“It’s not just that,” she says. “You know I was confused already. And yes, Gabe says he’s going to change… but how often do people really change? When he was here, I realised how much I missed him. But that night, when I lay awake with Luke sleeping next to me, I was looking at him and I just felt… overwhelmed… with feeling for him. And I know it might be sympathy, and it was an intense situation. But I thought to myself that I love Luke. And I do. I know I do.”
“And Gabe..?”
“I don’t know! I think I love him, too, but maybe we’ve changed too much, or I have, over the last few years. Luke is a real adult; it’s not just his business or his nice car and his own flat. Watching how he’s been these last few days, I just can’t explain it. He’s dignified and sensible and serious. I think I really, truly have fallen in love with him.”
“Well, if that’s the case,” I say, “then you are doing the right thing.”
I know now that I just need to support her. How many times have I told myself that this summer, but then gone ahead and questioned her actions? I need to listen to myself now. I can see how hard this situation is for her. I feel very bad for Gabe but maybe she’s right. Only time will tell.
“What are you doing right now?” I ask.
“I’m… I don’t know. Luke’s aunty Helena has just arrived, from Plymouth. I said I’d come back to his later but I think he wants to come here instead; I hope that’s OK.”
“Of course it is,” I say, and I can’t help wondering if that means Sam is free this evening too. “Come on, let’s get some fresh air. Let’s walk to Zennor and get an ice cream.”
Julie smiles. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”
As we walk that afternoon, I decide to take Julie’s mind off things by telling her about the events of the last few days. I swear her to secrecy about the job, because I need to tell Sam about that myself; I don’t want it coming second-hand, or third-hand, from Luke.
“So we’re both staying down here?” Julie cries, delighted. “That is so great. I was going to ask David if he’d let me stay in the flat a bit longer. Do you think he will?”
“I don’t know, I can ask him,” I say. “But it might be a bit weird, if I’m in the main house downstairs!” I explain about David asking me to stay on in his place.
“That’s fine,” she says, “I’ll be like your maid or something.”
“Yes, I’ll get a bell and you can bring me supper.”
“Perfect, that’s the new job sorted, then.”
I go on to tell her about Sam returning after he’d dropped her at Luke’s.
“No!” she exclaims.
“Yep.”
“Bloody hell! This is crazy. Think back to a few months ago – April, say. Could you ever have imagined all of this stuff happening?”
I do think back. I remember April. I had a couple of days off at Easter and I did nothing with them. I went to my parents’ a few times. I went shopping. I went to the cinema on my own. I was content living like that, I thought, but now I think I wasn’t living at all.
“No,” I laugh. “So I suppose I really need to thank you for dragging me out of my little spinster-like existence.”
“Ha!” she laughs. “Now you know I’m always right.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
As we walk, the sea sparkles and shimmers. Far off towards the horizon is a large, industrial-looking boat. Despite the storm and rain the other night, the ground is dry, and cracked in places. We pass a man and his dog; the man brown and leathery-skinned, like he spends his whole life walking this path. He smiles and nods at us but doesn’t break his stride. The heat of the sun intensifies as we go and the path becomes harder work but it feels good. At Zennor we stop and rest, leaning our backs against an old stone wall while we eat our ice creams. The tables and benches are packed with families; children laughing or arguing with each other. One little boy crying because he doesn’t like the flavour of ice cream he’s chosen and he wants his sister’s; their dad red-faced, managing to win the day by giving the boy his own ice cream. Julie and I laugh between ourselves at his face as he tries the blue bubble gum flavour he’s been left with.
We sit for quite some time, taking it all in, letting everything wash over us. Just breathing and thinking, glad to be together. Happy to have each other. We refill our water bottles before we leave and begin the hot walk home; retracing our steps along the dry cracked path, sea on the other side of us now, sun on our necks. Back to the town and the flat, to our newly reformed lives.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The day of the funeral dawns sunny and clear. I’ve hardly slept all night - I’ve been tossing and turning and having weird dreams – so I feel like I’m awake to hear the actual crack of dawn, followed shortly by the screeching of gulls and then the steady whirr of the street cleaner.
Dawn is coming increasingly later in the day – there is still more summer to come but I always feel at this time of year like we’ve had the best of it. The anticipation during that long build-up to midsummer may be better than the summer itself as the days stretch out at either end and there’s promise in the air.
Today, it feels like there is just a sweet sadness. If I listen hard enough, behind the noisy, attention-seeking gulls, there are the other birds’ songs. I can pick out a robin, and a pair of blackbirds. I know that up on the headland the smaller birds are waking too, calling to each other, announcing the new day.
My thoughts move to Luke, and his dad, and Julie and Sam, both of whom have stayed over at Luke’s the night before his mum is due to be buried.
I have seen Sam a couple of times but these have been short-lived occasions, and focused on arranging things for the funeral; I was up at Luke’s yesterday baking cakes, as Julie had roped me in to helping her, and I was more than happy to. Sam had come rushing into the kitchen then stopped when he saw me and smiled.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” I replied.
Julie had tutted and laughed to herself.
“What?” we both exclaimed indignantly, then we had all laughed.
I have so much I want to say to Sam but this week has not been the right time.
