After I've Gone

by Linda Green

  ‘Then I think about it a lot. But that’s just being sensible, isn’t it?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, if you think about death you’ve got a better chance of avoiding it, haven’t you? I mean, we tell kids to cross the road safely so they don’t get run over. That’s thinking about death, isn’t it? It’s just that people say that’s sensible.’

  ‘Is that how you see it? As a safety device?’

  ‘Yeah. You’re careful when you cross the road, so why not be careful when you get on a train, or careful where you go out? I don’t see the difference.’

  ‘Is that why you won’t go to Manchester?’

  ‘People get shot in Manchester.’

  ‘So you don’t think it’s safe to go there?’

  ‘No. Clearly it’s not.’

  ‘And what if I said the young men who were shot in Manchester last year – and they were all young men – were deliberately targeted, not random victims?’

  I shrug. ‘People get caught in crossfire, don’t they? You can’t be too careful.’

  Edward nods and writes something down. They must have a lot of notes on me now. All the things Paula wrote and now all the things Edward is writing. It doesn’t mean they know me or understand me. It just means they think they do.

  ‘You didn’t think like this before your mother died, though, did you?’

  ‘No. But it’s like people don’t stop smoking until they’re told they have lung cancer. It’s a wake-up call, isn’t it?’

  ‘So you see your mother’s death as a wake-up call? Only she didn’t die in an accident, did she? She died from bowel cancer. She couldn’t have prevented that.’

  ‘Yes, she could. She could have avoided meat. I don’t eat red meat anymore because too much of it gives you bowel cancer.’

  ‘Well, we can’t say that for certain, only that there are studies linking red meat with an increased risk.’

  ‘Exactly. That’s what it’s all about – risk. I’m cutting down my risk. Doctors tell you to do that all the time, don’t they? Don’t smoke. Don’t drink. Don’t eat fatty foods. Exercise more. Lose weight. It’s all about cutting down your risk of dying. Except when they say it, they’re being sensible, and when I say it about other things, I’m considered a nutter.’

  I cross my arms as I finish. Edward doesn’t say anything. I think I might have convinced him that I am right.

  Angela

  Sunday, 28 August 2016

  It is when she hardly touches her dinner that I know. She just about manages her Yorkshire pudding, but even as I put the beef in front of her, she looks close to retching. She is pale, too, and slightly gaunt in the face. She has never looked gaunt before. I thought she looked a bit peaky last week, and she didn’t eat as much as usual, but nothing like this. She cuts things up and pushes them around her plate for a bit before finally looking up. I see Lee catch her eye and raise an eyebrow; she gives a tiny shake of her head.

  I decide it is kindest to put her out of her misery.

  ‘Oh, Jess, why ever didn’t you tell me?’ I put down my knife and fork and rush around to her side of the table to whisk the plate from under her nose. I return and look down at both of them in turn before bursting into tears.

  ‘I’m so, so happy for you both,’ I say, bending to give Jess a hug before planting a huge kiss on Lee’s cheek. ‘You must be absolutely delighted.’

  They look at each other again. Jess shrugs and Lee looks up at me.

  ‘Thanks,’ he says. ‘We are. Jess wanted to wait until she was three months before telling anyone, but I guess you worked it out anyway.’

  ‘I was exactly the same with our Lee,’ I say, turning back to Jess. ‘I couldn’t look at a cooked meal without feeling like I was going to throw up. Horrible, it was. And it wasn’t just in the mornings either, it was pretty much twenty-four hours.’

  ‘I know. Mine’s the same. It’s got much worse since last week. I’ve hardly been able to eat.’

  ‘Can I get you summat else? Soup and a roll? Or even dry crackers? I remember eating a lot of crackers when I was pregnant.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe I’ll try crackers, thanks.’

  I pop a couple of Jacobs on a plate and bring them over. She nibbles around the edges first, then takes a few larger bites.

  ‘Well, at least there’s summat you can eat. You can take that packet home with you, love. Little and often, that’s what my mum used to say. So, when’s it due?’

