Would they have had this conversation without her? Edie didn’t know, she suspected not. Guardian angels could come in very unexpected, and indeed inebriated forms.
67
The day after Margot’s death, a thin, tall, dark-haired man, with familiar large eyes and bone structure, arrived outside her house with a removal van. He had an equally spectrally thin wife, her mousy hair pulled back from her face. Leaving the door hanging open, they filleted the house, Margot’s chintzy bric-a-brac heaping up in the front garden.
‘Human bastards,’ Edie breathed, watching them from the living room window. Her dad stood next to her, sipping a cup of tea.
‘Everyone has their story, and you don’t know theirs,’ he said.
‘I bet if I did, I’d hate their dialogue and their character motivations and their … stupid faces,’ Edie said.
‘You sound like Megan,’ her dad said. ‘Is this a truce or a merging?’
He pretended to shudder and Edie leaned her head on his shoulder. He kissed her head and put an arm round her. The house had been spookily harmonious for the last twenty hours or so. Meg had wanted Edie to have her favourite bacon sandwiches to help with the trauma, and Edie had insisted Alpen was fine.
Edie watched as the parakeets in their cage, chirruping and hopping, were dumped unceremoniously alongside a bedside table.
‘They’re messing with Meryl and Beryl now, Dad! That’s it, that’s enough.’
Before he could stop her, Edie darted out to confront him.
‘Eric?’
The man turned, looking taken aback to hear his name.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m Edie, from next door. I was Margot’s friend.’
It felt nice, to say it.
‘Take your word for it.’
‘Well, that’s how I know your name.’
Eric didn’t respond.
‘What’s happening to the birds?’
Eric gave Meryl and Beryl a look that suggested he hadn’t given it a whole lot of thought.
‘RSPB? If we can get them to pick them up.’
‘They’ll probably want you to drop them off. There’s a sanctuary at Radcliffe on Trent.’
Edie was being the archetypal irritating nosy neighbour and she didn’t care in the slightest.
‘I’m not a taxi service for budgies. If we open the door, they’ll rehome themselves, no doubt. If they’ve got an appetite.’
‘I’ll take them,’ Edie said, sharply.
‘Be my guest, Bridie.’
Edie picked up the cage. ‘Can I come to the funeral?’ she asked. Actually did you need permission, how did it work? Did funeral parlours have bouncers?
‘It’s only going to be small,’ he paused. ‘My mother made sure of that.’
His wife appeared in the doorway and said: ‘Look at these slippers! How many Chihuahuas died so she could have warm feet?’ Edie could’ve slapped her. And him.
‘I’d like to be there,’ Edie continued.
Eric sized her up, and shrugged.
‘It’s Thursday, three-thirty p.m., Wilford Hill. Flowers in lieu of charity donations. It’s what Mum would’ve wanted.’
‘Thank you,’ Edie said.
She carried the bird cage back into the house.
‘Holy guacamole, Edith, what’s going on?!’ her dad said, as Edie bumped and scraped the large cage down the hallway.
‘I had to, Dad,’ she hissed. ‘They were going to dump them.’
Meg came down the stairs. ‘Alright, animal activism! Yeah!’
‘I don’t want animals activated in here,’ her dad said.
‘It’s like Free Willy,’ Meg said. ‘Edie has to free them from the yoke of oppression.’
‘They don’t look very free to me.’
‘We’ll build them a bigger enclosure, along the wall of the dining room. Or maybe just make the dining room their room,’ Meg said.
‘Oh yes let’s turn my house into an aviary,’ their dad said. ‘As ever, the perfect solution is staring me in the face.’
‘I said I’d take them to the RSPB,’ Edie explained. ‘This is a temporary rehoming, Dad, I promise. They’re just passing through.’
Edie put the birds in the dining room, checked their seed and water bottles were full, and found her dad and sister in the kitchen.
‘Will you come to the funeral with me? Thursday afternoon.’
‘Oh, Edith …’ her dad said, ‘I don’t know. I didn’t know the lady all that well. And forgive me for saying so, but that’s the way we both liked it.’
