by D Latham
Back downstairs, Ivan was holding court with the two spaniels, and a plate of sausages. They were gazing adoringly, and wagging their tails so hard, their entire bums were swishing from side to side. "Here, you give them a bit," he said, pushing the plate over to me. I cut off two pieces of sausage, and held them out. As quick as a flash, they were gone, practically inhaled by the eager dogs. They sat looking at me expectantly.
"Am I your new best friend?" I cooed, as I held out more sausage, which they scoffed down straight away, before wagging their tails at me.
"Their affection is so easily bought," said Ivan, grinning at them, and grabbing a sandwich.
Chapter 5
It was wonderfully cool in the woods, the trees providing a dappled shade, as we wandered through, holding hands. I had discovered that Ivan was extremely tactile, wanting to be in bodily contact with me all the time, either stroking my arm, touching my face, or keeping my hand in his. The girls raced around at our feet, as we walked in companionable silence. I begun to relax, feeling the tension leaving my hands and shoulders. "No regrets?" Ivan asked. I gave him a quizzical look. "About us," he said.
"None at all. Why, have you?"
"No, of course not. I wanted you from the moment I saw you. I'm just relieved we finally got together. I was worried that Oscar would claim you as his."
I laughed, "I was told you only dated supermodels, so I didn't think you'd be interested in a little swot like me. Plus I thought I'd upset you by challenging you in that first meeting."
"You didn't upset me, I was impressed, and intrigued. I knew from that moment that I had to get to know you."
An hour later, we got back to the house. The sun had begun to blaze, so we decided to swim before lunch. I went upstairs to change into the bikini Jo had thoughtfully provided. As I walked into the bedroom, I heard my phone buzzing in my clutch. I pulled it out, but it had rung off. Frowning, I noticed I had 22 missed calls from my mum. I called her back straightaway.
Ray answered, "Elle, I've been trying to get hold of you all morning. It's your mum," he paused, "I found her dead this morning." His voice cracked, "I'm so very sorry."
I went cold, my spine prickling, "What? How? What happened?" I was struggling to get the words out. I sat down on the edge of the bed.
"We don't know yet, but the early indications are that she had a brain aneurysm. I think she got up in the night, I found her in the hall." He let out a sob. "I called an ambulance right away, but the paramedics said she had been dead several hours....Elle, I don't know what to do."
"Where are you?"
"At the flat. They took her away in the ambulance. They're going to want to do a post mortem, and the police need to come and interview me, as it was a sudden death."
"When did all this happen?"
"I found her about an hour ago. We had a late night last night, didn't get home till nearly two, so I had a lay in."
"Ray, I'm on my way. I'm coming from Sussex, but I'll be as quick as I can. Stay there."
"Will do, and Elle,"
"Yeah?"
"I loved her too."
"I know." I rang off, and sat for a moment, reeling from the shock. Ivan wandered in to see what was keeping me. One look at my face wiped the smile off of his. "My mum’s been found dead. I need Roger to drive me to Welling, if that's ok."
He wrapped his arms around me, and said; "Baby I'm so sorry, whatever you need. I'll call Roger. I'll come with you."
The dam burst, and I sobbed into his chest. He held me with one strong arm, while he pulled his phone out of his pocket with the other, and called for Roger to bring the car round, and someone to take care of the dogs. He sat me down on the bed while he threw on a T-shirt, and some shoes, and gathered up my house keys and mobile, before leading me out to the car.
He let me cry into his chest, and simply sat stroking my hair, and passing me tissues. He felt solid and steadfast, a strong man who didn't shirk away from emotional difficulties as well as practical ones. We sped along the M25 towards the place I had tried to airbrush from my life, but needed now that it was gone. Roger negotiated the traffic like the professional he was, and before I knew it, we were pulling into Lovell Avenue.
I cringed slightly as the Bentley pulled up outside the tiny maisonettes, and parked alongside the elderly Fiats and Fords. I had hoped Ivan would never see where I came from, but at that moment, I just wanted to be inside my childhood home. The police were already there, in the living room, sitting with Ray, asking about timings and circumstances. The neighbour from downstairs had been making everyone cups of tea, and no doubt earwigging. A death in the estate was big news that would keep the gossips occupied for weeks.