  ‘Around the second week in April, but I haven’t had a scan yet so I haven’t got an exact date.’

  ‘Oh, a spring baby will be lovely, you’ll have all the summer stretching in front of you. I remember it always being so dark in January when I was up early in the mornings with Lee.’

  ‘I guess it’ll be nice to be able to go out for walks with the buggy.’

  ‘Well, I insist that I buy you the buggy. I want to get something practical for you. As long as I get a turn pushing it, of course.’

  Jess looks at Lee.

  ‘Thanks,’ he says, when he’s finished his mouthful. ‘That would be great. But don’t go mad getting stuff. We’ve got plenty of time yet.’

  ‘Jess doesn’t want to be traipsing around looking at buggies when she’s seven months pregnant. Now’s the time to do it.’

  ‘Maybe once the sickness has gone,’ says Jess.

  ‘Yes, of course. Though it didn’t go until sixteen weeks for me, but let’s hope you’re luckier than that. Anyway, we can start looking online, can’t we? Makes the whole thing a lot easier.’

  Jess takes another bite of her cracker. Lee gets back to his beef. I suspect he’s a bit nervous about it all. It’s a big responsibility, fatherhood. I stand by what I said, though. It will be the making of him. It’ll be good for him to have a wife and baby to come home to – stop him being too career-obsessed.

  ‘Ooh,’ I say out loud as I realise. ‘And you’ll be moving, too, of course.’

  Jess looks at Lee again.

  ‘We’re probably just going to get a bigger apartment in the same block.’

  I frown at him, not sure I’ve heard right. ‘You’ll need a proper family home, though,’ I say.

  ‘It’ll be fine while the baby’s small. We can get something bigger later.’

  ‘But it’s no place to be living with a baby, is it? What if the lift breaks? There’s no way she can get a buggy up those stairs.’

  Lee gives a little roll of his eyes. He used to do it all the time as a teenager. There is a steeliness in his eyes when he speaks. One I remember only too well.

  ‘The lift’s never been out of order since I moved there. We don’t have to move to a semi-detached in suburbia just because Jess is pregnant.’

  I suppose the dig is aimed at me. Lee loved our garden as a little boy. He was always out there, kicking a ball around or digging in the flower beds. But as soon as he became a teenager, he decided that he hated Horsforth. Said it was boring and there was nothing going on. He always said he was going to move to the city centre as soon as he could, and that’s what he did. Rented first when he came back from uni and bought when he started earning good money. The city centre isn’t a place to bring up a child, though. It really isn’t.

  I want to say something, but I know I have to be careful. I don’t want him snapping in front of Jess. It’s not pretty and I don’t want her to see him like that.

  ‘Well, maybe it’s fine for now, but you’ll have to move eventually for the schools, won’t you? Can’t imagine there are any nice ones in the city centre.’

  ‘We’ll probably go private,’ he replies.

  ‘What, waste your money on fancy uniforms when there are perfectly good state schools around here? The primary up the road is outstanding. I’ve seen the banner on its railings as I’ve driven past.’

  Lee puts
his cutlery down on the side of his plate with a clank. ‘I said we’re fine for now, thank you.’

  His tone tells me I have said enough. I glance up and see Jess frowning at him. I will change the subject. I don’t want things getting any more heated than they already are. I am good at changing the subject. I have had to be.

  ‘Did you see Bake Off this week? A girl from Leeds is on it. Ever so good, she is. Her choux pastry looked amazing.

  *

  I wait till we’ve finished dinner and Lee is loading up the dishwasher before going back into the lounge to see Jess.

  ‘Come upstairs for a bit, love. We can start having a look for buggies on the internet.’

  Jess follows me up the stairs and into the guest room. I turn the computer on and wait. It always takes a minute or two to start up. Lee tells me it’s because it’s old and I need to upgrade, but I don’t see what the big hurry is.

