‘What?’ Finally, she had his attention.
Mum leaned forward and sat on the edge of her chair. ‘Naomi says her mummy comes to visit her with a man called George.’
‘Who’s he?’
‘Her friend, Naomi says he looks after her.’
‘Why?’
‘What do you mean?’ Mum snapped. ‘Does it matter?’ Dad shrugged again. ‘What’s important,’ she said, ‘is that Naomi needs to see someone.’
‘Like who?’
‘Like a doctor,’ Mum said as if she were telling a two-year-old the simplest thing in the world. ‘She needs to see a doctor. I told Marc…’
Dad as usual chose his words carefully. ‘Do you think that was wise?’ he asked.
I thought the same myself.
‘Of course.’ Mum looked at him from under furrowed brows and made it sound like he had asked a ridiculous question.
‘Well,’ Dad started cautiously. ‘I’m just thinking he might not welcome you interfering.’
‘I’m not interfering.’
‘Marc might think you are. Naomi is his daughter.’ Dad reached his hand out to her.
‘And her mother was mine,’ Mum said as she pulled away.
‘Mum seemed better,’ I commented. The world slept and George and I walked the silent streets. George did not answer so I pressed, ‘Don’t you think?’
‘What?’ George pulled himself from wherever his mind had wandered to.
‘Mum,’ I said. ‘She seemed better.’
‘Yes,’ he conceded, ‘she seemed more focused.’
‘What you would call “focused”,’ I laughed, ‘the rest of us would call controlling.’ There was no response from George. We had walked on a while before I asked, ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Really?’ I know I sounded as sceptical as I was.
He paused for a moment and seemed to be considering something. ‘There’s something that you should know,’ he said.
‘What?’ I asked suspiciously. George was acting oddly and it made me nervous. ‘What?’ I repeated, more earnestly this time.
George beckoned to a woman who had suddenly appeared beside him. She was an elegant, grey-haired woman wearing a long, grey skirt and a white blouse buttoned to the top. She walked slowly and purposefully.
‘Who’s that?’ I asked.
‘Hello, Constance.’ George held out his hand to the woman.
The woman turned her attention from George to me.’ Hello, Ellen,’ she said in a voice as sweet as treacle. ‘I’m Constance.’ My eyes flittered from her to George and back again. ‘You must be wondering who I am.’
‘Yes,’ I said nervously. I looked over her shoulder to George. He was looking at his feet.
Constance took my hand and I instinctively knew that whatever her reason was for being here, it couldn’t be good.
‘It’s your grandfather’s time,’ she said with the air of someone who was used to delivering bad news.
‘What? What do you mean?’ I looked to George. ‘What does she mean?’ His head was still lowered but he was looking at me from the corner of his eyes.
Constance reached out and took my hands. ‘I mean,’ she said, her voice calm and soothing, ‘your grandfather will be making his journey very soon.’
‘His journey?’
George stepped around Constance and stood in front of me. ‘He’s going to die, Ellen,’ he said.
‘When?’ I asked.
George looked at Constance and so did I.
‘Soon,’ she said, ‘very soon.’
‘How soon?’ I wasn’t sure if I spoke the words or just thought them.
‘Tonight.’
Tonight? How could that be? How could he die tonight? But I knew as well as anyone that anybody can die at any time. I remembered what my gran had said at my funeral about how ill he was.
‘Are you here to greet him?’
‘Yes,’ she said gently.
George took hold of my hand. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘Your granddad’ll be all right. She’ll make a better job of it than I did.’ He tried to smile.
‘Does Gran know?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ Constance said.
‘How is she?’
‘She’s happy.’
‘Happy!’ I said in a half shriek. ‘How can she be happy?’ I challenged them.
‘She’s been on her own for a long time,’ George explained.
‘Yes but …’
‘And she knows that he’s in a lot of pain and has been for a long time.’
‘I know but …’
‘And he’s ready.’
‘How can you know that?’ I could hear the tension in my voice.
