by Lyon, Raquel
I barely registered the arrival of the doctor. His words washed over me, and I watched trance-like as my grandfather’s body was taken from his beloved home.
Kendrick arrived as the vehicle pulled away. His eyes followed it down the road. “What’s going on? Who was that? What were they doing here?”
“Paps.”
“Paps? What do you mean, Paps? Where is he?”
I nodded at the vehicle as it turned the corner.
“He was in there? Is he okay?”
I shook my head silently and turned to re-enter the house.
“What’s going on?” Kendrick asked, following me. “Speak to me, man.” He grabbed my arm, forcing me to face him.
I pushed the words from my mouth and told him everything.
He stilled. “Shit.” Collapsing onto the sofa, he looked at me. “That sucks. What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will we have to move?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where will we go?”
“I don’t know. Just quit the questions, will you?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
I slept through most of the next day, and the next. I didn’t see any point in getting up, until a musty odour threatened to wilt the flowers on the wallpaper. Finally surfacing, I bunged my sheets in the washing machine and ate my first meal, but I still wasn’t ready to face the world. All I wanted was to reach out and seek comfort in Cora’s arms.
My brain got stuck on standby, and days turned to a week without my noticing. Retreating into myself and sticking to routine somehow kept me numb, and meant I didn’t have to think anymore. Not once leaving the house, I left the phone unanswered and only opened my mouth to bark at Kendrick when he attempted conversation. Even Smokey gave up trying to attract my attention and barely acknowledged my presence when I walked into the room. I knew I should take him for his walks—his stomach grew rounder by the day on a diet of stale dog biscuits and leftover takeout—but the front door felt like the hatch of a submerged submarine I daren’t open for fear of the world crashing through and drowning any remaining life left in me. Most of my time was spent sitting in Pappa’s chair, staring at the floor. The house wasn’t the same without the sound of coughing reverberating around the walls, or the scent of tobacco hanging in the air.
How quickly my life had turned to shit. This wasn’t how things were supposed to happen. Nothing that had occurred, since I’d returned from uni, had been part of my plan for the future. A small part of my brain knew I had to get back on track, but it wasn’t strong enough to kick-start the rest of it into action. It was as if I were driving along a country road with no street lighting and broken headlights, and I couldn’t see a way out of the darkness.
With the arrival of a new week, the numbness faded and my brain slowly reengaged. I realised Pappa’s body wouldn’t be held indefinitely, and I had to start making plans, whether I was ready to or not. But where to begin?
I should have been used to funerals, but my parents had both been cremated, and their spirits now drifted over their favourite picnic spot by the river, where I’d scattered their ashes. I had no idea what Pappa’s wishes were. Back when Gran was alive, they’d been churchgoers, but I was clueless as to whether Pappa wanted to be buried in St Mark’s, or not. Besides, Gran was on the mantelpiece.
My eyes drifted from the ornate urn to the bureau, beside Pappa’s chair, and a tear pooled as I remembered him sitting in front of it, glasses balanced on the end of his nose, pen in hand. He kept everything of importance behind that wooden slope. I reached over and pulled down the lid. A piece of paper drifted from within and landed at my feet; it was an electric bill. Had it been paid? Pappa had never entered the twenty-first century and bought a computer, but had he, at least, joined the twentieth to set up direct debits? What about his bank account? There was so much to think about and organise, it made my head spin. I riffled through more piles of paperwork and dragged a couple of folders from the back of the bureau to make a start.
An hour later, I had a pile of payment demands, bank statements, an address book, birth and marriage certificates, and a business card with the name of a solicitor embossed across the middle. Underneath were the words, Divorce, Employment, and Probate Specialist. It was my only lead, so I made a call, and struck lucky.
The following day, Kendrick and I sat nervously in the solicitor’s office as he read through Pappa’s will. His property was to be split equally between Kendrick and myself. My surprise was short-lived. Unless Pappa had left everything to the dog’s home, there really wasn’t anyone else in the picture. And although I was relieved we wouldn’t have to up sticks, I would rather have had Paps back than any amount of inheritance. The solicitor talked us through the normal procedure, and the things I should prioritise, and by the time we left, my head was much straighter, despite my heart being in pieces.
With so much to do, life became a series of daily tasks to be carried out, but when I managed them, I could fool myself into thinking everything was going to be okay. And with each one I completed, my head became a little clearer.
I thought about Cora every day. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her. Every time I heard the clattering of a dustbin lid, I ran to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. I wondered what she was doing, how she was feeling, and whether she was thinking about me, too. Did she even know about Pappa? Would she want to know? Should I call round to tell her? It would give me an excuse to see her. I wanted to give her the space she’d asked for, even though the wait was agonising. But it wasn’t the time to fight for Cora’s affections; I already had more than I could deal with.
***
The funeral passed by without a hitch. Pappa was laid to rest, in the plot he’d reserved, under the sycamore tree at St Mark’s, cradling Gran’s ashes to his chest. Afterwards, everyone congregated in the local community centre, where Pappa’s gardening club had organised a wake.