  ‘Here we are,’ I say, bringing up the Mamas & Papas page. ‘There’s one of these in Leeds we can go to. Let’s have a look at what they’ve got.’

  The page comes up with a bewildering array of options, including travel systems, buggies, pushchairs and prams.

  ‘I suppose you need a travel system, don’t you?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ says Jess.

  ‘I think they’re the ones where you just pick up the car seat and attach it to the frame of the buggy, so you don’t have to worry about waking up the baby.’

  I glance across at Jess as I say it. She has tears in her eyes.

  ‘Oh, love,’ I say, reaching across and giving her hand a squeeze. ‘There’s no need to get upset about it.’

  ‘I haven’t got a clue,’ she says. ‘I don’t know what I need. I don’t know anything about babies. How the hell am I going to be able to look after one?’

  The tears fall properly now. I put my arm around her and pat her shoulder.

  ‘Don’t you worry,’ I say. ‘Everyone feels a bit like that at the beginning. I certainly did. We were all learner drivers once, you know. No one’s expecting you to be an expert.’

  ‘You honestly didn’t have a clue either?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Then how did you know what to do?’

  ‘Instinct, I suppose. And my mum was a huge help.’

  I realise as soon as I have said it. She lets out another sob.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make things worse. I know it’s going to be tough without your mum, but I want you to remember I’ll be there for you every step of the way. You can call me any time, day or night, and no question will be too daft, OK?’

  She nods and wipes her nose with her hand. I go and get a tissue from the box and hand it to her.

  ‘And I’ll come over every day to help out, especially at the beginning. I’ll make sure you’re not on your own when Lee goes back to work.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she mumbles. ‘That’s really kind of you.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. This is my first grandchild. I want to spend every second I can with them. It will be a pleasure to be on hand. Consider me hired.’

  She manages a little smile before blowing her nose.

  ‘Look,’ I say, shutting down the computer. ‘Why don’t we do this another day, when you’re feeling up to it. There’s summat else I want to show you before you go.’

  I bend down, pull out the bottom drawer and take out the christening robe wrapped in tissue paper.

  ‘This was Lee’s. I want you to have it for your baby’s christening.’

  She starts crying again – if she even stopped, that is. She barely looks at it, to be honest, before she wraps it back up in the tissue paper.

  ‘Thanks,’ she whispers. ‘It’s beautiful. Can you keep it here until nearer the time? At least until we’ve moved.’

  ‘Of course,’ I say, taking it from her and putting it back in the drawer. I catch her expression as I stand up. She’s frowning.

  ‘What are all those other things?’ she asks.

  ‘Oh, just some bits and bobs I’ve got in ready.’

  ‘But you’ve only just found out.’

  ‘Well, yes. But it was only a matter of timing, wasn’t it?’

  She walks towards the door. I think she’s still worried about what Lee said earlier.

  ‘Listen,’ I say, going over to her. ‘Don’t you worry about our Lee. I’ll work on him. I expect he’s just a bit uptight about becoming a father, thinking about providing for the baby. As soon as it’s born I’ll keep an eye out for summat local. A nice house with a garden. I’m sure he’ll come round once the baby’s here.’

  She looks at me and says nothing before heading back down the stairs.

  Angela Griffiths  Jess Mount

  15 April 2018

  Here he is. Little Harrison, one year old today. He’s doing a special smile for his mummy, but he wants you to know that grandma’s taking very good care of him. He loves playing in my garden (we always said he’d like to live in a house with a garden, didn’t we?) and now he’s taken his first steps, he’ll soon be kicking a football around, just like his daddy did. Daddy will be back home soon, but in the meantime Harrison is here with me and we are both loving spending time together. He is the most special grandson I could ever have been given. Thank you.

  Jess

  Saturday, 15 October 2016

  I only went on Facebook because it was his birthday. I have managed to stay away for three months, but I was so desperate to see a photo of him that I broke my vow not to go on again. It wasn’t as if I didn’t know what to expect, but still the sight of H is enough to reduce me to a blubbering mound of tears. He has changed so much. He is a proper little boy now, with so many teeth I can’t even count them. He has a lot more hair too. Dark and quite thick. And although he is still unmistakably Lee’s son, I think I can see a tiny little bit of me, or even Mum, around the mouth.

