by Louise Guy
Damien didn’t speak, he just let the tears that had been accumulating for so many years run down his face.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
A CELEBRATION OF LIFE
Hannah polished her favourite knee-length boots, doing her best to contain the tears that once again rolled down her cheeks. It wasn’t possible that they were farewelling their beloved Phyllie, was it? Her grandmother’s will had been very specific.
No funeral, no flowers, just a gathering of the family and a few close friends to say nice things about me. You are to serve Prosecco, strawberries, brie and crackers and those chocolate brownies Hannah makes that are to die for. Nothing else. No beer, no catering for dietary requirements. You may include a soft drink for Amy only. Everyone else will drink Prosecco.
Hannah had covered her mouth to stop an unexpected bubble of laughter from escaping when the lawyer read this out. He’d had them all gather at her father’s the day after Phyllie’s death, which was part of her instructions. She didn’t want them wasting time planning a funeral and putting notices in the papers – she strictly forbade them to do any of that. As a result the arrangements were straightforward. Exactly one month after her death they were to take her ashes to Blackburn Lake Sanctuary for an elaborate picnic celebration. Each person was to say something about her, preferably favourable, and they were to drink as much Prosecco in her honour as they could manage. She’d made a list of who she was allowing to attend the celebration. Other than the family, she’d included her friend Verna, and Leon – ‘the goat boy’, as she’d named him in the instructions. That was it. No one else was permitted to come.
Phyllie had left instructions that her ashes were to be added to the urn that had sat on her mantlepiece for the past forty-nine years.
Add me to Frederick’s ashes and give us a good shake, so we’re mixed together for eternity. Then, at my festival of life, scatter our ashes through the garden beds after you’ve had your picnic and made your toasts in my honour. And remember how much pleasure you’ve all given me and how much I love you.
With her boots now gleaming, Hannah hurried upstairs to get dressed. Damien was in the bedroom, looking incredibly handsome in a black suit with an aquamarine tie. He pulled her to him as she entered the room and gently wiped her tears before kissing her on the forehead.
They didn’t need to exchange any words; the love in his gesture warmed Hannah’s heart.
‘Is Amy ready?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘I’ll just go and make sure she’s left Bear clean water and some food.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We should leave in ten minutes to stop at the florist on our way.’
Hannah smiled. Damien wasn’t budging on the flower situation. Phyllie’s instructions had said no flowers, but Damien was insisting. He’d ordered a bouquet of Phyllie’s favourite pink roses and was planning to have them as the centrepiece, next to the urn with her and Frederick’s ashes.
The sky was blue, a gentle breeze blowing as they reached Blackburn Lake a little before twelve. A noon celebration had been instructed, and that was what they were doing. Nat and Leon were already there, setting up two tables side by side for the food. Hannah watched them from a distance, chatting and laughing together. She smiled. Even in death Phyllie was doing her best to bring them together.
She helped Damien retrieve the cooler boxes with the Prosecco, finger food and glasses from the boot.
Her father and Sue drove up in Sue’s Toyota. They were planning to sell both their cars and buy a four-wheel drive and do a ‘lap of Oz’, as her dad was calling their proposed journey around Australia.
Verna arrived, wearing a pretty lace dress with a pink flower fascinator. She blushed when Hannah remarked on the fascinator. It seemed an unusual item to wear, other than to a wedding or the races. Verna explained that she’d been given instructions to wear it.
‘Instructions? What do you mean?’
‘I received a letter from Phyllie’s lawyer two days after she died. It had specific instructions on what I was to do following her death and exactly what I was to wear to her life celebration. She always loved this fascinator. Her note specifically referred to an incident when I wore it at the Melbourne Cup back in the fifties. I drank too much champagne and slipped over in a gigantic pile of horse poo.’
Hannah stifled a laugh.
