Belle was still scribbling away on her notepad. ‘What about Granny? She has to come. Maybe she might want to bring a friend.’
On that one, Rory was sure. Right now, after losing Olive, and with George not speaking to her, Sheila would be the one person less keen on coming to a party than Rory was.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Olive’s funeral was on the following Monday.
Rory had offered to go with Sheila, although the chances of being allowed time off school to attend the funeral of her mother’s neighbour were slim, but Sheila had told her that she would be fine with Barb and the others.
Rory didn’t like to think about her mum having to go to that crematorium – the same one they’d used for Frank over fifteen years ago. She could still close her eyes and remember the neutral walls, neutral carpet, neutral chairs. The room had been full – her dad had had lots of friends – but she had only been aware of her mum beside her and the coffin in front of her. She shuddered.
On Wednesday, she popped in to see Sheila after school to see how she was. As always, they went straight to the kitchen so that Sheila could make tea.
Rory leaned against the door frame. There wasn’t enough room for them both in Sheila’s tiny kitchen. Particularly when she was in ‘keep yourself busy’ mode. ‘So, the funeral went well?’
The ancient kettle was still getting itself in the mood for boiling, so Sheila busied herself with a dishcloth, wiping the sparkling surfaces. ‘It was a lovely service. There were lots of people there and everyone sang.’
Rory smiled. Her mum had been so pleased with the strong voices at Dad’s funeral. It was funny, the small things which brought you comfort. ‘Did you speak to George?’
Sheila didn’t look up, but shook her head and kept wiping. ‘There were so many people there who wanted to talk to him, I just didn’t get the chance. You know what funerals are like; long-lost relatives come out of the woodwork.’
Rory remembered. There had been people at her dad’s funeral that she had never seen before and was not likely to again. They’d known their way around a free bar, though.
Sheila found a stubborn mark on the hob on which to focus her attention. ‘The worst thing is, I know how much George must be suffering. If anyone knows what those first few weeks are like, it’s me. After the funeral, people drift away. They “leave you to your grief” like it’s an important visitor and you don’t want to be disturbed. But you do. Because when you are alone, that’s when the gaping hole opens and you don’t know how you will ever get out.’
She stopped wiping and leaned forwards. Her shoulders started to shake.
‘Oh, Mum.’ Rory put her arms around Sheila as she cried. They stayed that way for a few minutes until the kettle clicked off.
* * *
Once they had their tea, they decamped to the small sitting room. It was always tidy and clean in here, but today everything had been polished to within an inch of its life. The rug looked as if every strand had been individually brushed and then the whole thing straightened using a set square.
Rory pushed a couple of the copious scatter cushions out of the way and sat down. ‘So, is George staying with his daughter?’
Sheila picked up the displaced cushions and smoothed them down before putting them on another chair. ‘He was, but he was at home yesterday. He came into the lounge in the evening when we were playing cards to thank everyone for the flowers that we sent to the funeral. Everyone got up to speak to him, even Sid, and he shook their hands and kissed the ladies on the cheek.’
Rory put her mug down on a coaster. These had also had the right-angle treatment. ‘That’s good. Did you get a chance to talk to him?’
Sheila picked up one of the cushions again and started to fiddle with the fringing. ‘I couldn’t. I couldn’t move and he didn’t even look at me. It must have been obvious to everyone and now they must definitely think that something happened between us.’
Rory reached over and took the cushion out of her mum’s hand before she shredded it. ‘I’m sure they don’t, Mum. They probably didn’t even notice.’ And even if they had noticed, why would they think something was going on between them? George had lost his wife and Sheila had lost her friend – of course they would be quiet around each other. Almost everyone in Seymour House had been widowed: Olive’s death must be bringing back memories for many of them.
In the absence of the cushion, Sheila had started to twist the edge of the throw in her fingers. ‘But why are we being like this with each other? Absolutely nothing has happened between us. The only time we have even touched each other was that night we danced to the old music and Olive was there with us. It was her idea that we danced.’