"That was quick," said Ray, pulling me into a hug, "officers, this is Elle Reynolds, Debbie's daughter." The officers stood, and offered their condolences. I sat down on the scruffy velour sofa, and listened to the rest of the interview. Ivan disappeared into the kitchen.
It seemed that mum and Ray had been to a 'do' the night before. Both had been drinking and dancing, although Ray said neither were terribly drunk. They had got home around half one, had toast and a cup of tea, and gone to bed. He had woken up at ten, got up, and discovered her on the floor in the hall. At first, he'd assumed she'd fainted, so had wrapped a blanket round her while he waited for the ambulance. They arrived within fifteen minutes, and told him she'd been dead for several hours. The police made notes as he spoke, raising no concerns of foul play. To be fair, Ray looked shell shocked, and kept breaking down into sobs. The police took my details too, before again, murmuring their condolences, and promising to be in touch once the cause of death had been ascertained.
Ivan came out of the kitchen bearing mugs of tea. It shamed me to see that every mug was chipped, but he didn't seem to care. "I heard what happened," he said, "I was listening. Do you know when they'll find out what the post mortem says?"
"A few days I think," replied Ray, sipping his tea gratefully. I sat quietly and looked around the tiny living room, with it's cheap ornaments and scruffy wallpaper, committing it all to memory. Despite feeling shamed by it, it was still home, with its familiar, and comforting smell. I noticed mum had framed a snapshot of me at my graduation from Cambridge, I was wearing my mortarboard and gown, smiling proudly. I remembered that moment well, it had felt like my first steps to freedom. I glanced at Ivan, who's eyes had alighted on the photo as well.
"She was very proud of you," he stated.
"Used to boast about Elle to everyone. Said she was the brains of the family," said Ray.
Family. I have no family now. Nobody at all. The thought hit me like a sledgehammer. I think Ivan sensed that I was melting down slightly. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and squeezed me tight. I was grateful to him for being there. I also felt slightly sorry for him that his day of wild sex had ended up being a day sitting in a grotty flat in suburbia with a snotty, and tearful girlfriend. "I'm sorry, this wasn't how today was meant to pan out," I said to Ivan. He just hugged me tighter.
"What kind of man would I be if I was only with you on the good days?" Ivan replied. I sniffed.
"Elle, there's something I need to ask you, I know it's not a good time, but what are you going to do with the flat?" Ray asked, "only I gave up my digs to move in with your mum. I don't have anywhere else to go if you want to move back and take over the tenancy."
"I don't want to move back here Ray. You have it. I'll just want a few personal things, photos, that's all. You keep the furniture and stuff." He looked relieved. I went to the drawer in the dresser where mum kept all the photos, and pulled them out, there weren't many, but developing film had been expensive in the days before digital cameras. Ray went to the kitchen to pull a Lidl bag out of a cupboard for me to carry the albums. I went to her bedroom, and stared at the familiar old dressing table that she'd found in a junk shop in Plumstead. I knew she'd sold every scrap of jewellery she'd possessed to buy my books for university, so I silently said goodbye to her empty bed, and clo
sed the door.
I promised Ray that I would register the death, and organise the funeral as soon as the police or coroner gave me the go ahead. I took one last look around the flat, silently saying goodbye to the ghost of my mother, and the girl I used to be, and I walked outside with Ivan, gripping his hand tightly.
"Can you take me back to London please?" I said. I needed to be alone. All I wanted to do was curl up and cry, without worrying about how I looked, or how he was feeling.
"Are you sure? I don't mind where we go, but it might be better to have the tranquillity of the estate if you need to grieve."
I smiled gratefully, "you're wonderful, did you know that? But I need to be alone right now." He nodded, and spoke to Roger. We pulled away, and headed towards London.
He hovered around when we got back to the flat, sending a member of security out for groceries. He had placed the bag of photos on the kitchen island, an innocuous bag that I was afraid to open.
"Tell me about your mother, what sort of person was she?" Ivan asked.
I thought for a moment, "she was fun, had a great sense of humour. Liked music, drinking and the soaps. Made a lot of poor choices in life, narrow outlook. That's it really."