‘We just do.’
‘How?’ I repeated. I know my voice was louder than it needed to be.
‘Because it’s someone’s job to know that sort of thing and report it.’
‘Someone’s job? Whose?’ Now it was not only loud but aggressive too.
‘Gerald’s.’
‘Gerald?’
‘Yes.’ George was using that voice that usually calmed me down. ‘Gerald. He’s not been in the job very long but I’m told he’s very good.’
‘And it’s his job to know when someone is ready to die?’ George must have been having an off day because I wasn’t getting any calmer.
‘Pretty much.’
‘Well, he got it wrong with me, didn’t he?’ I shouted.
I could feel Constance looking at me. She took my hand and pulled me towards her. ‘That was someone else’s decision, child,’ she said. She smiled at me and I felt better.
Constance left us shortly after that. I didn’t need to ask where she was going.
‘You alright?’ George asked. I nodded. ‘Really?’
‘Yes.’ I paused a second. ‘But why does it have to be now?’
‘Why not now?’
I looked the way Constance had walked but she was long gone. The only answer to his question I could come up with was, ‘Because Mum was just starting to pull herself together.’
I was sulking.
I sat on a wall with my feet several inches from the floor. I banged my heels against the brick.
George sat beside me plucking non-existent lint from his trousers.
‘I’m sure it would help,’ I said.
‘Never has before.’ He stopped the plucking. ‘You’ll see him soon enough,’ he said.
‘When?’ I asked.
He gave me a crooked smile. ‘When do you think?’
‘I don’t know,’ I replied, without giving it any thought.
He shook his head and laughed.
‘When?’ I pressed. I jumped down from the wall and stood in front of him.
‘You’ll need to pay your respects.’
‘What?’
‘The funeral.’ He set his head on one side.
‘Oh,’ I nodded slowly. That made sense. ‘Gran came to me on the day of my funeral,’ I told him, as if I was telling him something he didn’t know.
‘And you thought there was no method to any of this,’ he said with a hint of mockery.
‘When is it?’ I asked.
‘He’s only been dead a couple of days so they haven’t decided yet.’ He put his cigarette in his mouth. ‘Last I heard, your mum and Lizzie were arguing about a coffin.’
‘A coffin?’
‘Yeah, your mum wants oak but Lizzie wants cardboard.’
‘Cardboard?’
‘Apparently they’re all the rage with the eco-friendly types.’
‘And since when was Aunt Lizzie an eco-friendly type?’
‘Since your granddad said he wanted cremating and scattering on his compost heap. Lizzie says it’s wrong to kill a tree to burn her dad in if all they’re going to do is throw him on a pile of rotting vegetables.’
I smiled for the first time since I’d seen Constance.
‘Are they really going to scatter him on his compost heap?’
<
br /> ‘Why not?’ George jumped down and we started to walk. ‘Lizzie says he spent more time with his roses than he did anywhere else.’
We turned into the cul-de-sac that had been my grandfather’s home for over sixty years. There were a lot of people gathered outside the house. My gran stood at the gate of the house with my great-aunt Maggie, who was Granddad’s eldest sister. They were both laughing.
‘Why’re they laughing?’ I asked.
‘Why do you think?’
‘I don’t know.’
He stopped walking.
‘You still don’t get it, do you?’
‘Get what?’
‘How it works.’
‘He’s dead,’ I said lamely.
‘Yeah,’ he nodded. ‘So am I, so are you and so’s your gran.’ He turned to look at her and so did I. She laughed out loud at something Aunt Maggie had said. ‘Do you still love Marc?’ he asked.
‘You know I do.’
‘So why should it be any different for your gran?’ He put his cigarette into his mouth and inhaled. ‘Listen,’ he said exhaling the non-existent smoke, ‘how would you feel if you knew that today, you were going to see Marc? That you were going to be able to talk to him and kiss him and hold him. And you’ve been here hardly any time at all compared to your gran.’