Rory reached over and put her hand on Sheila’s. ‘I know, Mum. You’ve got nothing to feel guilty about; either of you. Like you said, these early days are so hard. He probably doesn’t even realise that you haven’t spoken. It’s a bit of a bubble, isn’t it?’
Sheila sighed. ‘I know. You’re right.’ She patted Rory’s hand and reached for her tea. ‘Well, Karen is still calling me, so that is a comfort.’
Rory felt for Karen. You were never ready to lose a parent. ‘How is she coping with it all?’
‘She is really struggling, poor love. Now her mum has gone, she has been hit with a flood of old memories about her. Memories from a long time ago. How she was before her illness took hold. She thinks it’s because she hadn’t allowed herself to think all those things whilst her mum was alive because it was too painful. She just focused on the mum who was in front of her. The mum who was vague and forgetful. Not the mum who had taught her to read and bake and kept every certificate she’d ever been awarded.’
Rory gulped her tea to push down the large lump in her throat. Grief was so unpredictable. It was the unguarded moments that got you. You weren’t even thinking about the person and then something – a song, a scent – came into your consciousness and then – bam! It was like being winded. ‘I know how she feels.’
‘Of course you do. For us, it was a complete shock. For Karen, it’s complicated. With Olive’s Alzheimer’s, she hasn’t only just lost her mum; she’s been losing her in pieces for the last eight years.’
The two of them sat there for a few moments, just sipping their tea. Lost in their own memories, recent and long ago.
Sheila took a deep breath and put down her mug. ‘That’s enough of that for now. How’s my Belle?’
Rory had been surprised how quickly Belle had moved on from Alfie. If anything, she seemed relieved rather than upset by the end of their relationship. ‘She’s great, actually. She seems to have completely bounced back. Did she tell you about the speech?’
Sheila nodded and smiled for the first time. ‘She brought it round to show me. Did you help her to write it?
Belle had to give a speech on a subject of her choice as practise for her extended project and Rory had suggested she use it to get her revenge on The Nobhead. ‘I might have given her the idea.’
Sheila chuckled. ‘It was very funny. So clever, how she compared consent to what you’d do if you were offered an ice cream. What was it? Oh yes! “You can’t tell someone that they have to eat the ice cream just because at some point it’s going to melt.” Such a clever girl.’
Rory grinned. ‘Her teacher was really pleased with her. They spent the rest of the lesson discussing the #MeToo movement. Even Alfie’s best mate wasn’t speaking to him by the end of it.’
She’d been so proud of Belle that day. She and Fiona had come home from college full of it. Giggling and laughing, like the old days. It had been lovely to see. Good friends were so important.
‘Has she told you about this damn party she’s organising?’
‘Yes, I’ve heard all about it. She wants me to come, but I’ll have to see, love. I’m a bit up and down at the moment.’
‘Of course, see how you feel on the day. I wish I didn’t have to go.’
Sheila patted her hand. ‘Don’t be like
that. You’ve done a lot of work on that house; it’ll be nice to show it off.’
‘Belle is inviting everyone she can think of. Goodness knows how we’re going to fit them all in.’
‘I assume John Prince is coming? It would be unfair not to invite him when he’s done so much of it.’
Rory knew full well that Belle had already spoken to Sheila about this. ‘I think she’s invited him, but we haven’t had his reply.’ They hadn’t heard from him at all. Rory had paid his bill online – which had seemed almost ridiculously cheap – and had received an automatic email response from his accounting software thanking her for her payment. Nothing since.
Sheila’s voice was gentle when she asked, ‘Maybe he would be more likely to come if you invited him yourself?’
This had occurred to Rory, but Belle had already invited him. If she also contacted him, wouldn’t that seem a little keen? A little desperate?
‘I don’t know, Mum. There was a time when I hoped there could be something there. But neither of us ever made a move. It’s a bit late now.’
‘Couldn’t you just talk to him? What have you got to lose?’