‘Oh, laugh all you want. It turned out to be the most romantic thing that ever happened to me. A gentleman in a pinstriped suit and top hat held out his hand and pulled me up. Six months later he put a ring on that same hand. As Phyllie used to say to me, “Never underestimate what shit might bring.” She was right. Over sixty years of marriage, that’s what it brought. If Byron hadn’t died last year, we’d be celebrating our sixty-fifth in a couple of weeks.’
Nat joined them, coming over to hug Verna. ‘I bet you’re missing Phyllie.’
Verna squeezed Nat’s arm as she pulled out of the embrace. ‘More than you’ll ever know. Although I expect you’re finding living in the house on your own very difficult.’
‘No, actually, I love being there. I can feel Phyllie in every room. I can imagine what she’d be saying to me over certain things and how she’d be yelling about others. She would have been yelling today, that’s for sure. Leon’s goat got out again, and I found it in the backyard. But the funny thing was it didn’t eat any of Phyllie’s plants. It stood next to one of her favourites – her prized black prince dahlias, which are in flower – and did nothing. It was almost like it knew she was gone and was mourning her. Leon says I’m crazy, but I think it was.’
Her father clapped his hands together to get everybody’s attention. ‘Come and grab a glass of Prosecco and some food and we’ll begin. As per Phyllie’s instructions we are all to say something about her. If you’ve written it down, you can read it out. The person talking needs to stand at the edge of the lake, so that it’s the backdrop for us to all to look at. She’s left a list of the order she’d like us to talk in.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Not that I’m first on the list, but I will say this about her, she knew her own mind in life, and it appears even more so in death.’
They laughed at his comment, a feeling of joy and celebration in the air, rather than sadness.
Amy spoke first, her arm sporting a purple cast because it was one of Phyllie’s favourite colours. She brought tears to their eyes as she spoke of her great-grandmother and all the wonderful things she had learned from her. She finished with a list of Phyllie’s best advice, the final being, ‘You can only be truly mad at someone you really love.’
‘That’s so true.’ Nat grinned as she looked over to Hannah. ‘Our history confirms we really love each other. Phyllie was a very wise woman.’
‘Phyllie didn’t make that up,’ Amy said. ‘She was quoting Christian Grey’s mum. I think it was her way of telling me I’m ready to watch the Fifty Shades movie.’
Hannah covered her mouth to stop from laughing. She hated to imagine what other conversations Phyllie had had with Amy if this was the type of quote she’d been using. There was no way Amy would be watching Fifty Shades, regardless of anything she wanted to read into Phyllie’s wisdom and advice.
Her father spoke next of what a strong, independent and dedicated woman his mother was. Of how she’d not only stepped in and cared for Hannah and Nat when Carmel died, but she’d been the one thing that saved him from slipping deep into depression. ‘She wouldn’t let me, that was the reality. Said I had a duty to Carmel and the girls to get out of bed each day.’ He smiled. ‘She said I was allowed to wallow in my grief and self-pity only on a Sunday. She came over every Sunday and cleaned the house and made meals for the week, insisting I went out on my own for the day. If Hannah and Nat were home, the three of you often went out for lunch or to the movies together.’
Hannah did remember that. She’d had no idea it was to give her father a break from them and time to grieve.
Verna regaled them with many hilarious stories of mad things Phyllie got up to on holidays,
and at the various clubs and associations they belonged to. None of it surprised Hannah, if anything she was just so pleased to hear that Phyllie had had such joy and happiness in her life.
There didn’t seem to be any rationale for the order of their speaking, and Leon spoke briefly after Verna, saying how touched he’d been to be included in today’s celebration and what an inspiring woman Phyllie was. Sue spoke next, praising Phyllie for her acceptance of her into their family and the friendship she’d offered her. Then it was Damien’s turn, and they were all surprised when he revealed something no one knew. He talked about the many phone calls he’d received from Phyllie over the years asking for advice on all sorts of matters. ‘She seemed to think that being a paramedic meant I was qualified for many things that I knew nothing about. I’d get questions about anything from the weather forecast to how to bottle stone fruit to which horse was going to win the fourth race at Caulfield on the weekend.’ He blushed. ‘One day, when I asked her why she rang me with such random questions, she said that on the phone my voice sounded like Frederick’s. She was asking me the questions she’d have asked him, just to hear her husband’s voice.’