My granddad was happy to see her. He looked half the age of the man I had seen on the day of my funeral. The wrinkles weren’t so deep, the hair wasn’t quite so grey, and there was a smile on his face.
I found that I laughed too as I saw the pair of them hug and kiss like lovesick teenagers.
‘Children present, Betty,’ George shouted in a raucous manner.
My gran turned to look at me and beamed. She held out her arms to welcome me into her embrace. ‘Hello, love.’ She kissed my cheek and pulled me close to her chest. When she let me go I turned my attention to my granddad and threw my arms around his neck. As he hugged me I was surprised by the strength in his arms.
‘It’s good to see you, love,’ he whispered into my ear.
‘I’ve missed you, Granddad,’ I said through the lump in my throat.
‘We missed you too,’ he said as his lips brushed my cheek. He held me at arm’s length. ‘You look lovelier than ever.’ Then he looked over my shoulder. ‘You must be George.’
The men shook hands.
‘Yeah.’ George was as surprised as I was. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘How do you know about George?’ I asked.
‘Naomi told me.’
‘What?’
He took a deep breath. My gran came to his side and they linked arms.
‘I knew what was going to happen,’ he said, ‘and I wasn’t afraid. Naomi’s a bright girl and she knew too. She asked me if I was going to live with her mummy and I said yes, I thought I was. Naomi …’ He started to laugh. ‘Naomi told me not to worry because things weren’t so bad when you died. She said I would get a friend to look after me. Have you met Constance?’ I nodded and waved a greeting. ‘Naomi told me you had a friend called George.’ He looked at George and laughed.
‘What?’ George asked with a smile.
‘She described you perfectly.’
‘Told you I was a good-looking bloke, did she?’
‘They weren’t her exact words.’
If it had been weird attending my own funeral, it was weirder attending my grandfather’s with my grandfather at my side. At my funeral, the front of the church had been almost full and the back relatively empty. This time, the situation was reversed. Row after row of my grandfather’s friends who had gone before him packed the back of the church.
The living made a much smaller group as they made their way to my parents’ house for what my mother called ‘light refreshments’.
For his part, my granddad seemed to be having a good time. He was treating his funeral like a school reunion. He waved from one person to the next, shook hands, and pointed out to me people I had never known.
‘Not a bad turn out,’ George commented, looking towards the living mourners.
‘Suppose,’ my granddad agreed. ‘Not as many as there could’ve been. I’ve been to a few of these things myself in the last year or two.’
A look was exchanged between George and my grandfather. They moved away with their heads together. I wondered what they were saying to each other that they didn’t want anyone else to hear.
I watched my mum and her sister hand out sandwiches and cakes. They exchanged the odd glance but nothing more.
‘Mum’s taken it badly,’ I said to Gran.
‘It’s come so close after yours,’ she said sadly. ‘And she thought the world of her dad.’
‘And you too.’
She smiled. ‘Maybe. Anyway, I’d best go and say goodbye to him.’
‘To who?’
‘Your granddad.’
‘Why?’
She sighed heavily and for the first time that day she looked sad. ‘Because I don’t live here.’
‘But …’
‘But nothing, love. There are procedures that need to be followed, things that need to be done. But it’s all right. I don’t suppose it’ll be too long before he can join me. By the time you get to his age you’re more or less expecting it so you’ve made your peace with most people.’
‘Why am I still here, Gran?’
‘I don’t know, love. But you were taken suddenly. You weren’t ready for it. You still need to make your peace.’
‘But I’m not sure who with.’
‘Hello, Mummy.’
‘Hello, darling.’
Naomi stood in front of me and once more I answered her instinctively. I looked around nervously, worried that Naomi was seeing a room full of dead people.
‘Where’s George,’ she asked.
‘He’s over there,’ I told her, nodding to the corner of the room. She waved to catch George’s attention. Thankfully, the living seemed too preoccupied with other things to notice Naomi.
‘Why’s he talking to himself?’ she asked.
‘What do you mean, darling?’ I asked.
