by Helen Mcginn
Flora felt as if time had stopped. ‘This can’t be happening.’ She didn’t even know if she’d said the words out loud.
‘I’m afraid it is. I wish it wasn’t, but there we are. Not immediately, of course – I’m not going to be unreasonable – but I’ve asked him to find somewhere else to live, sooner rather than later.’
‘But why?’ Flora felt guilty even asking. She hoped her mother couldn’t tell she already knew the answer.
Kate glanced down at her hands again. ‘We’ve just grown apart in recent years and now, more so than ever, I realise I need to live the rest of the life I have in a way that makes me happy.’
Flora watched her mother’s face, her lips pressed tightly together as she always did when determined not to say what she really wanted to say. Flora wanted to scream the words at her mother, but she, too, swallowed them. If her mother didn’t know about the affair, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell her. If anyone owed Kate an explanation, it was Robin.
Flora reached across the table to take her mother’s hands. ‘Did something happen?’ She felt ashamed for asking when she knew the truth, feeling her cheeks redden as she spoke.
Kate looked at her daughter. ‘No, nothing happened. I just think it’s time we did things differently.’ Kate’s gaze was steadfast, despite her eyes filling with tears.
‘Oh, Mum, please… you and Dad have been so happy for so many years. Is it really what you want?’
‘For now, I think it is. I’m sorry, darling.’ Kate’s voice was practically a whisper.
They were both silent for a while, neither knowing what to say.
‘So, what happens now?’
‘I’m not entirely sure, darling. I mean, we’re not arguing. I’m too tired to argue, anyway. Your father knows I want him to leave and I’ll give him time to do so. He’ll do as I say.’ Kate sounded firm once more.
Flora shook her head gently, as if trying to shake out the words that had been said. More than anything else, she wanted Billy to be here.
‘Oh, Flora, I’m sorry. Please don’t look like that.’ Kate reached for Flora’s hand.
‘Mum, I’m sorry. I just can’t… Can you really not find a way to…?’ Flora struggled to speak, desperately trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall.
‘I wish I could say it was all fine, Flora. But it hasn’t been fine for a while now. And we can’t stay together just because of what’s happened. Losing Billy was devastating – I’ll never get over it – but that’s not a reason to stay when I’m not happy. In fact, it gives me more reason than ever to change things.’
‘But, Mum, whatever’s going on, or happened,’ she felt her cheeks burn again, ‘can you not, I don’t know, work through it?’
Kate twisted the rings on her fingers. ‘It’s more complicated than that and I promise you it’s not a decision I’ve taken easily. I’m sure your father will talk to you, too, but I wanted you to hear it from me. It’s my decision.’ Her face was resolute.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Flora whispered, looking at her mother across the table.
‘So am I, darling. But that’s just how it’s got to be for now.’
As Flora waved Kate off, she felt more lost than ever.
‘Mack, I’m just going to sort out these deliveries for later,’ Johnny called from the back of the shop.
‘Thanks, Johnny.’ Mack stood behind the counter, working his way through the day’s post, strong coffee at his side. He’d been happy to see Johnny back in the shop, not realising quite how much he’d miss him and Flora until they weren’t there. They’d obviously had a wonderful few days away and Susie had been a great help in the shop when she’d popped in as promised. Mack hadn’t seen Flora yet, but she was due in just after lunch and he was looking forward to seeing her.
Just then the phone rang. Mack put down the letter he had in his hand and picked up the receiver. ‘Hello?’
‘Mack, it’s Flora.’
‘Hello, Flora, how are you? Are we seeing you later?’
‘Actually, Mack, is Johnny there? Something’s come up so I might not be in today after all, if that’s OK. I’m so sorry.’
‘Yes, hang on, let me get him for you.’ Mack called through to the back of the shop. ‘Johnny, Flora for you.’
‘Thanks, Mack.’ Johnny took the phone. ‘You OK?’