Tears ran down Hannah’s cheeks as she listened to Damien. She looked across to Nat, who was also wiping her eyes. There wasn’t a dry eye in the group.
‘When Phyllie told me this was why she rang me, I made sure I always had answers for her. I made some up, or when I was near a computer, I’d quickly google her question to try and sound more informative. Or I’d ask her something that I hoped Frederick might have asked her about her garden or what her plans were for the weekend. We had some very unusual conversations.’ He wiped his eyes. ‘Conversations that I will always treasure and will miss.’
Hannah hadn’t been aware of how much Phyllie still missed her husband. She’d not given much thought to her being a wife and a mother. She was always just Phyllie.
‘That leaves Hannah and me,’ Nat said. ‘Which of us speaks first?’
‘Neither,’ her father said.
Hannah’s head shot up. ‘What, why?’ She’d spent hours poring over the words she hoped would sum up how she felt about her grandmother.
Nat looked as distraught as she felt.
‘She’s left a letter that she would like you to read out before we scatter her ashes.’ He took an envelope from his pocket and held it out to Hannah. It was addressed to her.
Hannah’s fingers trembled as she slid open the seal. She shook out the pages of neatly typed pages and began to read.
My dearest girl,
I’m sorry that you are having to read this letter, especially as you probably spent hours working on the brilliant words you planned to share about what a wonderful grandmother I was. I wish I knew how to use those smiley face things, emojis or something like that Nat calls them, as a laughing one would be very appropriate right now. I shouldn’t make fun, should I? I know that you love to have things in order and planned to the finest detail, and I’ve taken part of that away from you today so that I can talk to you instead. And Nat, don’t think you’re getting away with anything, the second page is for you to read.
Hannah glanced up at Nat, her heart aching as she saw the tears rolling down her face.
I decided a few months ago to write a new letter every month and send it to my lawyer, so that whatever you are reading today is recent and not written years before my death. Funnily enough, while circumstances have changed each month, my underlying message to you hasn’t. You are a wonderful mother, wife, daughter and granddaughter. Don’t ever change, Hannah.
Hannah had to stop reading for a moment. She closed her eyes and willed her voice to cooperate.
I know we tease you about being so caught up with assessing each situation for risks and choosing safer paths than some of us might like to travel, but that’s who you are. Your mother’s death shaped who you are today. You had no control over what happened to her, but you’ve spent your life since trying to control the things you can. That’s not a bad thing, but make sure you listen to those around you if you are trying to control how they live their lives. I should also add that I see your mother’s kindness, her loyalty and passion in you every day. I treasure those qualities and know those who love you do too.
No matter what happened for me to die and you to be reading this, never think that I was seriously upset about you suggesting assisted living and other ways to help me. I know that everything you suggested you did out of love for me. Without your badgering I might not have thought to invite Nat to move in with me, and for that I am eternally grateful. Not only did it keep me in my own home, but it made my days interesting. Your sister is the other half of your mother. Impulsive, crazy and a joy to be around. She’s also a wonderful friend if you let her be and I am instructing you to make sure you do. Strange things bring people together, and your friendship formed in the chat room is what you need to keep close to your heart and treasure. You were real with each other.
Keep being you, Hannah, you truly are an amazing woman.
Now, hand the next page to Nat, please.
Hannah could hardly see through the blur of tears as she handed Nat the page. She accepted a hanky from Damien and wiped her eyes as Nat began to speak, a tremor evident in her voice.
Nat, my gorgeous, fun-loving and at times crazy granddaughter. Thank you. While I may have led you to believe otherwise, you’ve made my last months the most enjoyable since you girls grew into young women and no longer needed me as often. I have adored sharing my house with you and hope that you and Hannah will come to an arrangement where you will continue to live there. As I’ve also said to Hannah, don’t change, Nat, you are indeed one of a kind. Your generosity for helping people is something rare. I admire your work ethic and the way you view fairness for all in the world. One thing I would like to say to you is to embrace Suze. She was a true friend to you and can continue to be if you’ll let her. As annoying as you sometimes find her . . .
