‘Did she really parade you like a trophy?’
‘Apparently. I talked to Aunt Lizzie a lot when I lost my …’ I stopped myself from saying the word baby. My baby had a name now. ‘… Matthew. We shared a lot of secrets.’ I contemplated my feet a moment. ‘She was very hurt but wouldn’t give Mum the satisfaction of knowing how much.’ After a long silence I added, ‘She would have made a fantastic mother.’
‘Will she be able to get through to your mum?’
I shrugged. ‘Hope so.’
We sat in silence for what felt like a long time.
‘What was that with my dad?’ I asked eventually.
‘What do you mean?’
I half shrugged and moved my head to one side, not really sure. ‘It felt like we were having a conversation.’
‘Yeah,’ George agreed.
I expected him to say more.
‘Could he hear me?’ I asked. ‘No, he couldn’t. But I was getting through to him, wasn’t I?’ I said eagerly.
‘It looked like it,’ George agreed.
‘So why can’t I get through to Mum?’ I asked.
Once more, Mum was wearing those clothes and sitting in the same chair.
There was a knock at the door and I heard my dad shout, ‘Coming,’ from somewhere, swiftly followed by the sound of steps on the stairs. The front door opened and Aunt Lizzie came into the room, followed by Uncle Paul.
My aunt couldn’t hide her shock at the sight of her sister though Mum didn’t seem to notice. Dad couldn’t hide his sadness. Aunt Lizzie quickly regained her composure and a smile split her face.
‘Well, go on,’ she said to the men, ‘shoo!’ She waved them away. ‘Off you go. You’re wasting valuable drinking time.’ She turned to her sister, ‘And we’re wasting valuable gossiping time.’ I saw pity in her eyes.
I had thought that my mum was oblivious to the scene that was being played out in front of her, but the flicker of her eyes towards my aunt showed me she was not.
‘Alright,’ said Uncle Paul. ‘We can take a hint. Come on, Brian.’
My dad was torn. I knew him and I knew what he was feeling. Yesterday, this would have seemed like such a good idea but now he was fearful of what would happen in his absence. He was about to say something to my mother but Aunt Lizzie’s eyes caught him.
‘See you girls later,’ Uncle Paul said, pulling on Dad’s arm.
‘Bye, love,’ Aunt Lizzie said. I saw her mouth ‘Don’t worry,’ to my dad.
She watched them close the door before turning her attention to my mother.
‘What do you want?’ Mum asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘What I said.’
‘To talk,’ Aunt Lizzie sat on the end seat of the sofa.
‘Why?’
After a pause, Aunt Lizzie asked, ‘Shall I put the kettle on?’
‘If you like,’ Mum said.
Lizzie had started to get out of her seat but sat down again. ‘No, I don’t like,’ she said. ‘It’s your house and your kitchen, you make the tea.’ She leaned forward to pick up the remote control and pointed it towards the television. She flicked through three or four channels before hitting the standby button, making the picture disappear into a spot in the centre of the screen. The room was silent.
The two women locked eyes and even I could feel the tension. I wasn’t sure which of them would back down first. They could both be incredibly stubborn. I was pleased for my mother’s sake that it was her who did. This was one battle my aunt could not afford to lose, for her sister’s sake.
My mother huffed as she forced herself out of the chair and made her way to the kitchen. After she was gone, Aunt Lizzie took a deep breath and puffed out her cheeks. This would not be easy for her.
‘You all right?’ George asked.
I nodded.
I looked at Aunt Lizzie and willed her to be strong. The sisters had always had a volatile relationship. They had never been close, not even when they were children but apart from Naomi, they were the only blood relation either of them had.
I was surprised to see my mother return with a mug in each hand. The surprise was also evident on my aunt’s face. My mother usually treated guests to a tray set with cups, saucers, and the tea pot. She’d had to buy the mugs a couple of years before when they were having some work done on the house and she didn’t want the builders breaking the china. I doubted they had been used since. I hoped for Lizzie’s sake that Mum had washed them. Mum put the mugs onto the coffee table and sat back down in the chair.