‘Thursday’s my day at the home,’ Meg said.
‘Could you swap it?’ Edie said to her. ‘It would mean so much to me to have you both there.’ Edie hesitated. ‘I want to be with my family.’
It was so simple to say, but she could see the effect her words had was profound.
Wilford Crematorium was south of the city, on a hill, with a winding road that often carried slow-moving funeral cortèges. Edie’s dad drove them in the Volvo. They got out, her dad in an old work suit that was slightly too small for him, shiny from being ironed when it shouldn’t have been. Edie was in an evening dress that didn’t work with her tartan coat, while Meg wore a dark Pixies T-shirt with a black cardigan buttoned over it.
‘Is this alright? I don’t have anything plain and black,’ she’d said.
‘Margot would be fine with it, I reckon. She liked people dancing to their own drum. She might’ve liked “Monkey Gone to Heaven”.’
In the bricked entranceway as they entered the crematorium, Edie saw the flowers she’d sent. Lilies, roses and palm leaves, in a white, pink and green spray, the most ostentatious arrangement she could afford. ‘Very princessy,’ had been her instructions to the florist. ‘She loved ritz and glitz.’
‘That’s magnificent,’ her dad said. ‘I’m very proud of you, you know. You’re very caring. And generous.’
Meg leaned down and read the card aloud.
To marvellous Margot.
I hope paradise is an eternal cocktail hour at the Dorchester.
Thank you for your advice. You helped us more than you’ll ever know. I was glad to meet you.
Love from Edie (and Gerry and Meg) xxx
Meg rubbed Edie’s arm.
Inside the rather sterile modern room, there was Eric and his wife in the front row, and two other elderly women in a middle pew, who Edie suspected might be funeral-crasher day-trippers, although she couldn’t tell for sure.
Margot’s coffin was adorned with orange spray roses, a cheapy option, Edie guessed.
Frank Sinatra’s ‘My Funny Valentine’ played. Eric had made one thoughtful choice, at least.
The vicar stepped up and read the passage from the Corinthians, which didn’t strike Edie as very Margot-ish. He gave a short, tactful speech about Margot’s vibrancy and beauty and her work as an actress. And how just because we didn’t always see eye to eye with our family members doesn’t mean we don’t love them and let’s carefully step round the lack of mourners here today and commend Margot to the care of the Lord, Amen.
He pressed a button, clasped his hands and bowed his head, and Margot disappeared through the curtains to a wash of nondescript classical music. Eric and his wife stood, chatted to the vicar briefly and left, without acknowledging the Thompsons.
I don’t feel sorry for Margot, Edie thought as she watched Eric go. She’s elsewhere. I feel sorry for you, because whatever she did, you lose out by caring so little for your fellow humans.
‘Did she honestly have so few friends?’ Meg said, as they walked through the car park.
‘She was cantankerous … But I get the impression a lot of them were from her London days, and it’s not as if Eric will have let them know.’
‘Sad business,’ her dad said. ‘I’d have tried harder if I’d known.’
‘She took real glee in the rucks. Shall we go for a drink, as a wake?’ Edie said, as they climbed into the car. ‘Quick one at the Larwood?�
�
They stepped from the hushed world of death and dying back into the noisy one of the living, and sat sipping a glass of champagne each – ‘Trust me, Margot would be scandalised at us having anything else,’ Edie said, buying a bottle – in a busy gastropub.
‘To Margot,’ Edie said.
‘To Margot,’ they chorused.
‘Where do you think they’ll scatter her ashes?’ Meg said. ‘If they do.’
‘I hope the Dorchester, or the West End, or Cap Ferrat,’ Edie said. ‘No windswept cliffs for Margot.’ Edie weighed her next words carefully, though she judged if now wasn’t the time, she couldn’t see when it would be. ‘Dad, do you still have Mum’s ashes?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Of course.’
‘I wasn’t sure if you’d scattered them already.’
