by JA Andrews
The waitress walks back to the counter.
‘Donna does need to mind her own business, doesn’t she?’ Gary says. ‘Have you thought about telling her to back off?’
‘Plenty of times.’ I laugh. ‘Believe me, I’ve thought of a lot worse. She’s helping me to pay for the service though so I feel a little obliged to tolerate her at the minute.’
For a few more minutes I sit chatting to him about Donna and Peter. It feels good to get this off my chest.
‘The lowlife that killed your husband had his cremation yesterday,’ Gary informs me. ‘I saw a small section in the local paper about it. Did the police contact you about anything?’
‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘I had a call from Sharon the other day. She mentioned Michael’s funeral and when I could expect the coroner’s report but she never said anything about him.’
‘I didn’t think they would let you know. Probably thought you would turn up trying to get revenge but that’s why I did a bit of digging around. I wanted to help you and thought you’d appreciate the info.’ Gary leans forward again, and whispers to me, ‘I called the crematorium and the guy on the phone said he’d been done on the cheap. One of those without any service, nothing.’
To be brutal, I didn’t really care. He killed my husband and ruined my life.
‘Good,’ I snap. ‘The bastard. He is still someone else’s son though. I’m not sure what kind of family he came from. It didn’t sound good by the impression Sharon gave me.’
‘I’ve only ever spoken to Sharon over the phone,’ Gary replies. ‘Her northern accent sounds a little like yours. She’s a bit flat though. She doesn’t give anything away, does she?’
‘Sharon annoys me but it must be a really depressing job,’ I continue. ‘She’s supposed to be some kind of support person but I can hardly get her to tell me anything. I can’t warm to her because she’s so black and white with everything. At least talking to you about it feels less formal.’
I didn’t want to come all this way to talk about Michael’s death. I don’t want to cry in public around people who don’t know me. People who don’t know or care about my circumstances.
‘You know, sometimes I think it would have been easier if my wife had died instead of travelling abroad after the divorce,’ Gary says, ‘but being here with you now, you remind me of her at times. In a good way, she was good-natured at heart. You’re great company too.’
For a moment I watch him, and it’s like I am sat here with Michael. His demeanour was the same. His body language and mannerisms all remind me of my husband.
‘Is everything ok?’ Gary asks. He sounds concerned and I snap out of my daydream. ‘You’ve been staring into space.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I reply, sounding embarrassed. ‘This happens at times. I was just thinking about Michael. His funeral is next week.’
‘Shall we change the subject?’ Gary suggests. ‘You’ve come all this way and I was thinking that every time we see each other we always talk about Michael.’
He isn’t wrong. Every waking minute I am thinking about Michael.
‘In an alternate reality, say we had just met and this was our first date,’ Gary continues, ‘what qualities would you be looking for in me?’
That’s a bit of a strange question. It has shocked me. The last thing I want is for Gary to think there’s more to me meeting him than friendship. I instantly think of Donna and her words ring in my ear about how cosy things are between us. I need to make sure he understands the message. I don’t want anyone else. I can’t even begin to think about letting another man in my life that way so soon after losing my husband.
‘I don’t know,’ I reply, awkwardly shaking my head. ‘I’ve never thought about another man. I don’t want another man in my life. I can’t imagine dating ever again at the minute. It’s just going to be me and Daniel from now on.’
‘That’s good, it shows you’re a kind, decent person,’ Gary replies. ‘So don’t let Donna get her claws into your son. No one can take him away from you. Make sure you can trust her.’
I think about Gary’s words. Donna’s interest in Daniel is now coming across unhealthy and disrespectful. I’m not an alcoholic mother who leaves her son in his bedroom all day, despite what she thinks. Daniel only saw that special juice once, twice at most. I’ve cut back on the wine now.
‘I don’t trust her, that’s my problem. I’m not going to let her keep Daniel.’