There was a long silence.
‘Get on with it.’
‘Get on with what?’ Aunt Lizzie asked, picking up her mug.
‘What you came for.’
‘And what’s that?’ She took a gulp of tea and tried to hide her disgust at its taste.
‘God knows.’
‘Would he?’ Aunt Lizzie replaced the mug on the table and pushed it away. She sat back in her chair. ‘I hear you haven’t been to church lately.’
‘You can talk.’
‘Hey.’ Aunt Lizzie held her hands up. ‘I make no bones about the fact I lapsed a long time ago.’ She paused before continuing, ‘But you always got such comfort from the church.’
My mother took a mouthful of her own tea before dismissing that comment. ‘That was before.’
Aunt Lizzie leaned towards her sister only to have her advances swept aside. ‘Come on, Peg,’ she pleaded.
‘What?’ my mother snapped.
‘Talk to me.’
‘About what?’
‘Anything,’ Aunt Lizzie pressed, ‘just say what you feel.’
‘What’s to say?’
‘Everything. Anything. Tell me how you feel.’
‘How do you think I feel?’
Aunt Lizzie took a deep breath. ‘I think you feel like your life is over,’ she said.
‘It is.’
‘No.’ Aunt Lizzie reached out and touched her sister’s arm. ‘Your life is not over.’
‘Might as well be.’
‘Peg, listen to me.’ I detected a change in her tone. She progressed cautiously. ‘Ellen is the one who died.’
‘And you think I don’t know?’ my mother sneered.
Aunt Lizzie sighed before repeating, ‘Ellen is the one who died, not you. You’re still alive and you have so much to live for.’
‘I’ve lost my child.’
‘I know you have. I know you have and it’s a terrible thing but you have so much to be grateful for.’ She did not pause or give my mother a chance to interrupt. ‘You had a beautiful daughter, Peg,’ she said slowly. ‘A beautiful daughter you loved and who loved you back. Can you imagine what I would have given to have had what you had?’ She looked deep into my mother’s eyes through tears that had formed in her own. ‘I would have given anything to have had that just for one minute.’
My mother closed her eyes for what seemed like a long time and when she opened them again there was compassion in them. ‘I know,’ she whispered.
‘Just one minute,’ my aunt repeated. ‘I would have given anything for one minute. I would have happily died if I could have held them.’
The sisters eyed each other in tearful silence. Part of me rejoiced because it seemed that Lizzie had finally made a connection with my mother but the rest of me grieved for the losses.
My mother was the first to turn away and without realising it, she was looking straight at me.
‘Why?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Why her?’ She turned away and back to her sister.
‘I don’t know,’ Aunt Lizzie said again.
I took a step towards her but felt weak. ‘It’s not like that.’ My words sounded as weak as I felt.
Mum took as deep breath. ‘I’ll never forgive Him for this. That’s why I haven’t been to church apart from her funeral, and that wasn’t even a proper mass. I’d never seen that priest before in my life. Don’t care to see him
again, either. All that “rejoice that she is in better place” rubbish. Hippy nonsense. I’m hardly likely to rejoice and thank Him for taking my only daughter away from me.’
Aunt Lizzie proceeded cautiously. ‘You always got such comfort from the church, Peg. Didn’t you say when I was having my troubles that I should talk to a priest?’
‘And did you?’
‘You know I didn’t.’
The conversation paused and Mum breathed deeply.
‘They’d say it was God’s will and that I shouldn’t question it,’ she said. ‘But I have to question it because I don’t understand it. How can a loving god do this to me? Why would He?’
‘You never questioned God’s will before.’
‘I should have,’ she said. ‘I should have done what you did years ago.’
Aunt Lizzie held out her hand to my mother, who hesitated before taking it. Then, as if they were performing a dance, they seemed to pull each other from their chairs and knelt on the floor, their knees inches apart. They continued to hold hands as they sat staring at each other.