Rory didn’t want to think about this. ‘I could say the same thing to you about George.’
Sheila looked at her intently for a few moments, then picked up their empty mugs. ‘Come on, let’s have another tea.’
Rory followed her out to the kitchen. ‘Speaking of friends, how’s Barb?’
After clicking the kettle switch, Sheila crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. ‘Very well indeed, actually. She wasn’t as close to Olive as I was, but it shook her up; a death can do funny things to a person. She decided to move in with her bloke and left Seymour House two days later. She’d been waiting to see if he would ask her, but after Olive she just came out with it and asked him. I have to say I am glad. What is the point of waiting around for things to happen? You have to make them happen.’
Rory put her head on her mum’s shoulder. Sometimes a death made you want to hide yourself away and never come out again. Sometimes it had the opposite effect: it made you want to live. ‘Maybe you and I need to take a little bit of that advice, Mum.’
Sheila put her arm around Rory’s shoulders and kissed the top of head. ‘Do you know what, my lovely girl? I think you might be right.’
Chapter Forty
Tiny fairy lights were strewn between the lights in the lounge. Music played from Belle’s iPod – a strange mix which they had somehow agreed upon. Apart from birthday parties for Belle involving ice cream and jelly, this was the first party Rory had thrown in years. Maybe that’s why she didn’t know what to do with herself.
Sheila had been the first to arrive. ‘Barb couldn’t come, and I feel a little bit weird being at a party so soon after Olive. I might only stay a little while, but I didn’t want to let Belle down.’ She unbuttoned her cardigan and then started to button it up again.
Rory was hoping most of the guests would only stay a short while. ‘That’s fine, Mum. Go whenever you need to. Is everything okay?
Sheila stopped buttoning, or unbuttoning, and looked at Rory. ‘I spoke to George.’
‘Well done.’ Rory was impressed that Sheila had started to ‘make things happen’ to patch things up with George, but it did mean that Rory would have to uphold her side of the bargain and talk to John. If he turned up.
Sheila motioned for Rory to go back through to the sitting room and she followed her. ‘I can’t take the credit. I was fully prepared to knock on his door and talk to him, but he got there first.’
Rory turned around to look at her mother. Belle and Charlie were still upstairs, so it was just the two of them and Justin Bieber on the iPod. ‘Oh?’
Sheila settled herself on the sofa. ‘I was watching TV last night and there was a knock on my door. When I lived at the house I would have been worried about who might be the other side, but I don’t have to worry about that now.’
‘Mum. Cut to the chase.’
Sheila pulled a face. ‘Well, I opened the door and there he was. He said that he was sorry to turn up so late – it was only 9 p.m. – but he had been meaning to come all day and had finally plucked up the courage.’ She held up her hand to stop Rory rushing her again. ‘I let him in and made him a cup of tea. We slipped into our old way of chatting, although it was a little different to be in my home rather than his.’ She paused for a moment and looked thoughtful. ‘Actually, he has probably only been to my flat a couple of times before and he never stayed for longer than a few moments because he always had to get back to Olive.’
‘Mother, please!’
‘Let me tell it my way, Aurora. No one else is here yet, anyway.’
Rory sighed. She had a point.
‘We talked about the funeral and how good everyone has been, calling him and checking he’s okay. I told him how much I’m missing Olive. One of the songs we listened to together came on the radio a few days ago and it really knocked me for six.’
Rory felt bad for rushing her mum.
‘Then I talked about your dad and how I felt in the early days after we lost him. George thought he’d be prepared when Olive went, because he’d been losing her piece by piece for a long time. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t prepared at all. Well, you never are, are you?’
‘No, Mum. You never are. I’m glad he’s got you to talk to about it.’
