Jac’s arms were around her shoulders as the tears fell again. Jac held her, rocked her, whispered words like ‘you don’t need to be sorry’ and ‘I’ve got you’, ‘cry all you need to’, ‘I’m here for you, baby’, and the biggest lie of all—‘it’ll be okay’. Jac whispered them all for her. But it wouldn’t be okay. A week. Two at most.
Time passed. Sasha couldn’t even guess at how long Jac stood behind her chair, just holding her. Minutes? An hour? Two? She’d stopped looking at the clock. It was only ticking away the time on those last days, and she prayed instead that it would stop moving. She closed her eyes and tried to remember that poem. The one she’d first heard in Four Weddings and a Funeral. W.H. Auden.
Stop all the clocks. That was how it started. Stop all the clocks. But that was all she could remember. She couldn’t remember the next line, only that she wished she could follow that instruction.
When the tears dried on her cheeks, Jac kissed her, asked if she’d be okay while she went to the house.
Sasha didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She was still fixated on that bloody line. “The Funeral Blues.” The Funeral fucking Blues. She’s not even dead yet, and all I can think of is The Funeral fucking Blues.
“Why, Mum? Why didn’t you tell me?” Sasha growled through gritted teeth as she swipped at tears again. She was sick of crying already.
“Because I knew you’d want me to go through it all again, baby.” Fleur’s voice was surprisingly strong, considering she’d supposedly just woken up.
“How long have you been awake?”
“Not that long.”
Sasha stared at her.
“Go on. Ask.”
“Why did you give up? Why didn’t you fight?”
Fleur reached out to touch Sasha. Sasha wanted to shy away, but the need for her mother’s comfort was too great. She didn’t remember moving, but before she knew it, she was laid beside her mother, head on her shoulder, arm about her waist, and crying more tears.
“I’m going to be dried out like a raisin if I keep crying like this.” She swiped at them, trying to catch them before they fell on Fleur’s sheets.
“Doesn’t matter. And I didn’t give up. This battle, baby girl, was one I couldn’t win.”
“You don’t know that. You didn’t even try.”
“I do know that. I know myself, Sasha. And I know what I can tolerate and what I can’t. They couldn’t even promise me that treatment would buy me more time, and that was the only thing that would have made it worth fighting for. More time with you, my beautiful, precious girl.”
“And I’ve been spending all my time working on the film or with Jac.” Sasha sat up and glared at her mother. “If I’d known…if you’d told me, I wouldn’t have taken the damn job. I could have spent all my time with you.” Her refusal to tell Sasha had robbed them of this time together. Stolen precious moments, memories Sasha would have treasured.
“The greatest gift I’ve had in all this is seeing you happy. Seeing you blossom and discover this new career you’re embarking on. Watching you fall in love with Jac. Gaining new friends in Sophie and Mags. Knowing that when I go, you’ll have people around you to help you, look after you. They’ll all be there for you. Along with Bobbi.”
“Does she know?”
“No. Only Mike knows. He’s been helping me.”
“By sleeping with you?”
“Among other things, yes.”
“But I don’t understand. Why start a relationship with him if you knew…?” She waved her hand up and down Fleur’s body.
“That I was at death’s doorstep?”
Sasha’s cheeks burned but she nodded. They didn’t have time to piss and arse about being delicate. Fleur had seen to that.
“I wanted to experience everything I could. At least one last time. Mike, well, he’s an unusual man; I’ll give him that. I’m sure you don’t want all the details of how it came about, but, basically, I was high one night and was just talking. Like I do. Saying pretty much anything that came into my head. I told him I missed sex. Missed being held by a lover. I missed the closeness and intimacy. I hadn’t had that since your father passed away, and I was regretting that. I was feeling my mortality and wishing I’d had a bit more fun with my life, I suppose.” She sighed. “I didn’t think much of it. To be honest I didn’t really remember a great deal of it, but the next day, he came to me and offered his assistance in the matter.”