‘Johnny, Mum’s just been. She’s asked Dad to leave.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Well, she didn’t say exactly why, and I’m not sure if she knows about the affair or not. It was awful, Johnny.’ Flora sat down at the kitchen table. Her mother had barely been gone a few moments and Flora wondered whether the conversation had really happened; it all seemed too much to be real. ‘I’m sorry but I just can’t come to the shop right now.’
‘Don’t be silly, Flo. You don’t have to. We’ve got it covered today. I’ll be back home as soon as I can.’
‘Don’t hurry, I’m fine. I think it’s just a bit of a shock. Actually, there’s something I want to do, if you don’t mind. I want to go and see Billy. At the church, I mean. I think I just want to sit there for a bit, see if I can get things a little straighter in my head. Would you mind? I’ll be back in time to get the kids from school.’
Johnny pictured his brother-in-law’s grave, a spot in a beautiful churchyard in the small village not far from Flora’s parents’ house. Flora and Johnny had got married in that same church and, most recently, Billy’s memorial service had taken place there. Afterwards, Johnny and Flora had sat together on a wooden bench under an old cedar tree, a small plaque with the name of a long-gone parishioner behind them. He knew that was where Flora wanted to be.
‘Of course, you go. And don’t worry, I can pick up the kids.’ Johnny looked at Mack, who nodded back with a thumbs up.
‘Thank you. I’ll text you when I’m leaving.’
‘Drive carefully.’
Johnny put the phone down.
‘Is she all right?’ asked Mack, concerned.
‘It’s her parents. It’s not great news. They’re, well, separating.’
‘Oh, poor girl, I’m sure that’s the last thing she needs.’
‘I know. It’s so sad. They were always such a close family, but Billy’s death has really knocked them all sideways.’ Johnny shrugged, shaking his head. ‘Anyway, I’ll do the deliveries now, if that’s OK with you. Then I can get the children.’
‘Yes, of course. We’re good here. It’s not going to be busy today, looking at that weather.’ Outside, fat drops of rain splashed onto the pavement at the front of the shop.
‘We can go through the accounts list tomorrow. There are some new leads I need to follow up but could do with your help on wine suggestions to get them to agree to a tasting.’
‘Sounds good. Now go, or you’ll run out of time.’ He shooed Johnny away. ‘Go on.’
‘Thanks, Mack.’ Johnny drained his coffee cup. ‘Catch up later.’
Flora drove the familiar route away from the coast and across the gorse-covered heath towards the village not too far from her parents’ house. It was usually no more than half an hour’s journey but the rain had slowed everyone down. As she made the last few turns into the village and back out the other side towards the church, the rain eased. Flora got out of the car, gave the door a shove and paused to take in the view of the top of the river behind her, before turning and walking up the long path towards the church. Even though she’d seen that view countless times – so familiar and yet always changing with the seasons and the tides – it never failed to take her breath away. Best of all, there didn’t seem to be another soul around, just as she’d hoped.
She’d never really taken any notice of the headstones in the graveyard until Billy’s was one of them. Now, as she passed, she read each name, thinking of the stories behind them, the families they’d left behind. She turned off the path and headed across the grass towards the spot where a cremation headstone marked Billy’s grave. As she got closer, s
he looked ahead at the tree and the bench beneath it. Her heart sank. Someone was already sitting there.
All she’d wanted to do was sit there a while and tell Billy how furious she was with their parents. Now she couldn’t, at least not alone.
Flora walked across to the stone and laid down the small bunch of garish flowers she’d bought on the way. ‘I’m sorry, it’s all they had at the garage.’ She shrugged, speaking quietly.
She looked at his name, carved into the pale stone, the date of his birth and death painfully close together. She looked up at the sky, then back to the stone. ‘I know you’re not exactly here,’ she tapped her foot on the headstone, ‘but I know you’re here.’ She looked around. ‘And I really need to talk to you.’
Before she could stop them, tears began to roll down her cheeks. ‘Mum says she’s leaving Dad and, Billy, I feel terrible because I know he’s having an affair. And I don’t know if Mum does. I can’t say anything. Well, I could, but I’m worried that’ll make it worse, although I don’t know how it could get much worse.’ She wiped at her face. ‘God, Billy, I really wish you were here. I miss you so much.’