"She made you, so she must have been quite something," he said softly.
"I was ashamed of it, of taking you there. Seeing the cheap, scruffy place I come from. Seeing you drink from a chipped mug. I wanted to hide it from you. I escaped that life." My tears started to fall again. Ivan, to his credit, wrapped his strong arms around me, and kissed my wet face.
"It's a palace compared to what I grew up in. Your mother did her best for you. Never forget that. She loved you. Be proud of who you are, and where your journey began."
"It's all gone now. Nothing to run away from," I sniffed in a very unladylike way, "I have no family at all now. Nobody, not even a cousin." Ivan pulled a square of kitchen roll off, and handed it to me so I could blow my nose. I noticed I'd left a wet patch on his T-shirt, and hoped it wasn't snot.
"I know how that feels, and believe me when I say you'll survive it. She gave you brains and self reliance. That's a great legacy. Plus you have a knack of pulling rich men," he smiled as I laughed, albeit a rather half hearted one. He was right, I could take care of myself just fine.
I missed Ivan almost the moment he left. He hadn't wanted to go, but I'd insisted I needed time alone. I poured myself a large glass of wine, and called James.
"Hey, little Elle, how's things?"
"Bad, really bad." I sniffed. "My mum died this morning." Just saying the words squeezed teardrops out of my eyes.
"Oh Elle, you poor girl. What happened?" James sounded so sympathetic, it squeezed more tears out.
"Brain haemorrhage. Her partner found her dead on the floor this morning."
"That must have been a hell of a shock for both of you. Had she been ill?"
"No, it came out of the blue. Ray's in shock."
"You sound as though you are too Elle. Is there anyone who can come round and sit with you?"
"No. Ivan was with me earlier, but I sent him home. I wanted to be alone. I've done nothing but cry all day."
"That's normal. Losing a parent is harder than people realise. It hits everyone in different ways. Being tearful is to be expected. Don't be so hard on yourself Elle, if you need to cry, then just let it out. Anyone who's lost a parent will understand. All of us cry when our mums die, even us big, hairy blokes." I stayed silent, just listening to James' soothing voice, and I wished he wasn't in America.
After our call, I wandered to the island, and pulled the albums out of the bag. They were cheap, plastic affairs, no doubt from Wilkinsons. I opened the first one to see a picture of myself age about three, sitting on a swing, hanging on for grim death. I flicked through the albums, smiling at some of the memories, cringing at some others.
I was interrupted by a knock on the door. Assuming it was Ivan, I opened it straightaway, only to find Oscar standing there, looking a bit sheepish. I stood aside to let him in, and he frowned when he saw my puffy, tear stained face. "What can I do for you?" I asked.
"I came to apologise for last night," he paused, "Elle, have you been crying?"
"Yeah, I had some bad news today, nothing for you to worry about though." I didn't want to say the words or tell the story again, and certainly not to Oscar. "Don't concern yourself with last night, I'm over it. Can you muzzle your girlfriend if I have to run into her again though please."
"She's not my girlfriend. I don't know why she said that."
"I do, and it really doesn't matter Oscar."
"You looked beautiful. I could barely take my eyes off you. I wanted to tell you."
I sighed, "it was just a pretty dress and a pair of shoes Oscar, it was still just me underneath. Your date was stunning. She might have been a bitch, but at least she was a pretty one."
He scowled. "I didn't appreciate her comments about you. I won't be seeing her again..... Did Ivan make you cry?"
"No, of course not. Don't be silly."
"Well what then? Dammit Elle, you look like you've been crying all day, will you just tell me what's wrong?"
"There's no need to shout at me. It's nothing that concerns you, Ivan or anyone else for that matter, so I'd appreciate it if you stopped jumping to conclusions." A thick silence spread between us. Oscar wasn't budging. "My mum was found dead this morning. They think it was a brain haemorrhage."
He stared at me for a moment, before pulling me into his arms, and enveloping me in a hug. "Elle, I'm so sorry for you."
"Oscar, please, I'll end up crying again, and my eyes are sore."
"Why are you here on your own?"
