with the regret that it was my fault Mum lost out on their lives, just because the two of us couldn’t get on.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  She shrugged lightly. ‘You’re Perfect Grace and I’m just Good Time Linda, the one who’ll get the next round in or be first up on the karaoke machine.’ She blinked rapidly. ‘You were always getting the most praise from Frank, the most thank you cards and gifts; your funerals were even talked about at the Coffin Club conventions I went to. The only thing I knew I could do better than you was to use my thick skin to my advantage. I suggested to Frank about the prepaid sign-ups. It was a challenge I could easily win. I just didn’t expect you to then start this bereavement club thing, that’s obviously taken off!’

  So her issues with me had been a bizarre case of sibling rivalry all along? With no sister to fight with, Linda had used me as a stand in, Frank being the parent.

  She laughed, but it didn’t sound genuine. ‘You couldn’t make it up really!’

  ‘You always seem like you have everything together.’

  ‘What’s that saying about smoke and mirrors? If you act a certain way then you’ll eventually convince others that’s who you are.’ She shrugged.

  Immediately I thought of Abbie and her less-than-perfect offline life.

  ‘I think I’m going to take a leaf out of your book,’ said Linda, ‘and be a little more true to who I am. I may not be perfect but I’m me.’

  It was all too much to take in. Linda wanted to be more like me? I almost wanted to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t in some bizarre dream.

  ‘You’ll probably hear from Frank soon when he calls to apologise and get you back to work.’

  ‘Apologise?’

  Frank had nothing to apologise for.

  ‘Well, he’s still unimpressed at you stalking our clients’ personal lives online, but I’m sure he’ll at least say sorry for thinking foul play had been involved in Abbie’s missing ashes. I found the form Callum signed when he took the ashes. You know how messy my desk is, it wasn’t hard to convince him it was just mislaid paperwork. He’ll probably call you soon enough to get you back in work. Right, I need a top up.’ She shook her empty glass. ‘Can I get you one?’

  ‘I’m good, thanks. I need to head home, actually.’

  ‘You not going to stay for a song? We could do a duet?’ Her eyes lit up.

  ‘Maybe another time…’

  OK, so Linda and I would never be BFFs, she needed to have her head tested for all the mismatching leopard print she insisted on wearing, but we had certainly cleared the air. I had reached the door when suddenly I realised something didn’t add up.

  ‘Wait. You said you found the form from Callum, but there was no form. Did you forge his signature?’

  She shook her head. ‘He came in to see me. He’d heard you’d got into trouble on his behalf, and wanted to fix it.’

  My heart did this funny flip thing. He must have paid her a visit before he left.

  ‘He’s one of the good ones, Grace.’

  She smiled sadly.

  I know.

  Chapter 44

  ‘Hey, Grace, we’ve not seen you in a while! I have to say that Grief Club isn’t the same without you’ said Raj.

  ‘Sorry, things have been a bit…’ I trailed out. Where to begin? It didn’t matter now anyway. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of them carrying on without me. I would go back, one day, when I was properly ready.

  ‘You know we have a few more faces that have joined? Obviously none of them are such skilled facilitators as you, or bring such wonderful cakes. So, what’s the first rule of Grief Club? That we talk about Grief Club! I made that up myself.’ He beamed.

  ‘Very good.’

  ‘So, what can I get for you? The usual?’

  I shook my head. It had been a while since I’d played my tinned food lucky dip game and I wasn’t about to start again.

  ‘I actually came to ask you something. What are you doing on Sunday the eighth of November at seven p.m.?’

  ‘Nothing. Well, working. Why?’

  I smiled and pulled out the confirmation email I’d printed off.

  ‘Ryebrook and Hillgate Talent Show are looking for contestants. Do you have what it takes?’ He took it from me and read aloud.

  I had spotted the poster tacked to the noticeboard when I was in the pub with Linda. There was a contest taking place and they wanted singers, jugglers or comedians to take part, and help put Ryebrook on the map. I’d decided to enter Raj – there was no way he would have entered himself. He stared at me as if I’d lost the plot.

  ‘I’ve booked you a spot at the talent show. You’re going to be on stage performing your best gags for Ryebrook’s Got Talent!’

  Judging by the way he was blinking so rapidly, I immediately regretted being so bold. When would I learn to stop getting involved in other people’s business?

  ‘Seriously? But, but, what about the shop? You know Rani can’t run it on her own,’ he stuttered, his large brown hands trembling slightly. ‘I don’t know Grace, I mean I’m really touched that you thought of me, that you think I will be good enough but…’

  ‘I’ll help her. Or you can shut up early for the evening. Most of your customers will be coming to watch you and support you there, instead of buying pints of milk or cigarettes here.’ The colour drained from his face at the thought of actually getting up and making this dream a reality. ‘Plus, you’ve got what no one else has…’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘Peter Kay’s endorsement!’

  He thought for a moment then nodded firmly. ‘You’re right!’ He placed the paper on the counter, by the reduced packs of Bakewell tarts, before wrapping me in a hug. He smelt of cheap aftershave. He also gave a really good hug.

  ‘I do. Wow, oh wow. Rani isn’t going to believe it. Do you think I have a chance of winning? What does it say here… £250 prize fund is up for grabs. That could get us a
new fridge freezer or maybe I could invest in the latest smart scanner things that the Tesco Express has.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘This could be the start of everything!’

  I couldn’t help but be swept away by his enthusiasm. This man who worked every day of his life and had never grumbled, apart from about Tesco, deserved to take a chance and follow his dreams.

  ‘Maybe. So you’ll do it?’

  He clapped his hands. ‘Yes! Of course. Right, gosh, I better get on. Need to practice my set. Now, do you think I open with the Bag for Life joke or the one about the grim reaper?’

  Chapter 45

  ‘Grace?’ Frank called me in from watering the hanging baskets outside. The cold was setting in but the violas were putting up a good fight. I’d been lost in my own thoughts, as droplets beaded from thick leaves, splattering onto the tarmac below. ‘Have you got a minute?’

  I put the watering can down and went inside to take a seat at his desk. I smiled proudly at the pristine room, not a speck of dust anywhere to be seen. I’d decided to go back to work. It turned out Linda was right; Frank had called the next day asking if I could go and see him. I’d agreed to come back if I could dial down the workload and take it at my own pace. I could see just how much of myself I’d been pouring into the funerals of others, and it wasn’t healthy.