“Even though he knew?”
“Oh, yes, I made quite sure he knew what he was signing up for before anything happened. I made him no promises but a bit of a workout, and he offered to hold me as much as I liked.”
Sasha tried to wrap her head around it. In a way, it was no different to a short fling, she supposed. But it was her mother. Her dying mother.
“He gave me something I needed for a little while. And I’m very grateful to him for that.”
“Do you love him?”
“I care for him, of course. But no, I don’t love him. Not like I did your father, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.”
“Does it matter? It made me feel better for a little while.”
The soft-spoken words pulled Sasha up short. She lifted her face to meet her mother’s gaze. Fleur was right. In her shock, Sasha had forgotten that this wasn’t about her. It wasn’t about her losing her mother, it wasn’t about her anger at not having all this time with Fleur. It was about Fleur. It was about her death and what she needed to do to deal with that. Sasha’s emotions could be dealt with later. She’d be here to deal with them later. Fleur wouldn’t.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. It was such a shock that I couldn’t get past the thought that you refused to tell me and that I was going to lose you. I didn’t think about everything you’ve been dealing with all this time. I’m sorry.” She laid her head back on Fleur’s shoulder.
“No need to be sorry. I was planning to tell you soon. Probably this weekend. I just wanted to know you and Bobbi had things worked out first. I knew I didn’t have much time left, and I know you two will need each other.”
So many things began to slip into place. “You knew when you entered me into the competition, didn’t you?”
“Bobbi entered you into that.”
“You paid for it. Now answer the question,” she spoke crossly, but there was a smile on her lips as her mother’s actions began to make sense to her.
“Yes.”
“Why?” Sasha suspected she knew what Fleur was going to say, but she wanted to hear it from her.
“Because I wanted you to be happy. I want you to always be happy. And if you’d still been in that crappy little job, living in our house when I go and pop me clogs, well, I wasn’t sure how you’d have pulled yourself out of that rut. And you deserved so much better, my darling. I wanted so much more for you. I wanted you to be happy, and the only way for you to find that was to start you down this path.”
“You could never have known I’d win it. That it was the right path for me—”
“The crystals showed me it was the right path for you, that it would lead you to your true happiness.”
“Mum,” she said around a heavy sigh. “You know I don’t believe in all that—”
“You don’t have to believe all that crap, as you like to call it. I do. I did. And it led you to Jac. It led you to this film. And that’s enough for me to believe in it all for the rest of my life.” She chortled. Sasha sat up and stared at her incredulously. “For the rest of my days!” Fleur cried. “Get it?”
Sasha opened her mouth to tell her off. To tell her it wasn’t funny. Instead, she found herself laughing. Perched on the edge of her mother’s bed, holding her frail hands, they laughed until they both cried.
“Don’t think of becoming a stand-up comedienne,”
Sasha said when their laughter finally quieted to chuckles.
“No? I thought I’d be dead funny.”
Sasha groaned. “Not funny.”
“Should I try clog dancing, then? I could pop those babies anytime.”
“So not funny.”
“Oh, you know I’m the life and soul of every party.”
“These are getting worse.”
“No, they’re not. They’re getting better.”
“You’ve been practicing?”
“Hell, yeah. I want everyone to see me on top form before I have left the building.” She deepened her voice and shook her hips, pointing one hand in the air and giving it her best Elvis impression.
“Don’t do that one again, Mum; you’ll throw your back out.”
That one earned her a laugh and a slap on the back. “That’s my girl.”
Sasha tightened her arms around Fleur’s waist, determined not to cry again. Fleur had made it clear. She wasn’t going out moping and lamenting the unfairness of it all. No, Sasha could do that the moment she walked out of that door. If Fleur wanted to see her laugh, she would laugh. If Fleur wanted to tell bad jokes, then she’d join in. This was about Fleur. Fleur’s goodbye.
