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The Godson's Legacy

Page 6

by Gait, Paul;


  Slowly she hobbled south along the now deserted southbound carriageway away from the mayhem, the broken heel giving her a strange gait as she made her retreat.

  Behind she could hear the increasing crescendo of wailing sirens from a fleet of emergency vehicles all heading towards the motorway carnage. Stroboscopic blue lights signalling the urgency of their hectic dash in their rescue mission.

  Having got to the first road bridge crossing the motorway, she walked up the grass embankment and carefully hopped over the fence onto the road.

  Behind her a fireball lit up the night sky, coupled with a large explosion that echoed across the winter white fields. She smiled evilly. ‘Goodbye and good riddance Rupert.’

  A sudden thought came to her. ‘As your grieving widow, I will inherit your estate, which will include some of Uncle Geoffery’s millions! My God, I couldn’t have expected more, even if I’d planned it myself,’ she said, excitedly.

  In spite of the inevitable mobile network congestion, she was eventually able to call a local taxi firm and was taken home. The roads gridlocked as traffic diverted away from the now closed motorway.

  The taxi driver was unable to get any form of conversation from her as she re-ran the sequence of events in her mind.

  In spite of the shock from the accident and her minor injuries, she felt elated with her day’s work, for she had danced on Geoffery’s grave and seen her pathetic husband and girlfriend killed. And to top it all, she had become a millionairess.

  CHAPTER TEN

  23rd December

  Andy spotted that Ben had left the wake in a ‘strop’. He followed him out into the corridor where he found the teenager leaning against the wall, clearly upset.

  ‘What’s the matter Ben?’

  ‘Nothing!’

  ‘Come on, I’ve known you long enough now to spot when something’s bothering you.’

  ‘I said there’s nothing,’ Ben repeated, moving away from Andy.

  ‘Oh, OK, don’t get angry about it.’

  ‘I’m not. It’s just that – Oh you wouldn’t understand.’ Ben said, shifting his gaze to the ceiling, barely hiding the tears.

  ‘No you’re probably right,’ said Andy. ‘I’ll get back to the party then.’

  ‘Yeah, well, how come you adults can even think about having a party and laughing and stuff when you’ve just been to…to his funeral?’

  ‘Are you upset about his wake?’

  ‘No. I mean yes. It’s just disrespectful. You’re all spongers! Happy cos you’re going to get his money. You don’t care he’s dead.’ Ben said, distraught.

  ‘Oh is that what you’re upset about?’ People laughing?’

  ‘No…well it’s not right.’

  ‘Let me explain something to you.’

  ‘No. I don’t want to hear. You’ll only come up with some ‘cock and bull ‘story. I don’t want one of your lectures.’

  ‘Hear me out. I appreciate you might have difficulties understanding what’s going on here, with all this apparent joviality. Is this your first funeral?’

  ‘Yeah, I didn’t go to my Gran’s funeral last year. Anyway what’s that got to do with it? People should be sad that he’s dead. He was a nice man and…’

  ‘Yes…I agree, and we are all sad that he’s no longer with us.’

  ‘You could have fooled me.’

  A hysterical giggle from one of the long legged lovelies rang out.

  ‘See what I mean?’ Ben said, dismayed.

  ‘Look Ben…how can I explain it?’ Andy said, struggling to find the right words. ‘We all know that death is inevitable for all of us.’

  ‘Yeah, so!’

  ‘So when we go to a funeral we are all sad. You saw that earlier, right?’

  ‘Yeah but…’

  ‘Let me continue…’

  ‘Go on, but you can’t convince me that it’s right.’

  ‘What we are doing now at the wake is celebrating his life. We are reliving some of the happy times we had with him. Not, as you think, disrespecting him.’

  ‘Well, those ‘dolly birds’ that walked by the side of his coffin didn’t know him…and why were they dressed like that…half naked.’

  ‘They were following his wishes.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Before Geoffery left Monaco, he held a mock funeral.’

  ‘Mock funeral?’