Standing amongst a group of strangers swapping stories of Pappa’s plant propagating prowess was low on my entertainment list, and I didn’t have a speck of inclination to push it any higher. I couldn’t wait to get it over with.
“Johnny, isn’t it?” An elderly gentleman appeared at my side.
Why can’t everyone just leave me the fuck alone? I sighed. “Yeah. That’s right.”
“My condolences to you and your brother. Your grandfather was a good man. We’ll miss him at the Rotary.”
“Thank you. We’ll miss him too,” I said, forcing a smile. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d said those words in one day, and it was beginning to grate on my nerves.
“Ron taught my grandaughter everything she knows about geraniums, didn’t he, Paige?” The old man stepped to the side, revealing a pretty, but petite, girl, wearing a high-necked dress and flat shoes. She couldn’t have been more than nineteen.
The girl nodded her head. The long, auburn fringe, of her otherwise closely cropped hair, fell across her sharp cheekbones, and cloaked one hazel eye. “He was a sweet man,” she said, sweeping the hair back with her hand. “Do you know much about geraniums?”
“A little,” I answered, not wishing to appear a know-it-all. She was kinda cute, if you liked the waif look. Before I met Cora, I probably would have asked for her number, but as much as Paige was batting her eyelashes at me, it was having no effect. All I could think about was Cora. I’d fallen hard. She had me, body and soul, and I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.
“You don’t share your grandfather’s passion for flowers then?” she asked.
“I prefer bushes.”
Her eyes twinkled. “You do?”
“Yeah. Give me a lush privet hedge to clip into shape and I’m in my element.”
“I’m down with that.” She smiled.
Paige’s flirting felt alien to me. I hadn’t meant for her to read anything into my words, so I stared at my feet, hoping she’d get the message that I wasn’t interested. “I’ll bea
r that in mind.”
“Paige? Are you Ready to go?”
My gaze rose at the sound of her grandfather’s gravelly voice.
A wrinkled hand wrapped around Paige’s elbow. “Well actually …” she started.
“Nice to meet you, Paige,” I interrupted. “Keep watering the geraniums.” I felt bad dismissing her, but better that than leading her on.
I turned from the pair and stopped dead in my tracks, unsure if I were hallucinating.
“Hello Johnny.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
My mood lifted immediately and my mouth opened, but everything I wanted to say got tangled in my throat.
“I’m so sorry about Ronald,” she said. Somehow, I didn’t mind hearing the sentiment from her lips. “I would have come to see you sooner, but I only heard this morning.”
I watched her lips move as she spoke, and all I could think about was tasting them again. My hands twitched at my sides, eager to reach out and touch places I knew so well. “You would?”
“Naturally. He was my friend. I’ve known him for years. I feel awful that he died and I didn’t even know about it. What kind of neighbour does that make me?”
The elation I felt at her appearance suddenly evaporated. “Don’t worry about it.” I sighed. As usual, Cora was thinking of formalities.
“How are you?”
And yet? “Pretty shit.”
She nodded. “And Kendrick.”
“He’s okay, I guess.”
“It must have been terrible for you.”
Now she cared? “It was. I found him right after you threw me out of your house,” I said with a note of bitterness.
“Oh Johnny, that’s awful. I’m so sorry.”
“You’ve said that.”
“It’s true.”
“Is it?” How could she leave me hanging for a couple of weeks and then turn up out of the blue, acting as if nothing more than propriety had led her back to me?
“Of course, it is. What do you take me for?”
I leaned in, a little too close, and simmering anger threw me in her face. “What exactly are you sorry for? Pappa dying? Throwing me out? Or believing your daughter’s lies about me?” As soon as I said the words, I regretted them.
Cora glanced over my shoulder, and her eyes surveyed the room. “Please don’t shout at me, Johnny. You’re causing a scene.”
I placed my hand loosely around her waist and steered her into a corner, away from the majority of mourners. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t exactly how I’d pictured us meeting up again.”
“No. Me neither.”
“So, you have pictured it?”
“I’ve had a lot to think about, in the past couple of weeks.”
“Us?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I miss you.” She paused. “But …”
“Why does there always have to be a ‘but’ with you? Can’t you just say you miss me, and leave it at that? I miss you is great. I miss you, I can do something about. Christ, Cora, you’ve no idea what I’ve been going through. You have to come back to me.”
“I thought we agreed.”
“Agreed what? I didn’t agree to anything. You told me to leave. I didn’t want to go, but you needed space. That’s all I’ve done, given you space. I wasn’t finished with our relationship. I’m still not.”
“But …”
“Another but?”
“You don’t have children. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me anyway.”
“I want to be a good mother. And Vanessa—”
“Isn’t a kid anymore. Like you said, she’ll be away to university soon, and then who knows where. You’ve been a good mother, but that part of your life is gone. You have to move on.” I pulled her close. My hand pressed against her back, sealing the contact, and her breasts squeezed tightly against my chest. Her scent wrapped around me, and her arms felt like home. It was impossible to stay mad with her. “It’s time for you. And me.” I dipped my head into her shoulder, and couldn’t resist laying a soft kiss on her collarbone.