  ‘Hello, you,’ I whisper, holding the phone to my chest as if I am holding him, letting him know that I am here. The fear that I will never see this version of H in real life, that I will be gone by the time he’s three months old, grips me. I don’t want to believe it is true, but everything else has come true so far, even when I have fought against it, so why should this part be any different? And I don’t understand why H is still living with Angela. Surely Dad should have him now that Lee has been arrested? I suppose he’s still considered to be not guilty at the moment . . . once he’s been convicted and Lee has gone to jail, Dad must get him back then. Surely my letter would count for something? I know it’s not a will but they are my final wishes. And I made it very clear to Sadie in that letter who I wanted to look after H – and why it wasn’t safe to leave him with Lee.

  I will fight to stay here with H, because the last thing in the world I want is to leave him. I will not have him being brought up by anyone else – and certainly not Angela.

  I go into the bathroom and wash my face. Lee is out. He’s gone to the Leeds match with Scott from work. I’ve arranged to go and see Dad and Sadie this afternoon. I haven’t told them about being pregnant yet, but it’s time now. I’m three months gone and it’ll soon be hard to cover up that I’m starting to show. It feels like an incredibly big, grown-up thing to do, to tell your father you’re pregnant. And I don’t feel big or grown up at the moment. I feel small and tired and still a bit sick. But I know it’s got to be done.

  Dad is cooking me lunch when I get there. It feels weird, walking into my own home when it’s not my home anymore. Everything looks the same but it already feels smaller and more distant.

  ‘Hi,’ he says, hugging me and kissing me on both cheeks. ‘Lovely to see you.’ I know he means it too. I can tell by the way his eyes have lit up. I try not to think about how lonely he must be without me here.

  ‘Hi. How’ve you been?’

  ‘Yeah, fine. Keeping busy,
you know.’

  I nod, even though I suspect he hasn’t been fine at all. The smell of whatever he’s cooking is already making me feel slightly nauseous. I couldn’t think of a way to tell him I wouldn’t be able to eat some foods without him guessing, and I so wanted to tell him in person.

  ‘I’ve got some news,’ I say, deciding not to keep it any longer. ‘You’re going to be a grandad.’

  He stares at me for a second, as if waiting for me to start laughing and tell him I’m having him on. When I don’t, he appears to shake a little before he starts tearing up.

  ‘Hey,’ I say, going over and giving him a hug. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’

  It is a moment or two before he can speak. When he finally does, he simply says, ‘I am. I’m more than pleased. Overwhelmed, to be honest. How far gone are you?’

  ‘Three months. It’s due on April the ninth.’

  He looks at me.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I know. It’s kind of like she sent him so we’d have something happy going on to dull the pain.’

  Dad wipes his eyes. ‘She’d have loved it, Jess. She’d have been overjoyed.’

  ‘She’d probably have started knitting, wouldn’t she?’

  ‘God, yeah. She’d be knitting from now until the baby comes. You’d be under six foot of booties and hats by the time it arrived.’

  ‘And she’d have told me loads of stuff about what to do and not to do, what to eat and not to eat. She’d have issued a new advice notice every day.’

  Dad smiles before his face drops slightly. ‘I’ve cooked fish, is that OK?’

  ‘It’s fine, thanks. Although I haven’t got a very big appetite at the moment. I’ve had pretty bad morning sickness, to be honest.’

  ‘Oh love, I’m sorry. I remember what your mum was like. I wish I’d known.’

  ‘I didn’t want to tell people before three months. You know what it’s like.’

  ‘Sure. Are you telling Angela tomorrow?’

  I wonder for a second whether to lie but decide against it. ‘She guessed, actually. Because I couldn’t eat Sunday lunch. It kind of gave the game away.’