  ‘Yes he had a big party for his friends and the girls dressed and performed as they did today…he mentioned it in the video earlier. He went to his own wake.’

  ‘That’s weird!’

  ‘Yes but it showed that he had a sense of humour about his own mortality.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He had come to terms with his illness and decided to enjoy life to the full, while he could. That’s why he didn’t want people wearing black, the traditional colour for mourners to wear at funerals.’

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘A wake is the start of the healing process for friends and family when somebody dies. It helps people get over the grief of losing their loved one.’

  ‘Well I suppose you’re right. But it still doesn’t seem the right thing to do.’

  ‘You’ll understand, eventually. The more funerals you go to, the tougher the veneer on your emotions.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It doesn’t hurt so much. Come on, let’s see if there are any cakes left.’

  Putting his arm around Ben’s shoulders, he steered him back into the hall where the ‘long legged lovelies were doing a lively floor show, their normal occupation.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  23rd December

  The wake party was still in full swing as Andy and Helen left. The ‘long legged lovelies’ were dancing to loud music and enjoying entertaining anybody interested in watching.

  Helen had followed Andy around as he said his goodbyes. Nadine as expected gave them both a hug and kisses on the cheek.

  ‘Andee, when you come to Monaco, please call me.’ Nadine called as Helen virtually dragged him through the doorway.

  ‘You stink of that woman’s perfume!’ Helen said, angrily.

  ‘Oh, I quite like it, I was going to buy you a bottle,’ he continued.

  ‘Dream on! That is an exclusive perfume. It’s probably about five thousand quid a bottle.’

  ‘So ! Anyway, you’re worth every penny of it,’ he said, getting into the Merc.

  ‘Yeah, right!’

  ‘A special Christmas present for a special lady,’ he said, giving her thigh a squeeze.

  ‘You can pack that up for a start,’ she said, pushing his hand away.

  ‘Helen,’ he said, in an endearing voice.

  ‘No chance, after what you’ve been up to with that woman,’ she said, sternly, crossing her legs and turning away from him. Angrily she looked out of the passenger window into the dark night.

  As he drove down the long hotel drive, he noticed the car park was full with top end cars. The hotels rich clientele had arrived in a variety of expensive motors including Bentleys, Jags, Ferraris and Rollers. For the first time in his life he didn’t feel inferior in his car, all thanks to Geoffery.

  At the bottom of the drive they were forced to stop as the main road was jammed solid with static traffic. The queue stretched as far as Andy could see, there was little movement.

  ‘Blimey look at this traffic.’

  ‘Don’t change the subject. What were you up to with that woman?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Don’t come the innocent with me!’

  ‘I was comforting her, she was upset.’

  ‘Twice!’

  ‘Well it was quite a distressing day for her.’

  ‘Yes we were all sad. But we didn’t all come sobbing to you.’

  ‘Come on. These foreign types wear their hearts on their sleeve. They’re all kissy, kissy. But it means nothing.’

  ‘She was flirting with you.’

  ‘Nonsense, she was dist
raught.’

  ‘Had a guilty conscience I should think.’

  ‘About?’

  ‘Leaving Geoffery, when he was ill.’

  ‘Are you jealous?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘You ARE jealous aren’t you? Don’t worry she is so far out of my league to be on the moon.’

  ‘Sometimes they’re after ‘a bit of rough’.’

  ‘You’ve called me many things in the past, but a rich woman’s ‘bit of rough’ is something new!’

  They had been stationary at the end of the drive for some time, unable to join the main road because the traffic was not moving.

  ‘Where’s all this traffic come from?’

  ‘I thought I heard the receptionist saying that the motorway was closed.’

  ‘Oh, that’ll be the reason then.’

  ‘I’ll ring mother and let her know we’re going to be late picking the girls up.’

  ‘Good idea, this is gridlock.’

  Eventually they managed to cut across the traffic and find their way through the back lanes, avoiding the congestion and picked the children up.