In the back of my mind I keep thinking I should have made a move already, I haven’t got much time left. Gary continues to ask me personal questions about my childhood and then diverts the conversation to his own troubled upbringing. Michael’s office isn’t far from here. I should have called them by now but I didn’t want to arrange an appointment in case I changed my mind at the last minute. It’s been tough doing this on my own.
The main reason I am going in is to tell them in person about the funeral arrangements. I may have to face clearing his desk but I have hopes that his office could hold clues or paperwork that lead me to who he was meeting that night. I haven’t forgotten what Lizzie told me either about him handing over a wad of cash to some men near the shopping centre. I could investigate that further but I feel like I would have known if Michael was on drugs. It seems odd that Lizzie was implying he was paying drug pushers and I now know that he was run over by a known drug user who had a suspended sentence. Was Michael there that night to pay the guy that killed him?
Someone out there must know the truth.
Twenty-Six
Jenny
It felt like a mile but it was only a ten-minute walk. After leaving Gary at the cafe and convincing him that I was more than capable of heading to Michael’s office alone, here I am, standing at the entrance. All I am thinking is that I have to try to find some answers. I don’t want Gary to see me going through my husband’s belongings or questioning Michael’s colleagues for information. I know he offered his support but these finer details are for me to digest. I’m trying to work out who my husband could have been meeting, who he was handing over money to and why we are in so much debt.
‘Every day, Michael,’ I say out loud as if he can hear me, ‘this is where you spent most of your time, rather than at home with your son and me.’
I cross the road, keeping my eye on the view of the tower block of offices. I’ve never been here before, although I’ve driven past a few times and waited outside before to meet Michael after work. I’ve not been here for months. Never had any need to be either. Michael has never been inside my office but he came along to a couple of the Christmas parties before. I asked him to promise me that he’d never get drunk and show me up in front of my friends and colleagues. He kept his word while I, on the other hand, would forget how much wine I’d had and end up crawling across the floor.
‘It’s not me you have to worry about, Jen,’ he’d say, ‘you’re the one who can’t handle your booze.’
He was right, which is why I’ve decided not to do a wake after the funeral. I want it over with. I can’t celebrate his life when there is so much to it I never knew about. It feels like I am closing the door on a life that I thought I enjoyed and a man that I trusted and loved as my husband, the father of our child. Deceitful memories are now overshadowing the love we shared with each other. I wonder how much longer Michael would have lied to me – how much more debt he would have racked up if he was still alive? Loans and credit cards all out of control. I had an accountant for a husband who couldn’t manage our own finances. It doesn’t feel right. My gut instinct is that somewhere along this chain of deception is a missing link.
I’d better get inside. I haven’t got that much time to spare before catching the bus back home for Daniel. I press the buzzer and wait.
‘Hello, Sphere and Co, how may I help you?’ A female voice from the system on the wall waits for my response.
‘Hi, I’m Michael’s wife, Jenny,’ I reply, leaning into the wall to be clear. ‘Jenny Clifton.’
; The buzzer sounds and I hear the click of the lock signalling the door is unlocked. I pull it open and choose to take the stairs rather than the elevator as it’s only one floor up. I see the company logo with the door number and I make my way up the stairs. I remain calm and composed because these are Michael’s colleagues, a whole room of professionals who might have questions to ask about the funeral. I glance through the window of the office door, see a short woman in her fifties typing away on a reception desk and I go through. That feeling of all eyes on me returns.
‘Hi, I’m Jenny,’ I say, standing at the desk while the woman looks at me. ‘Michael’s wife.’
I look around the office and can see rows of tables with laptops, paperwork and filing cabinets everywhere. I wonder which one was Michael’s desk.
‘We all heard the news about his death,’ she replies. ‘We are so sorry for your loss. I remember Michael well and he was quite a character. How can I help you?’
I’m not expecting her reaction, which feels a little off. I start to hear the background voices fade as the office draws to silence.