‘You can get through this,’ Aunt Lizzie said.
‘I can’t.’
‘Yes, you can.’
‘How?’
My aunt inched herself forward. ‘Listen, Peg,’ she said. ‘You’ve got to pull yourself together.’ Mum started to shake her head. She paused a moment. ‘You’ll never get over it, don’t expect to because you won’t. But you have to move on. Because you’ve got the rest of your life to lead.’
The only sound was the ticking of the clock above the fireplace.
‘The last time I saw my baby she was lying in a coffin,’ Mum said in a broken voice. ‘I didn’t see her at the hospital. I wanted to … I did. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her on a mortuary slab.’ She didn’t see Aunt Lizzie’s nod. ‘She was so badly …’ Mum gave into the sobs that had been bubbling under the surface. She bent over, clutched her arms to her stomach, and rocked in time with the sobs.
My aunt put her arms around Mum’s shoulders, whispered gently into Mum’s ear, and stroked the top of her head. As Mum continued to rock, my aunt settled into the same rhythm.
I fell into the rhythm without realising it until I felt George’s arm around my shoulder.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘You don’t need to see this.’
Nor did I want to, and I allowed him to turn me away. But when I heard Mum speak I turned back.
‘I would have told her I’m sorry,’ Mum said in a voice that broke intermittently. ‘If I’d had the chance I would have told her I was sorry for all the things I’d done.’
Mum had straightened herself and sat back on her heels. Aunt Lizzie did the same.
‘I need to say sorry to you,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I’m sorry for not understanding your losses.’ My aunt lowered her eyes. ‘I’m sorry for rubbing your nose in it by always going on about Ellen this and Ellen that. It was wrong of me.’
‘It’s water under the bridge.’
‘What goes around comes around, isn’t that what our old mum always said? She wasn’t wrong; I’m paying for it now.’ Saliva was escaping from the corner of Mum’s mouth and she wiped it viciously.
‘You can’t think that.’
‘Course I do,’ Mum said in a loud voice. ‘This is His way of punishing me. But I’ll tell you something.’ The sobs suddenly stopped. ‘I’ll tell you something, Lizzie. I’m finished with Him.’
I looked at my mother and leaned into George. ‘Can we go?’ I asked.
And we left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
We walked the dark streets in silence. I was thinking about my mother.
‘What would she apologise to you for?’ George finally broke the silence.
‘Don’t know.’
We walked a little further.
‘She’s just so …’ I struggled to find the word. ‘Different.’
‘Didn’t you realise that she would be?’
‘I suppose I did. I mean, I knew that my death would affect her but I don’t recognise her as my mother anymore.’ I stopped walking. ‘If you’d asked me before I died how she would react, I would have said she’d turn to God. I would have said she’d never be away from the church praying for my soul. I would have said that she’d be at church every day but she’s not been once. I don’t understand it.’
‘It’s very common.’
‘Yeah but my mother always said that everything happens for a reason and even though we can’t always see those reasons, God can and He will always do what’s best for us.’ I looked George square in the face. ‘I would never in a million years have said that she would turn away from the church or reject God. I thought He would be the one thing that would get her through this.’
‘Like I said,’ he shrugged, ‘it’s very common.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘but don’t worry, He’s used to it. He won’t hold it against her.’
‘Won’t He?’
‘No, He doesn’t bear grudges.’ George started to walk again. ‘He knows it’s because we can’t understand death.’
‘Yes, we do.’ I objected on behalf of mankind.
He shook his head. ‘No, we accept that it’s going to happen but we don’t understand why.’
I stopped walking again. ‘And what is it that He thinks we don’t understand?’ I asked.
George stopped and looked at me. ‘That all death is natural.’ He started to move on.
‘Hang on a minute,’ I said as I grabbed hold of the arm of his jacket. ‘I was side-swiped by a drunk driver. How can that be natural?’ I could hear the anger in my voice.