Jac let herself into Sasha and Fleur’s home and flicked on the light switch. Nip wound herself around her feet and ankles, meowing loudly.
“Hey there, Miss Thing. What’re you up to?” She bent down and stroked the top of her head and snatched her hand back quickly when Nip sat back on her back legs, front paws spread, claws out, and poised to catch her hand like it was an annoying fly.
“Whoa, whoa, chill. Let’s get you fed and see if that settles your ninja-kitty skills out a bit.” She headed for the kitchen, not sure where she’d find the cat food, but she figured Fleur’s brownie tin would be on the kitchen counter if she couldn’t find it. A stoned Nip was a peaceful Nip. “Sasha never told me you were some sort of guard cat.”
With her cat food located and served, Nip was a happy pussy again, no brownies required. Jac made her way to Fleur’s bedroom. The suitcase was right where Sasha had said it would be, but when it was opened and laid on Fleur’s bed, Jac was at a loss. What do you pack for something like this? What does a person need in a hospice? She looked around the room. Fleur’s room.
There were pictures on top of the bedside table, on the chest of drawers, all over the walls. Pictures of her and a man who looked a lot like Sasha. Pictures of Fleur and Sasha. Pictures of Sasha with her dad. Pictures of just Sasha. Ones Jac hadn’t seen before. A little girl missing her front tooth, and a teen with a dreadful perm, neon socks, and pink-and-purple eyeshadow. It was truly scary, but Jac loved it. Looking at where it was on the wall, right opposite the bed, she guessed that Fleur did too. She imagined it appealing to the quirky woman, probably mostly because it would embarrass Sasha. She took it from the wall and put it in the suitcase. The one beside the bed, a family picture of the three of them, with a twenty-something-year-old Sasha grinning into the camera, went in next.
Yes, Fleur would need nightclothes, underwear, toiletries. But she’d need more than that, right? She’d need it to feel like her space. Jac would in her place. Maybe. Or would that make it harder? Seeing the pictures of happy times? Jac didn’t know. She sat on the bed like pins had been pulled from her knees.
She couldn’t imagine what Fleur or Sasha would be feeling right now. Well, she knew Sasha was in shock. But that would wear off, and then what? What emotion would be lying underneath it all?
Would she feel lost? Like Jac had when she’d figured out no one was ever going to come for her like they had for the other kids. Would she feel anger at the unfairness of it? Or would the grief and sorrow supersede it all? No way to know until the shock wore off. All Jac could do was be there. Hold her. Let her cry and vent and shout and scream, and cry some more. Whatever she needed.
“You better be fucking ready for this, Kensington, because she is going to need all the help she can get.”
But Jac wasn’t ready. She’d known Fleur hardly any time at all, and the thought of the vibrant, wonderful, quirky woman not being around anymore to make them all shudder at her sex life, her giant spliffs, or her waxing lyrical about her latest pot-filled brownie recipe just didn’t compute. She wanted a cigarette, but she’d quit. She wanted a drink, but she needed to be able to drive, to function, to do whatever Sasha needed her to do. She wanted to go back to yesterday when it was all perfect. But there was no going back, only going forwards. She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialled.
“This better be good, Pan-pan. I was about to get my freak on with my wife.”
“Sasha’s mum collapsed while we were out this afternoon. She’s just been admitted to St Ann’s Hospice.”
Silence.
Jac carried on. “Pancreatic cancer. The nurse said she’s got a couple of weeks, tops.”
Sophie still didn’t say anything.
“I’m trying to pack some stuff for Fleur now. Sasha’s there with her. Sasha didn’t even know. Fleur never said anything to her. She’s known for nine months and she never said anything. And I don’t know what to pack, Soph. There’s a suitcase here, but I don’t—I put in these two pictures because I thought that might make it feel more like home, you know? But what if she doesn’t want that? What if that’s the wrong thing to do and it upsets her? Or upsets Sasha? What will she want, Soph? Please, tell me what to pack.”