‘I’m here to let you know that Michael’s funeral is the day after tomorrow,’ I reply. ‘I’m sorry for not contacting sooner but everyone is welcome to attend. It’s at the Westbridge Crematorium, eleven o’clock.’
The receptionist nods her head and writes down the details. I look left and right. There are a few people on the phone but everyone else is looking in my direction. There must have been about ten people in the office.
‘Can I see Michael’s desk?’ I ask, looking at the empty spaces and trying to guess which was his. ‘Do you need me to clear out anything?’
The receptionist looks confused. I wasn’t expecting to be overwhelmed with compassion but she seems more lost than I am.
‘Mrs Clifton,’ she responds. ‘Would you like to take a seat for a minute while I get Brad, the office manager? Bear with me.’
I don’t even have the chance to sit down as I watch her glance and nod in the direction of a large male in his sixties. If this is the office manager, this must be Brad. Michael often complained about the targets and expectations set by him. He’s heading over so I remain standing.
‘The news about Michael shocked every single one of us,’ Brad says after he’s introduced himself, holding out his hand for a shake. ‘It’s terrible, tragic news. What with that on top of everything else.’
I can feel myself pulling away – the expression on my face distorting. What did he mean?
‘Excuse me?’ I ask. ‘Everything else?’
My expression must have spoken for me. I’m panicking. What does he mean? It’s a very odd response. What else does he know about Michael?
‘The investigation,’ Brad replies, looking at me to suggest it was obvious. ‘It’s no secret. He was suspended six months ago without pay while awaiting the outcome of our findings into his accounting history. There’s an investigative accounting team on the…’
I shake my head. I’ve raised a hand to my mouth to display my shock. The whole office is still looking at me because it’s clear now I shouldn’t be here. It’s not registering with me? What is he saying?
‘What?’ I interrupt. ‘Are you saying that he wasn’t working here? You’ve not seen him in six months?’
It doesn’t seem real. I’m shaking again with the nerves and all I can think is that something serious must be happening. Something so big I might need to contact the police after the funeral. Fraud investigation? For six months? Michael lied to me. I’m angry and upset. I feel cheated and deceived.
‘No,’ Brad replies. ‘He was accused of stealing some sums of money. Would you like to come into my office for some privacy. I didn’t realise that you weren’t aware, I’m so sorry. I assumed you must have known?’
I’m speechless, embarrassed and feel sick to my stomach.
‘No, I’m ok, it’s ok,’ I reply, in barely a whisper. ‘I had no idea, I…’
‘Take a seat just behind you,’ Brad continues, leading me to the chairs, all six of them lined in a row for visitors and thankfully all empty. ‘Can I get you anything to drink, water?’
I sit down. I’m overwhelmed by my need to get out of this office and back home to contemplate the sheer scale of Michael’s deception. He was even stealing money from his firm. I’m trying to understand; if he wasn’t working here for six months, then what was he doing? He used to leave the house every day with a suit on, some days even with a briefcase. All those projects he said he was working on for his clients. I even sent him off with some packed lunches. My mind is overwhelmed with questions.
‘I’m sorry, I need some air,’ I reply. ‘I need to go, I’m sorry.’
I stand back up but I don’t look at the rest of the office who stare at me as if I’m an imposter. The wife of a fraudster.
‘So, you have no idea who my husband went to meet at the hotel?’ I ask – one last burning question before I forget. ‘The night he died – he went to meet a new client?’
‘Not one of ours,’ Brad responds without any hesitation. ‘We don’t know anything about it.’
The space around me is closing in on me. I can’t believe what I am hearing. If Donna knew she would have said, wouldn’t she? Something on this scale I don’t think she would have kept from me. Michael hid this lie from us all.
I can’t expose anything until after his funeral. Just another day to get through. Another long, troubling day of wondering what Michael was hiding from me. All these lies, his debts, the stealing, and his suspension from work. I can’t tell anyone what I know, not yet. I’ve got to try to piece together this puzzle on my own.