  ‘There’s lots of stars out tonight Daddy,’ said four year old Amy as they drove home.

  ‘Yes Santa will be busy packing his sleigh, ready to start flying around the world tomorrow. I expect he’ll be pleased that it’s such a lovely evening.’

  ‘Look, there’s a very shiny star. Is that the Christmas star that shone down on baby Jesus crib?’

  ‘It could be, yes.’

  ‘You know you said, people go to heaven when they die?

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do they become stars? Because there’s hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of stars.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure some special people do.’

  ‘Is Uncle Geoffery a star?’

  ‘Yes darling, he’s a star,’ Andy said, moved by her poignant observation.

  ‘Right here we are,’ said Helen, as they pulled up outside their house.

  Inside the Christmas tree lights blinked on and off to welcome them home. ‘And it’s straight to bed for you missy.’

  ‘How many more sleeps before Santa comes?’ Amy said, getting out of her car seat.’

  ‘Only two now.’

  ‘Two. Oh goody,’ she said, running excitedly into the house.

  Having put the sleeping baby into her cot and the excited Amy to bed, Andy and Helen watched television for a few hours before going to bed, a thick atmosphere of mistrust between them.

  Andy decided to go for a shower before turning in but couldn’t resist the temptation to pose in front of the mirror.

  Holding his stomach in and puffing his chest out, he vainly admired his physique. ‘Not bad,’ he said, striking a pose, ‘not bad at all.’

  His ablutions over, he was disappointed when he got to the bedroom to find that Helen was already asleep. His passionate ambitions dashed. As he lay in bed he reflected on his two close encounters with Nadine.

  ‘Bit of rough,’ he whispered, savouring the words from their earlier conversation.

  His observation wasn’t quiet enough, as the dig in his ribs indicated that Helen wasn’t deeply asleep.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  24th December

  Ben had left the wake still unhappy; for in spite of Andy’s explanation, the experience of going to his first funeral and wake had upset him. He couldn’t understand the irreverence and apparent lack of grieving by the adults. Worse still was seeing and hearing Geoffery again, in the video.

  Consequently the whole episode went round and round in his head and his sleep was plagued by nightmares.

  He dreamt that Geoffery had been buried alive and had eventually dug himself out of his grave. As he crawled away from it, all his friends were laughing at him. The eight girls turned into ‘she devils’ and they kept throwing him back and reburying him. Ben had been powerless to help Geoffery, his legs frozen to the spot.

  Having lain in bed tossing and turning all night he decided to get up early and go to see Geoffery’s grave, just to check. He hoped to sort his head out too; for although he considered himself tough and worldly, Geoffery’s passing had, uncharacteristically, hit him hard.

  Getting dressed, he crept quietly downstairs. Collecting his, expensive, high spec mountain bike from the hall he wheeled it outside. Geoffery had bought him the bike as a reward, for helping him to find and bring back his Godson James from London.

  Ben had been staying in Churchup with his Grandad Harold while his Mother was undergoing ‘drying out’ at an addictions clinic.

  In spite of all her failings, Ben was very fond of his Mother and had looked forward to her return from the treatment regime. It was especially important for him over the Christmas and New Year.

  He hoped that this year she wouldn’t spoil it by being ‘out of her head’ all the time; for like any child he craved a ‘normal’, happy family Christmas and was envious of his mates who told him of all the good family fun they had at this festive time.

  There had been a heavy frost overnight; the roof tiles on the houses opposite were white; so before venturing out he wrapped up warmly

  Within minutes of clipping into his pedals, the cold air chilled him, penetrating the scarf that he’d wrapped around his face, making his nose tingle.

  As he cycled through the village a vapour trail of his exertions marked his route in the still morning air.

  The few people he saw were all cocooned against the cold in thick layers of clothing.

  Rather than taking an easy, but ‘boring’ road route, up the steep hill, he chose instead a challenging one. He wanted to test out the performance of the expensive bike with its twenty seven gears and active full frame suspension.