Sophie’s voice was thick and raspy. “Give me the address.” Jac reeled it off the top of her head. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes, Jac. Just hold on, okay?”
Jac nodded, then remembered she couldn’t see her. “Okay.”
When Sophie hung up, Jac dropped the phone on the bed and looked at the rest of the pictures. The story of Fleur and Sasha’s lives was played out across the walls of the room, from the ubiquitous baby-on-a-rug picture to school pictures. Holiday snapshots of a toddler on a beach with a nappy halfway down her legs, grinning atop a donkey with Blackpool Tower in the background. Sasha’s little face scowling at the camera, arms folded over her chest and a definite bowl cut to her lovely hair. Jac wondered if the cut had caused the scowl or something else. She made a mental note to ask about it later.
When the doorbell sounded, Jac answered, expecting it to be Sophie, but found Mike Hunt looking up at her.
“Oh, hello,” he said. “Fleur about?”
“I’m sorry, no.”
“Oh, do you know when she’ll be back?” Jac was torn. She didn’t want to go blabbing Fleur’s personal business, but at the same time this guy was her…boyfriend…and it wasn’t like she’d be able to hide what was going on for long.
Jac took a deep breath. “She’s not very well, Mr Hunt.”
He held his hand up. “Mike, please. So it’s happened, then? The hospice?”
“You knew?”
He nodded.
“Wow. How come you knew but Sasha didn’t?”
“Well, women are a funny breed. Happen you know what I mean, hey, lass?”
Jac almost wanted to point out that she was a woman, but it looked like he had more to say, and she wanted to hear it. If what he had to say could help her to help Sasha later, well, then it was worth listening to his outdated ideas. It wasn’t the first time someone had assumed her to be “the man” in the relationship when they saw her. Hell, even one or two of her exes had.
“When I asked Fleur that very question, she said it were all about them bloody crystal things she uses. Said they told her that she had to get Sasha settled on’t right path before she started pushing up’t daisies.”
“The crystals? That’s what you’re telling me?”
“Aye, that’s what I thought n’all. Load a bloody codswallop. But she said that all’t crystals told her was that this competition thing was the way to go. She believed that the universe would take care of’t rest for
her. She said she’d asked for nowt all her life; now her dying wish were that Sasha were sorted before she were measured up for that there wooden box, like.”
“That still doesn’t explain why she didn’t tell Sasha.”
“Aye, it do. She knew Sasha would wait on her hand and foot if she knew. Poor lass’d never leave her mam’s side if she’d known how ill she were. She’d have never gone and chased those big dreams of hers.” He inclined his head at Jac. “She’d have never have met you.”
“You’re telling me the bloody crystals brought me and Sasha together? The same crystals I’ve seen Fleur wave over a plate of hash brownies to decide which one she’s going to eat? Those crystals?”
Mike grinned. “Nah, I said that’s what Fleur said.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I think ’im upstairs ’as a plan myself. But I’m guessing you’re not the sort sitting in his camp either, are ya?”
Jac shook her head. “Never been much of a fan of religion.”
“Didn’t think so. So you call it what you like, lass. Fate, serendipity, karma, universe, crystals, or just one bloody stubborn and pig-headed woman trying to do what she thought was the right thing. Don’t matter none to me. All I know is that Fleur enjoyed every second she could, right up till she couldn’t no more. She has a daughter she loves more than life itself, and she’s had a good life, a life she’s loved and one she wanted to say goodbye to on her own terms.” He licked his lips. “I think we all have to respect that. Whether we agree with it or not.”
Sophie’s car pulled into the street, slowing as she sought out a parking space.
“I’ll be heading back there in a little while. Do you want to come with me?”
Mike shook his head. “That was one of Fleur’s rules to our little arrangement. Once she left this house, I wasn’t to see her again.” He smiled sadly. “She said she wanted me to remember her as she was here. Not as she’ll be in there.”
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