Suddenly conscious she’d been speaking out loud, she looked around. She could see the figure she’d spotted before, a woman sitting at the bench, wrapped in a thick black coat, a yellow scarf around her neck. Her grey hair was short, her cheeks pink with cold. Flora smiled.
The woman hesitated, then smiled briefly back. Then she stood and turned quickly, walking away towards the car park.
Why did she look familiar? Flora couldn’t place her but felt sure she’d seen her somewhere. Maybe she had seen her visiting the graveyard before? Flora looked back towards the stone in the ground. ‘Who was that?’ She looked around again, but the woman was gone.
27
‘Flo?’ Johnny called out as Flora came through the door.
‘Hi, how is everyone?’ She walked into the kitchen just as the children scraped the last bit of ice cream from their bowls. ‘On a Tuesday?’ She put her head to one side.
‘Hey, my tea, my rules. That’s all they’ve had: their body weight in ice cream.’
‘Johnny!’
‘I’m kidding. Sausages.’
‘Slightly burnt sausages,’ Pip laughed.
‘All right, no need to give me away.’ Johnny ruffled the top of his daughter’s hair. ‘So, everything OK?’
‘Well…’ Flora laughed. ‘We’ll talk later. But yes, I feel much better for going, actually. Thank you.’ She kissed her husband.
‘Ew.’ Tom pulled a face as he went to get down from the table.
‘Not at all. I’m glad you went.’
‘The weird thing is, I saw someone else there. At the church.’ Flora sat down, picking up a leftover chip and dunking it in the ketchup left on the plate.
‘What, someone you know?’ Johnny went to the fridge. ‘Want a glass?’ He held up the bottle from the fridge door.
‘Yes, please. I honestly don’t know who it was, but she looked so familiar. I’ve been trying to place her all the way home, but I just can’t. At least it stopped me thinking about my bloody parents, I guess.’ She reached out to take the glass Johnny had poured for her. ‘Ooh, that’s good. What is it?’
‘South African Chenin. Got it in the supermarket for six quid.’ He held up the bottle triumphantly.
‘Johnny, what are you thinking? That’s our competition!’ Flora looked mock-horrified.
‘I know, I just wanted to see what they had in their range and this was on offer. Couldn’t resist.’
Flora screwed up her nose. ‘It’s brilliant, annoyingly.’ She took another sip. ‘Anyway, I’m pleased I went. After seeing Mum this morning, I just needed to clear my head a bit.’
‘Hey, you two, why don’t you go and stick the telly on for a bit so I can talk to your mother.’ Johnny picked up the empty plates from the table.
‘Put your bowls in the dishwasher before you go, please,’ said Flora.
With the children gone, Johnny sat down next to Flora. ‘So, go on, what did she say?’
‘Not much, really. Just that it was complicated. And that she was sorry.’ Flora shrugged.
‘So she definitely doesn’t know about your father seeing someone else?’
‘I don’t think so. At least she didn’t say anything about it. I’m thinking I need to tell him he’s got to do everything to try and make it right.’
‘Flo, we’ve been through this. You can’t expect to be able to fix it. You’ve got to trust them to sort it out themselves. Maybe, with a little more time, they might be able to get back to normal – well, as much as they can. I mean, after the trial…’
‘Oh my God, that’s it!’ Flora banged her glass back down on the table. ‘That’s who the woman was at the church!’
‘Who?’ Johnny didn’t follow.
Flora shook her head fiercely. ‘I think it was the mother of the boy who killed Billy.’ She stared at Johnny, wide-eyed.
‘But… how do you know? You’ve never seen her, have you? There wasn’t a picture in the paper.’
‘No, but it was her. I know it, Johnny. It was the way she looked at me.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘I’m telling you it was her. She just disappeared when she saw me. Practically bolted, in fact. Seriously, I think she’d gone to see Billy’s headstone.’
‘Isn’t that a bit… insensitive?’ Johnny trod carefully, not wanting to say the wrong thing.