Twenty-Seven
Gary
The pile of Michael’s clothes is stacked up in the corner of my living room. I look at them from a distance while seated on the remains of my sofa. The house is still a mess because I can’t find the energy to clean it. I can’t be bothered with this massive house. I should have left it a long time ago rather than rattle around in it all on my own. The silence is calming, it really helps, and I’ve stopped reading Jenny’s texts over and over. I know that we are friends now. I think that she realises that we have a connection. Since our meeting in the cafe, I’ve got to know her a lot better too. She even said we were friends. That’s definitely progress.
I look at the suits Michael has worn: his shirts, jumpers, T-shirts and ties. He had good taste but the clothing I remember the most was what he was wearing when he died. I can’t escape that horrific image – a scene that happened so fast. I can still hear that last breath. His body jolted as he became lifeless. I am reminded of my own mortality when I fixate on that gasp. Michael died in what was a personal moment between us. I felt his fingers and grip weaken with mine – and then he was gone. An instant switch between life and death.
On days like today I have a sense of calm and can accept my demons. These moments are rare but I sit myself down and remind myself that I can’t change anything. What’s happened has happened but I will still get to have my own way. I wish I knew where my ex-wife was. She’ll always be the true love of my life. I hope one day she can forgive me, as I have forgiven her.
I’ve darkened the room by closing the curtains and leaving only a lamp on. The dim light soothes me when I am in this state of mind. I’ve come to realise that my wealth is no longer important. My business deals – car rental income, a local shop managed by staff selling car maintenance products, a handful of shops I purchased to become a landlord within Westbridge City Centre– made me powerful and wealthy. I grew my business from nothing. I couldn’t have done it without my wife, though. We were a team: a force to be reckoned with when we got our minds together. She also destroyed me.
I sit here, stroking the material of the trousers. This suit fits me better than I thought it would. Michael had good expensive taste and this is a rather classy suit. I’ve been through all of the clothes and most are designerwear which makes me wonder how he could have so much expensive clothing and y
et such a small house for his family. It’s like someone who was keeping up appearances.
The shirt fits me well but his blazer is too big for me. I’m starting to lose weight. I worry too much. Although Jenny trusted me to take these clothes to a charity shop, I can’t bring myself to take them there because by keeping hold of them, I get a feel for how she liked her men to dress. Michael had good style. I’ve been through all of the bags and tried on everything I could but I’m undecided what suit of his to wear to his own funeral. The one I am wearing now is the most comfortable. Will anyone even notice?
Now that Michael’s funeral is fast approaching, I need to come clean to Jenny. I have to tell her how I feel. How she makes me feel. She’s too focused on herself and Daniel to even notice me but I want her to know that I thought we could have been more than friends.
‘I don’t want another man in my life. I can’t imagine dating ever again at the minute. It’s just going to be me and Daniel from now on.’ Jenny’s words repeat over in my head. I’m disappointed but she didn’t have to make it so blunt. She said we were friends. She’s lonely too so I know she understands what it feels like to have no one who you can trust or support. I never expected to meet her and feel this way about her.
I keep wondering whether, if my wife had died rather than left me, my life would have taken a different direction. I blame my demons on the stress and I blame the stress on all those that took advantage of me. They took advantage of my business and my good nature.
I’ve tried to imagine Michael’s funeral. I’ve assumed Jenny will be seated at the front row alongside his parents. I know that her own parents are coming down the night before. I imagine they will all take up the front row with Michael’s work colleagues and friends filling the rows behind. I wonder where Jenny would want me to sit? Not only was I witness to his death but Jenny and I are now friends. Should I be on the front row too?
From the conversations I’ve had with Jenny, it is coming across that Michael’s mother is trying to make all the decisions. Donna is playing on Jenny’s vulnerable mental state. I think she wants to have Daniel and will manipulate Jenny until she gets her own way. She’s a mother grieving for her son and whose only link to him is her grandson. If Jenny isn’t careful, Donna will end up taking control.