Her dad loosened the collar on his too-tight shirt. ‘I’m sorry I’ve never spoken to you both about this. I’ve had to decide between telling you things and upsetting you, and keeping things from you, and I’ve not always judged it right. At the time, it got very fraught with your Auntie Dawn, she decided she had a claim on them. “Blood’s thicker than water.” I said well, in that case, surely the girls have a greater claim. You were too young to make a decision and then you were both growing up, getting on with your lives. I so wanted you both to be able to … emerge from the shadow of it, you know? And you have.’
He rubbed under his eyes, lifting his glasses, cleared his throat.
‘Hence I waited. We can scatter them when you both decide you want to.’
‘I would like to scatter them,’ Meg said.
‘We just need to pick a spot,’ Edie agreed.
‘Your Auntie Dawn had very fixed ideas about where they should be scattered.’
‘Auntie Dawn can eat a bag of dicks,’ said Meg.
‘Megan!’ their father exclaimed. Edie clinked her glass. Auntie Dawn and their Uncle Derek had often come across as more master villain and witless henchman than loving spouses and caring relatives.
‘Mum’s ashes belong to us,’ Edie said. ‘End of story. Dad, can you think where we’d scatter them?’
‘Actually, I’ve had somewhere in mind for a while. It was a place your mum and I used to go when we were courting.’
‘That’s where we’ll do it, then.’
‘Unless it was the sex shop on Lower Parliament Street,’ Meg said.
68
As they walked to the car, Edie said: ‘I might go for a walk, actually. There’s someone I want to see.’
While they had been toasting Margot, Edie had admitted to herself she missed Elliot, a longing that might even be yearning. It had been ten days since she’d seen him. Yes, she was counting. She missed the way they used to talk. She missed the way he’d instinctively get it, if she told him about Margot. She had an urge to share this with him. She had an urge to do a lot more with Elliot than that.
As Edie got quickly sucked into the vortex of second guessing ‘what ifs’ she had a simple clear impulse: just ask him. At least if he said it was never there, or it wasn’t there any more, she’d know for sure. As Nick and Hannah had said.
And Margot had given her a speech about how ‘no’ wasn’t the worst thing. It felt as if she’d been forecasting this moment. Edie felt like she owed it to Margot to take her advice. To take the risk. She pulled her phone out.
Elliot, if you’re in Bridgford, can I come round & see you? There’s something I really want to say. Edie x
Yes sure. Next half hour?
Edie was thrilled at the instant response but noted: no kiss.
Yes! If that’s OK?
It’s fine.x
Phew. A conciliatory ‘x’, if nothing else.
By the time Edie arrived at his door, it was obvious Elliot was a little apprehensive. He was polite in his greeting, but with a big question mark hovering over his head. They stood in the hallway, Edie hoping she didn’t look too buzzed from the champagne, Elliot looking casually extraordinary in a black jumper.
‘Er. You said you wanted to say something?’
‘Yes.’ Oh, God. The bit where you peered out of the plane and knew you had to jump was worse than the jump itself.
Edie cleared her throat.
‘So …’
The inherent ridiculousness of what she was about to do struck Edie so hard she nearly laughed. The huge revelation of telling Elliot Owen she fancied him. Half the bloody world fancied him. You might as well nervously cough to Elton John he could probably make a go of the singing thing.
‘I don’t know exactly what happened between us, when we fell out that night.’
Elliot glanced at the floor. Edie took a breath.
‘You once said that staying silent and waiting for your mind to be read is a tactic that is destined for doom, and I agree. And you’re going back to America in a few weeks, so it’s not as if I have forever to find out the answer. I thought maybe I should just ask the question.’
Elliot was impossible to read, his expression neutral.
‘… And say, if that was all because you really liked me yourself, I want you to know, I like you too. A lot.’
‘Thanks,’ Elliot said, but with the smallest shrug of disappointment. Big drum roll, small firework.
She could see his point. It was a little too cutesome euphemism. Edie had come this far, she best make the carnal aspect clear.
‘I’ve been to a funeral and had the sort of day where you’re reminded life is very, very brief. I had this overwhelming urge to come and see you, and spend time with you. And if you want me to stay over, I want to stay over.’