"I wanted to be alone. I need to sit quietly and think. Today has been overwhelming in lots of ways," I breathed in Oscar's lovely Oscary smell before pulling away, "I had to go home, only I didn't want it to be home, and there was nothing for me to bring back here apart from a couple of photos, and that made me so sad for her......I'm not making sense am I?"
"Nothing to remember her by? At all?"
"Nope. She sold all her jewellery to help me buy books for uni. She had nothing Oscar. I feel so bloody guilty about that. Dascha was right on Saturday night, Ivan bought my outfit, and the rubies I was wearing. I was nothing but a fraud, parading round like I belonged. The truth is that I'm living a life that isn't mine, and it hurts to know that she died never having had anything nice in her life." The blasted tears began leaking out again, and I grabbed another bit of kitchen roll to blow my nose. Yeah, alright Oscar, I'm no lady.
"Your mum had you. Far more precious than a bit of stone. I know which I'd choose if I had to make a choice. Elle, it doesn't matter if someone else chose that dress, you looked beautiful in it, and that's all that matters. Don't ever forget that twenty thousand pounds to Ivan is like twenty pence to someone like your mother, so to him it was just a nice little treat for you, and certainly nothing to feel guilty about. As for Dascha, I gather she spent his money like water when she had the chance. He told me once that she spent half a million on one shopping trip alone, so I don't think she's got any right to sneer at you."
I sniffed in a very unladylike way. "I know it shouldn't have rattled me, but it did. Now, I appreciate your apology for her behaviour, I really do, but right now I need to be alone. I hope you understand."
"Of course. I'll leave you to it. I'm just downstairs if you need anything. I mean it, anything you need, just call or knock." He gave me a small smile, and a slightly awkward hug, before leaving.
I made myself a coffee, and sat at the island. It was only six o'clock, so I pulled out my laptop, and tried to lose myself in the work I had to catch up on. By eight, I was finished, and pacing around the flat, not wanting to watch telly, listen to music, or any other activity. My phone sat on the island, and I scrolled through the texts from my mum, the final one being sent the first Sunday I spent with Ivan.
I almost dropped the damn thing when it made me jump by starting to rin
g. I answered straightaway, "hi Ivan."
"How are you?"
"Ok. Bored, trying not to think too much. You?"
"Bored, the girls are asleep. There's nothing on telly."
"Can I come over?"
"I'll send a car." He cut the call. I really need to talk to him about that.
Approximately ten minutes later, I was in the Bentley, heading to Saffron Wharf, and the strongest man I'd ever met. I was escorted up to the apartment by Roger, and almost fell into Ivan's waiting arms. He kissed me softly and sweetly, and sat me on the sofa in the lounge while he poured us each a glass of wine.
We snuggled on the sofa all the evening, Ivan kept an arm around me, holding me firm. We didn't discuss the events of the day, keeping our conversations lighter, mainly about the girls, and their dreadful behaviour at times. By ten, I was fast asleep.
Ivan must have carried me to bed. I woke up at half five, wearing just my bra and knickers, with Ivan and the girls fast asleep in a big sleep heap beside me. I tried to slip out of bed without waking him, but as soon as my foot touched the floor, he opened his eyes. "God, you get up early. Are you staying for breakfast, or do you need to go straight home?"
"I need to go home and start getting ready."
"Just dial 1 on the phone over there, and they'll send a car for you."
"Ok. Thanks." I padded around to the other side of the bed, and leaned down to give Ivan a soft kiss. I called down to the security team before pulling on my shorts and vest from the previous day, and slipping on the flip flops. Ivan had gone back to sleep, so I slipped away, and went downstairs to wait for my car.
The first thing I did when I got into work was to go and see Lewis to tell him what had happened, and to let him know that I'd need to take time off at some point for the funeral and the administrative details. He was full of sympathy, and asked if I needed compassionate leave, which I declined. The idea of sitting alone in my flat doing nothing filled me with horror. I was better off losing myself in work, and was actually looking forward to concentrating on a detailed contract, as it would take my mind off the overwhelming guilt I was feeling. Thankfully, the morning passed in a blur of emails, calls and paperwork. Ivan had sent me an email asking if I was ok, and enquiring how my day was going. I'd replied that I was keeping busy, and was coping fine.