Nat looked up at Hannah and smiled through her tears.
. . . she only ever has your best interest at heart. She’s always looked out for you, before and after your mother died. And like you do with others, she’s always put you first.
Heat flooded Nat’s face as she continued reading.
And don’t ignore the kindness of strangers, in particular those who keep goats as pets. I think if you give him half a chance, you’ll find that you and Leon have much more in common than you would ever expect. As part of the conditions of my will, I am adding a clause which I expect Leon and your family to uphold.
Nat cleared her throat, her eyes fixed firmly on the letter.
Hannah felt a twinge of sympathy for her. Phyllie would have known how embarrassing this would be. But she was used to getting her way. Even now, after she was gone, she was going to make sure a few things happened.
Nat continued.
Tomorrow night, you and Leon will cancel any plans you may have. There is a bottle of Penfolds Cab Sav in the bottom of the pantry. I bought two of these bottles on the fourteenth of March 2015, as I knew that day something special was going to happen to you. Ask Leon what was special about this day.
All eyes turned to Leon, who looked confused. ‘It was the day I moved into Phyllie’s street,’ he said. ‘The minute the moving truck left she came over with a lasagne straight from the oven and a bottle of Penfolds. She introduced herself, told me about her wonderful granddaughter and said if I was still single in a few years, she hoped to introduce us.’
‘Why a few years?’ Hannah asked. ‘That’s weird.’
Leon was now blushing, seemingly unable to look at Nat. ‘She said Nat wasn’t ready yet. That she was still in her “wild phase”, as Phyllie called it.’
‘And you waited all this time to meet her?’ Sue’s mouth dropped open at the thought.
Leon laughed. ‘I’m sorry to say, but no. That first day I just assumed Phyllie had a few screws loose. I played along as her lasagne was to die for and there was something a
bout her that I liked. Over the next couple of years, I got to know her better, but she never mentioned Nat again, so I thought perhaps she’d changed her mind or Nat didn’t exist. And then, of course, Nat moved in.’
‘Keep reading the letter,’ her father instructed. ‘I have a note from Phyllie here saying any interruptions to the reading must be kept to ten seconds maximum.’
Damien laughed out loud at this. ‘She’s a classic.’
So yes, that was the day I met Leon and told him about you. It has only been recently that I believe you are finally ready for him, although I have a sneaking suspicion you and Leon might have come to this conclusion yourselves already. You are to take the Penfolds and two glasses to the bottom of my back garden at exactly eight p.m. Lie back on the picnic rug and count the satellites and shooting stars. You will be amazed. I’ll be watching you two, so make sure you do this. And while you’re with Leon, make sure that bloody goat of his stays away from my garden.
Love you, Nat, stay true to who you are and remember that you made an old lady’s last few months some of the happiest in her life.
Nat folded the letter and handed it to her father, tears streaming down her face. Hannah caught the ‘Sorry,’ she mouthed to Leon.
He shook his head and reached over, took her hand and squeezed it. ‘We have strict instructions for tomorrow night, and there’s no way I would go against Phyllie’s wishes. She’d probably send lightning bolts at us from heaven if we did. And more importantly, I can’t wait.’
Hannah smiled watching the exchange between Leon and Nat. The attraction between them was obvious.
‘The last thing we’ve been instructed to do is to scatter Phyllie and Frederick’s ashes.’ Her father held up the urn.
Hannah wondered how he was doing. She hoped that his worries had eased, now that they’d had confirmation the money would be returned within the next month. They’d put the house on the market, and it was looking like they would sell for a very healthy price. Sorting out their financial future seemed to have taken ten years off her father. Even dealing with the grief of Phyllie’s passing, he looked less weighed down.