She let out a small gasp. “Johnny. Stop. Please. People are watching.”
“Let them.” The feel of her brought everything back, and I didn’t care who saw.
She tried to part from my arms. “I have to go.”
I increased my hold. No way was I letting her get away from me again. “Good idea. I’ll come with you. We need to continue this conversation.”
“The host can’t leave.”
“Good job it’s not my gig, then,” I said, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the door.
As I turned to go through it, Kendrick blocked my path. “Where are you two sneaking off to?” he asked, his eyes flicking between Cora and me.
“Home.”
“Not without me, you don’t,” he said. I needed some alone time with Cora and opened my mouth to say so, but before I could utter a word, he continued, “Don’t worry. I won’t cramp your style. Just get me out of here. I can’t stand spending another minute with these old fogies.” He grinned at Cora. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”
Cora smiled back. “Kendrick, isn’t it?”
“Call me Rick.”
“Hello Rick.”
I pushed through the door. “Introductions can wait. Let’s go.”
***
I followed Cora back to Parkside Avenue and dropped Kendrick off at the house. But before returning to Cora, I needed to get something.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Kendrick asked, holding on to the banister as I strode up the stairs. He was still waiting for an answer when I ran back down with the tiny box in my hand. “What’s that you’ve got there?” he asked suspiciously.
I flipped the lid as I passed.
Rick’s mouth gaped at the sight of the glistening rock. “Shit, dude. That’s Mum’s ring. You serious?”
“Never more so,” I said, breathless.
“Damn it, Bro, that’s some heavy shit.”
“Sure is.”
“Aren’t you rushing things?” he shouted, as I dashed out the door.
Maybe I was, but I needed Cora to understand I wasn’t some kid, that this was it for me. She was it.
By the time I’d sprinted over the garden, to next-door, Cora was inside, and her door was locked. I banged my fist against it.
“Cora! Cora!” Why wasn’t she answering? “Cora!”
Her voice filtered through the woodwork. “Do you have to make so much noise?”
“Open the damn door and I won’t have to.”
“I think it better if I don’t.”
“Better for who? Not better for me. I’m a mess without you. Do you know how many times I’ve walked around the garden, hoping to catch a glimpse of you through the window? Or how many nights I’ve lain in my bed, imagining you lying next to me? Kendrick even talked about getting me committed. If you want to see me in the crazy house, you’re off to a good start. If not, let me in so we can talk about this.”
“I’m afraid if I let you in, I won’t be able to let you go.”
“Great! I’m good with that. Come on, Cora. Take the risk. I am not having this conversation through a slab of wood, with the neighbour’s curtains twitching.” I paused, listening for any sign of movement. As each second passed, anxiety turned to anger. “Open the door, Cora. Open the fucking door, or I’ll break it down.”
A whisper filtered through the cracks. “I believe you would too.”
“Damn right, I would.”
The lock clicked, and the door slowly opened. I was in. It was all I needed, time alone with Cora, with no one sticking their face in our business.
She turned her back on me, and walked into the living room. “I had coffee with Sheila this morning.”
Small talk? Really? “Oh?”
“Yes. It was Sheila who told me about Ronald.”
“I’m not here to talk about Pappa.”
Cora curled ont
o the sofa and hooked her hands under her legs. “She told me something else too.”
I sat down beside her, laying my arm along the cushion next to her head. My lips were inches from hers, and burned with the desire to taste them. “I’m not interested in gossip. I want to talk about us.”
Her eyes lowered. “You might find what she had to say interesting.”
“Unless she told you what a fool you were to let me go, and to hightail your ass back to me, I doubt it.”
“Actually, she was talking about visiting her son at the hospital.”
“Matt? Is he all right?”
“He was shot in a raid.”
“Fuck. But he’s alive?”
“Yes. The bullet missed his major organs. He was very lucky. Another officer died.”
“That sucks. Glad Matt’s okay, though. Can we get back to the subject of us now?” My hand unconsciously drifted to her shoulder, and I smoothed the back of my fingers over her skin.
She froze but didn’t shrug me away. “Matthew had a message for you.”
“What message?”
“He wanted you to know that it turns out the Schofield brothers were out of town on the day you mentioned.”
“Out of town?”
“Securing a shipment of drugs, it seems.” Slowly her eyes met mine. “So you see they couldn’t have hurt your brother.”
“I guess not.” So who the fuck had?
“You weren’t to blame, Johnny.”
Although secretly relieved to learn that Kendrick’s beating wasn’t my fault, after all, I wasn’t about to admit my long held fears that it probably was, and I was still pissed at Cora’s readiness to lay the blame at my door. “And saying that makes everything okay, does it?”
“I didn’t want to believe the worst.”
My fingers stilled and the tips pressed into her flesh. “Didn’t stop you, though.”
“I’m sorry I misjudged you. I told you I needed time to think.”
“You’ve had time.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“It was hard. I thought I’d decided, but I’ve been thinking about what you said at the wake.”