He put his hand on mine and gently removed it from his arm. ‘The way you died wasn’t natural but it was natural that you would die. From the second you were born you were always going to die.’
I walked away with my head down. I’d taken about a dozen steps before I waited for George to catch up with me. ‘Was it His decision?’ I asked quietly.
‘That you should die?’
‘Yes.’
He considered for a moment before saying with a nod of his head, ‘Ultimately.’
‘But why?’ I asked. ‘What was the point?’
‘Do you think your death was pointless?’
‘Of course it was,’ I said with disbelief.
‘You’d be wrong.’
‘Would I?’
‘Daddy took me to see Granny Alice yesterday,’ Naomi said nonchalantly.
‘Did he? How was she?’
‘Not very well. One of her legs has gone puffy and purple.’ Naomi looked me in the eye. ‘Have you been to see her?’
‘No.’ I was embarrassed. It had never occurred to me to visit my mother-in-law and I hadn’t seen her since the day after I had died and Marc had gone to see her. ‘I saw Granny Peg the other day, though.’ I tried to sound enthusiastic.
‘Did you?’ She sounded excited and her face lit up.
I exchanged a brief glance with George and his head nodded just a fraction.
‘Does Daddy take you to see Granny Peg?’ I asked nervously.
I was sorry to see the light leave her face. ‘Not for a long time. The last time he took me she was acting funny.’
‘What do you mean?’
Naomi searched her limited vocabulary for the words she wanted. ‘Just funny. She looked at me funny and cried a lot.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Nothing. I didn’t know what to do.’
‘Of course you didn’t, darling.’ I gave myself a mental slap across the face for asking a child such a stupid question. Naomi looked crestfallen.
‘What’s wrong with her, Mummy?’ she asked. ‘Daddy won’t take me to see her anymore.’
‘Why not?’
‘He says she’s not very well and he doesn’t want me to get upset.’
‘Were you upset when you saw her before?’
‘A bit,’ she admitted sadly
. ‘I don’t know why I made her cry.’ As Naomi looked at me, her large eyes wore a film of tears.
I squirmed on the bed where I sat beside her. ‘It’s not your fault that she cries,’ I told her.
‘But it must be,’ she said in a way that reminded me how young she was.
‘No, darling,’ I soothed. ‘It’s not. Granny Peg cried because she’s sad I died.’
‘I’m sad too but I don’t cry all the time.’
I was going to speak but George held up his hand.
‘Naomi,’ he said. He leaned close to my daughter. ‘Your mummy was Granny Peg’s little girl.’ Naomi’s eyes went the full length of my body. ‘I know she doesn’t look like a little girl to you but she was Granny Peg’s little girl. Just like you’ll be your mummy’s little girl even when you’re all grown up. Your gran is very, very sad that her little girl has died.’
‘So why does she cry when she sees me?’
‘Because you remind her very much of what she has lost. I think that you must look a lot like your mummy used to when she was a little girl. So when Granny Peg sees you she remembers the little girl she used to have.’
‘But you go to see her sometimes, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I told her. ‘But Granny Peg can’t see me.’
‘You’d have made a great dad,’ I told George.
George shrugged and walked in silence.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I liked watching Marc work. This was the only part of his life I hadn’t shared with him.
Although he wasn’t alone, Marc was the only one doing any work in the office. He was looking through a pile of papers stacked on his desk. Stephen wasn’t there but Rosie was sitting on the edge of the desk that Diane sat behind.
Their heads were together and they were whispering. I walked over to them. I wanted to know what they were talking about. Something told me it was Marc.
‘Yeah, but he’s got a kid, hasn’t he?’ Diane said
‘So?’
‘Well, its baggage.’
‘And?’
George nudged me. ‘Can that girl use a sentence with more than one word in it?’
I laughed but didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to miss any of the conversation.
‘And what about his wife?’
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