‘Maybe. I don’t know… She must feel wretched, though. I mean, her son is likely to go to prison for what he’s done. It’s not like actually mourning the death of a child, but living with the guilt – well, isn’t that a sentence of sorts?’
Johnny could practically see her mind racing. ‘Hang on, why do you think she would go there?’
‘It would be easy enough to figure out where the church was, given newspaper reports of the accident or the memorial service or whatever. And like I said, I think she must feel so awful, guilty even. I mean, you’d just be stuck with it forever. Honestly, she looked so, so sad.’
‘I still think it’s a bit odd to go, knowing she might bump into one of you.’
‘Well, it was a rainy Tuesday afternoon. I’m sure she didn’t want to be seen. In fact, definitely not, given that she bolted as soon as she could once she’d seen me.’
‘Do you think she knew who you were?’
‘Johnny, I was standing by Billy’s headstone talking to him like a lunatic! I’m sure she knew who I was.’ Flora laughed at the thought of that. ‘Poor thing, she must have felt terrible.’ She shook her head.
Johnny topped up her wine glass. ‘Hey, why don’t you take this and go and run a bath. I’ll make us something to eat. Go on, you’ve had a long day.’
‘Eventful, that’s for sure.’ Flora smiled at Johnny. ‘Well, I’m not going to pass that offer up, thank you.’
As she lay in the bath, her limbs flushed pink by the hot water, she kept thinking of the woman on the bench. She remembered the hair, the cheeks, the thick coat and scarf. But most of all she recognised the look on her face, that of someone haunted by something terrible.
‘Mum?’
Denise closed the door gently behind her. She took off her coat and hung it on its peg, putting her handbag over the top of it.
‘Just a minute.’ She peered at her face in the mirror on the wall, wiping at the streaked mascara on her cheeks.
‘Where’ve you been? You didn’t say you’d be out all day. I was worried.’ Stephen looked up from where he was sitting at the table by the window. The flat was almost in darkness save for a small circle of light from a lamp in the corner.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it was quite such a long way.’
‘Who were you seeing again?’ Stephen knew the answer but there was something about the way his mother had been behaving that made him wonder if she wasn’t telling him the truth.
‘I told you, I went with Jenny to see her sister
.’ Denise walked over to the kitchen and put the kettle on.
‘Where?’
‘I’m not quite sure exactly where it was, to be honest. I can’t remember the name of the village.’ Denise busied herself making a cup of tea, hoping Stephen wouldn’t ask too many more questions.
‘Right. So, how was she?’
‘Who?’
‘Jenny’s sister.’
‘Oh, fine. It was just good to get out, have a change of scene. She wanted the company on the drive. And I knew her sister years ago. We were at school together.’ Denise hoped the questions would stop. She hated having to lie but she knew she couldn’t tell Stephen where she’d really been. She knew he wouldn’t understand.
Ever since Stephen had been charged with careless driving shortly after the accident, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the man who had been killed, about his family. Night after night she lay awake in bed, thoughts of their anguish and suffering almost crushing her. She’d seen a photo of the man, who was not that much older than her own son. His face had smiled out at her from the picture in the paper, his eyes kind. Denise couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d had no idea what lay ahead that night as he drove home.
Over and over again she’d wished she’d stopped Stephen sooner. Not just going out that night – she knew that what he was doing wasn’t right – but stopped him from seeing those people. They weren’t his friends. He’d been too keen to please, desperate for them to like him. But she hadn’t been able to bring herself to say that to him. He was her son. And now it was too late.
Just like it was too late for the man he had killed, who was someone’s son.
Finally, unable to bear it alone, Denise had confided to her friend and neighbour how she felt, and Jenny had agreed to Denise’s request to drive her to visit the grave of the young man. Of course, Denise hadn’t told Stephen; he had been in a terrible way since the accident. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it, certainly not with her. Not that he saw anyone else, in fact had refused to see anyone since it happened. It just sat between them, an unbearable truth that neither knew how to deal with. She certainly didn’t expect him to understand her need to do this.