‘Stay over’! Oh God! Where did that come from? She was making it sound as if she wanted to do mani-pedis in front of Pitch Perfect 2 with a tub of Cherry Garcia.
‘“Stay over”?’ Elliot repeated, pushing his hands in his pockets, ‘What, as in sleep with me?’
Edie swallowed. ‘Yes.’ She breathed out, heart pounding.
You could do it. You could stand in front of someone and tell them what you wanted and it wasn’t the worst thing. It was scary, but in a good way.
Elliot’s expression was still impossible to read. He hadn’t laughed or vommed, at least.
‘What sort of sex?’ he said, ‘Hearts and flowers carry-me-up-to-bed-sex, or take-me-right-now-on-the-stairs-sex?’
Edie swallowed again and she broke into a light sweat. She hadn’t tried to predict what Elliot might say; it’s fair to say this was more of a challenge than she expected.
‘Uhm …’
Perfect pin-drop quiet in the house. She could hear its bones creak.
She hit on an Edie-ish answer: ‘Whichever’s available?’
Elliot stared at her and eventually shook his head.
‘I’ll have to turn you down.’
Edie nodded. She made another useful discovery. It hurt, to be rejected directly. But not half as much as she thought it would. She wasn’t embarrassed, and she didn’t crumble. It was disappointing but crucially, it wasn’t humiliating. There was something powerful in honesty.
‘I hope you didn’t mind that I asked, and that it won’t make things too weird. OK, that’s that done, then.’
She turned to leave.
‘Edie,’ Elliot said, ‘don’t you want to know why?’
She turned back. ‘I’m assuming you don’t find it an attractive enough prospect? I can probably live without the detail.’
‘You’ve had a difficult day, and you’re sad. If it was the hearts and flowers sort, I’d worry you only really wanted company and closeness. If it was the other, I’d worry you only wanted sex.’
Edie wasn’t catching his meaning.
‘… I said whichever, though?’
‘That sounds like you mean this is casual.’
‘Is that a problem?’
‘Yes. I can’t do casual. I was past casual …’ he smiled, ‘ages ago, I’m afraid.’
‘I don’t think I’m following you.’
‘If w
e’re going to do this, I want you to want me the way I want you.’
Her heart was racing. Oh God, if they were going to do it …? But the way that …? Edie hoped they weren’t about to have a ‘my desires are unconventional’ moment.
‘What sort of sex should I have said I wanted?’
‘The sort where it doesn’t matter, as long as it’s with me. The sort where you mean it.’
Oof. Edie felt lightheaded.
‘Sorry to be so direct, but y’know, we’ve come this far. If you don’t know how I feel, it could be awkward in the aftermath.’ Elliot paused. ‘In summary, we can do it, just don’t expect to have fun here, OK. I’m serious about you.’
Edie burst out laughing as her heart went ka-dum ka-dum ka-dum.
What did she say now? She composed herself, with some effort, given her legs no longer seemed to exist.
‘You’re asking if this is casual for me? I don’t feel casual about you. I feel … everything about you.’
A long look and a silence stretched between them.
‘Maybe, if you’re staying, you could take your coat off?’ Elliot said eventually, gesturing at Edie’s favourite tartan number.
‘Oh, hah, yeah!’ Edie let out a goofy laugh and pulled it from her shoulders, turning to hang it on the banister. As she turned back to gabble something nervously, Elliot caught her, hands on her shoulders, and kissed her. He’d shaved since Gun City and Edie felt herself almost swoon at the soft brush of his jaw and sensation of his mouth on hers. It was confident – you’d expect that really, given the Blood & Gold practice – but gentle and warm and he tasted so right, and Edie had to control herself to concentrate on the moment and the man and not let her internal monologue shriek YOU’RE TOTALLY TOUCHING TONGUES WITH ELLIOT OWEN.
Why did things that were so simple, seem so complex beforehand? Of course they could kiss. Of course it would feel this right. Of course it would be this incredible. Easy.
From the sitting room, Radiohead’s ‘Creep’ drifted out. Edie broke from his hold.
Who's That Girl? Page 35