‘Look,’ she said. ‘George is talking to himself.’ I was grateful that it appeared George and I were the only dead people she could see. ‘Why is George talking to himself?’
I was just wondering how to answer when Aunt Lizzie came to my rescue. ‘Naomi,’ she asked. ‘Are you alright?’
Naomi seemed puzzled. ‘Yes, I’m just talking to Mummy.’
My aunt nodded sagely. ‘Is your mummy alright?’ she asked.
Naomi turned to me and asked, ‘Are you alright?’ I nodded. ‘She’s fine,’ Naomi announced with a smile.
My aunt crouched down onto her haunches so her head was almost level with Naomi’s. Without knowing it she was also inches from her own mother’s knees. Gran held out her hand and moved it over her daughter’s hair.
Aunt Lizzie made a similar movement over my daughter’s head. ‘Naomi,’ she said quietly. ‘Will you tell your mummy that I miss her?’
Naomi opened her mouth but I spoke first. ‘Tell her I miss her too.’ Once more, Naomi opened her mouth but I hadn’t finished. I had seen an opportunity and I was going to take it. ‘Naomi,’ I said. ‘Tell Aunt Lizzie that she has to make Granny Peg understand that it wasn’t her fault.’
‘What wasn’t her fault?’ Naomi asked.
I looked at my aunt. ‘Just tell her,’ I said. ‘She’ll understand.’
Naomi repeated what I had said and Aunt Lizzie’s eyes widened. She seemed surprised. ‘I’ll try,’ she said quietly, looking to where she thought I was.
‘What’s the matter?’ I hadn’t noticed my mother’s approach.
‘What?’ Aunt Lizzie appeared startled by the sound of my mother’s voice…
‘What’s the matter with Naomi?’ Mum’s voice was tetchy.
‘Nothing,’ Aunt Lizzie said, forcing herself to stand. She took Naomi’s hand. ‘There’s nothing wrong with Naomi, is there?’ She patted the sma
ll hand.
‘People are starting to leave,’ my mother said as she looked around the room. ‘We’d best see them out.’ Mum walked towards the door where an elderly couple were putting on their coats.
‘Will you come and see the people out too, Naomi?’ my aunt asked.
Naomi looked at me and I nodded. ‘If you like,’ she replied, and they walked away together. Naomi stopped after a couple of steps and turned around. ‘Bye, Mummy,’ she said with a wave. Only my Aunt Lizzie had heard but when she shouted, ‘Bye, George,’ it was a different matter. Conversation stopped and George looked as self-conscious as a schoolboy caught with his trousers down behind the bike sheds.
With barely any hesitation, my aunt retrieved the situation. ‘Bye, George,’ she shouted. ‘See you later.’
On the assumption that George was one of granddad’s friends from the leek club or an old relative no-one had seen for years, the low hub of conversation started again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
My grandfather and I sat on the sofa in my mother’s living room and watched her tidying things.
‘So it’s right that Naomi can see you.’ he said.
‘Yes.’
‘Only you?’
‘And George,’ I gestured to where George sat on the arm of the sofa.
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know.’
Silence.
‘She’s been through a lot, that little ’un,’ he said. ‘I often wondered how she was coping so well with losing you. I didn’t believe your mother when she told me.’
‘Told you what?’
‘That Naomi thought she was seeing you.
‘She was … is.’
He paused and looked once again at his daughter as she collected plates from the table.
‘She wanted Marc to take her to see a doctor.’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I know.’
He looked at her again. The room was now clear of the wake’s debris and she looked around with sad, tired eyes.
‘She’ll never get over it,’ he said. ‘You were the only thing she had that really mattered to her.’
‘She’s got Dad.’
‘But he’s not you. Did you know that today is the first time she’s been in a church since your funeral?’
I nodded. ‘Yes, I’m surprised. I thought that the church would be the one place that she would find comfort. You know, God’s will and all that.’
Things I Should Have Said and Done Page 16