  His chosen route to get to the cemetery at the top of the hill took him over frost covered fields and up through the steep slopes of a small wood.

  Although the field grass was stiffened white by Jack Frost’s visit, many of the slopes under the trees were still very muddy and slippery; for in spite of Ben’s comprehensive mountain biking expertise, the patches of mud took him by surprise and he crashed several times as the bike went from under him.

  By the time he arrived at the top of the hill his black tights, gloves and Sidi clip-in shoes were thick with mud.

  The uphill track that Ben followed took him to a different gate that Sue had entered the previous afternoon, but immediately he saw the devastation on Geoffery’s grave.

  His heart stopped as he took in the carnage. ‘Oh my God,’ he gasped. ‘It’s true! Geoffery was still alive.’

  Mesmerised by it, he dropped his bike, slowly approaching the mess of scattered wreaths and damaged flowers.

  He was relieved to find the mound of soil in place, not like in his dream. However, he struggled to understand what had happened. Was this an animal or a human that had caused it?

  Surely no human would do this irreligious demolition of somebodies grave? This was a heinous crime. The devastation incensed him. He realised he was shaking, a tear beaded his eye and ran down his cheek. He picked up part of a wreath with the letters GEO still intact.

  ‘Oh my God, where’s the cross I made him?’ he said, looking around. Desperately he searched, but without success. ‘I must tell Andy.’

  Distraught, he dropped the remains of the wreath and leapt on his bike, deciding to take the faster road route back down the hill to get to a telephone.

  Unusually, he was the only one in his class who didn’t have a mobile phone, not that he particularly wanted one, but his mother kept stealing his savings to feed her addictions.

  As he cycled through the burial ground he failed to see the frost covered body of the Gravedigger still in the centre of the burial ground, hidden behind the benches, where Sue had mercilessly beaten him to the ground.

  However he did see the Gravedigger’s mobile on the path. It was several yards away from the search area which Sue had scoured in her desperate night quest.

  Ben skid
ded to a halt, sliding the back wheel around 180 degrees and picked up the rime covered phone.

  ‘Somebodies dropped their phone! I wonder if it’ll work?’ he said, wiping the frost off and pressing a button on the top. Immediately it sprang to life, a raft of apps and options presenting themselves to him.

  ‘How do I make a call?’ he wondered, quickly flicking through the screens. ‘Ah, here we are.’

  Although he didn’t have a mobile himself, he had memorised Andy’s telephone number and was relieved to hear it ringing out. After only a few rings the familiar voice answered.

  Not recognising the calling number identity, Andy greeted him formally. ‘Andy Spider, who’s calling?’

  ‘Andy, it’s me. Ben. You’ve got to come, quick,’ he said, urgently. ‘Something terrible has happened.’

  ‘I’m just getting ready for work Ben. Will it wait?’

  ‘No…It’s… It’s Geoffery’s grave. Somebody’s vandalised it. And they have taken the cross I made for him too.’

  ‘Are you there now?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What the hell are you doing there at this time of the morning?’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep….I…can you come please?’

  ‘Ok, but I can’t spend a lot of time there, otherwise I shall be late for work.’

  ‘Hurry, please.’

  ‘OK, I’ll be on my way shortly.’

  Ben put the mobile into his pocket and made his way back to Geoffery’s grave. He was distraught, as he started picking up some of the floral debris.

  Focussed on his task, he failed to hear an early morning dog walker approaching, the animal panting, straining at the leash.

  ‘Here, what the hell are you doing?’ the dog walker, a thickset man, called.

  ‘I…somebody’s done this. It’s my friend’s grave.’

  ‘A likely story,’ the other said, coming over to him. ‘Look at this mess. This place is always being vandalised. I think you have some questions to answer. I’m going to call the police.’

  ‘It wasn’t me, honest,’ Ben pleaded.

  ‘No? Then why are you covered in mud?’

  ‘I fell off my bike.’

  ‘Yes? Tell me another,’ the man said, sarcastically.

 

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