Sheila smiled. ‘We did talk and talk. It was almost eleven o’clock. I told him that he’d have to sneak out or we’d both be in trouble with Flo. We laughed about that and I told him what Barb had done when she moved out. She bought some slinky underwear for Flo and wrapped it up for her with a label saying, “Some new knickers to replace the ones you always get into a twist” or something like that. Flo almost blew a gasket. When she unwrapped them in the communal lounge in front of everyone, I think Sid nearly blew a gasket too.’
Rory grinned. ‘I’m glad you can have a laugh. I’m sure that will do George good.’ She stood up with the intention of going to the kitchen to rearrange the glasses again. Guests would start arriving soon.
But Sheila hadn’t finished. ‘That’s when he said it. The thing that he’d come to say. The reason he has not been able to talk to me since Olive died. The reason he has been feeling guilty.’
Rory turned to look at her. ‘Which was?’
Sheila fiddled with the locket around her neck. ‘That he has feelings for me. More than just being a friend. And he feels terrible about it.’
The doorbell rang. Promising she would be straight back, Rory left Sheila in the sitting room to go and welcome her guests. Charlie was halfway down the stairs, but when he saw the group of teachers from St Anthony’s, he pulled a face and disappeared back in the direction of his bedroom.
By the time Rory returned to her mum, Sheila was in the kitchen and had put the kettle on. Nothing said ‘banging party’ more than an old lady drinking tea.
Sheila smoothed her hair down. Then her dress. Then her hair again. ‘We’re just friends, though, me and George. There’s nothing going on.’
‘Really?’ This was the perfect opportunity for revenge. ‘Nothing going on? I’ve seen the way you look when you talk about him, young lady.’
Sheila held up a warning finger. ‘Don’t you dare.’
Rory was enjoying this. ‘Maybe I should go and see him. Check what his intentions are?’
Sheila’s face dropped. ‘Oh, Rory. Please don’t. Not even as a joke. It’s too soon to be…’
‘Mum. Really? Of course, I won’t. Although it’s for his sake, not yours. You deserve it after the ribbing you’ve given me these last couple of months.’
‘Yes, where is John?’ Sheila looked around. ‘Is he coming later?’ She screwed up her eyes. ‘You did invite him, Aurora? We had a deal.’
Rory had needed to drink a large glass of wine to summon up the courage to call John and ask him if he’d got the party invite Belle had sent. But she had got his voicemail and chickened out. Sheila didn’t n
eed to know that.
‘He’s probably working, Mum. You know what he’s like when he’s on a job.’ When he was working at Rory’s he’d always been popping around. He was probably always like that. Rory hadn’t been anything special. Just another single mother to help.
‘I know what he was like when he was on this job.’ Sheila looked keenly at Rory. ‘Must be strange not having him around the place.’
Strange didn’t come close. Charlie was still in and out all the time and Belle had stayed closer to home since The Nobhead incident. But it wasn’t the same as having adult company. For someone who didn’t speak much, it was surprising how big a space John left behind.
But Rory wasn’t about to admit that. ‘Oh, look. Susie’s here. I’ll speak to you later, Mum. Say goodbye before you go.’
Susie’s face was strained. Dragon Man was with her. But he couldn’t have looked less with her if he tried. Susie held up two bottles of Prosecco. ‘Shall I put these in the kitchen?’
Rory followed her out. ‘Everything okay?’
Susie shook her head. ‘I think you were right about him. He’s been downright horrible this evening. Almost scary. I nearly told him not to come but then he turned on the charm, said he’s just had a bad day at work.’
Rory was pleased that Susie was beginning to see the light, but not that Jim was making her unhappy. ‘What does he do when he’s at work?’
Susie screwed up her face. ‘I’m not really sure. He doesn’t have a regular job. It all seems pretty casual.’
That was weird. They’d been dating for a few weeks now. Wasn’t that one of the first questions you asked someone? ‘What do you mean? Surely it’s come up?’
‘Sort of. I know he works on building sites. But I don’t think he’s like your John. Because, when I asked him to fix my shelf, he didn’t have any tools for it.’
Happily Never After_A laugh-out-loud romantic comedy Page 24