The funeral is at 2.30pm, so I am going to work as normal then I’ll come back for a quick lunch and change and head to the church. Julie says it is likely to be packed out. I don’t want to take anybody’s place. I didn’t know May very well, but I want Luke to know I am there for him.
The Sail Loft is full, and there are endless calls from people almost all wanting to find a place to stay for the bank holiday weekend. There is nothing at the Sail Loft but we have a list of other independent hotels which we can send out; there are eight in town which support each other and it works very well. I am wondering whether there is more we can do to work together but it’s something for me to think about while Bea is away. I won’t be able to make any decisions like that without her but I can present her with some ideas.
Anyway, the morning flies by. At the end of my shift, Jonathan calls me into the kitchen.
“Here,” he says, “I know you’ve got a funeral to go to this afternoon and you can’t have much time. Get this down you before you go, it’ll save you some time.”
On the gleaming chrome work surface are two plates, with pie and mash.
“One for me, and one for you,” he smiles. “It’s a new creation of mine so you’ll be doing me a favour, eating it. Sweet potato, spinach, and goats cheese – with a few pine nuts.”
My stomach rumbles. “Wow, thank you!” I say, and he gestures towards the dining room. I walk in and he follows with the plates. There is a table for two set by the window.
“Funerals are horrible things,” he says. “My gran’s was last year. Mum was a mess.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Yeah, it was a nightmare. I’ve got younger twin sisters, from Mum’s second marriage, and they were crying their eyes out. I had to look after them and I didn’t feel like I was
able to say bye to Gran, really.”
“That sounds pretty awful,” I agree.
“I went travelling a couple of weeks later. I couldn’t handle it,” he admits sheepishly.
“I think that’s OK,” I say. “I’m sure your gran would want you to be enjoying your life, not sitting around and moping.”
I look at him properly for the first time and he smiles almost shyly, his teeth white against his tan. He is really nice looking, with a sprinkle of freckles across his face, but he seems so much younger than me, even though the age gap can only really be four or five years. When I was his age, I’d been through the Geoff thing and was just starting to sort my head out. It made me grow up quickly, I suppose. And listening to Jonathan talk about his gran, and his little sisters, I feel like he is a different generation to me. He makes a mean pie, though.
“Ten out of ten for the pie,” I tell him. “This is lovely.”
“Really?” His smile widens. “I never quite know with veggie stuff. I mean, I like veggie food, but most people want meat, don’t they? This takes a bit more work, getting the flavours right.”
“Well, I’d definitely add this to the menu,” I say. “Maybe we should put an emphasis on more vegetarian food – that might give us a different angle to some of the other places round here. Maybe in the quieter months, we could open the restaurant to non-residents, some evenings.”
Ever since I decided to take the job, I’ve been having loads of ideas for the Sail Loft but I have to keep myself in check. This is not my hotel. I am simply caretaking for Bea. And I know it works very, very well as it is.
“Sounds great,” Jonathan says through a mouthful of pie.
I smile. I am looking forward to working with him. He seems to be a really nice guy. I feel bad for Julie, not having a job here any longer, but she knows that the situation is of her own making. I can’t exactly sack Jonathan to get Julie her job back, can I?
With a full stomach, I rush back to the flat and put on my funeral clothes. I managed to get a black dress in the charity shop, and some shoes. It’s a hot day so I don’t want a jacket but I fold a thin cardigan and put it into my bag. I haven’t been to many funerals and I am suddenly nervous about the etiquette.
As I approach the church, I begin to feel a bit sick, thinking about Luke and how he must be feeling. I can see thirty or so people outside the church; talking in small groups. I shyly stand back. Aside from Luke and his dad, I can’t see anybody I know here. Actually, scrub that. Just inside the doorway, there is Casey (Kate, I must call her by her proper name from now on) in a short black dress, with a fascinator in her hair – which seems somewhat inappropriate for a funeral, I think. There is Sophie, next to her, in a pretty light blue dress and red shoes. I want to say hello to her but I know I need to keep my distance. Presumably Sam and Julie are around too but I know they are both meant to be helping out inside the church; handing out little booklets of photos that Luke and his auntie have put together, from key moments in May’s life.
I lean on the churchyard wall, out of the sunshine, and out of the way of the other mourners. I look around me, at the flowers, which sprout from tree trunks, cracks in old gravestones, and gaps in the wall. Then I am aware of somebody walking towards me. I look up.
“Hi, Alice,” he says, and he is smiling at me.
“Luke, hi,” I say, and I reach up to kiss him on the cheek. “How are you? Or is that the most stupid question ever?”
“No, it’s not,” he says, coming to lean against the wall next to me. “I’m meant to be greeting people by the door there, but I just can’t do it. Dad and Marie are in church already. So is Mum. They brought her coffin in last night. We had a small service; Mum’s sister and my cousins, me, Marie and Dad. Julie came, too.” He smiles again. “I couldn’t have got through this without her, you know. And I know it’s been a total mess, with me and her, and her ex. But I feel like she was meant to come into my life when she did. That sounds horribly cheesy!”
I laugh and shake my head. “No, it doesn’t. I’m glad for you, and for her.”
“I don’t expect anything, you know. None of us knows what life is going to throw at us so I’m grateful she is here, now, and I hope that we can make it work but my head is a total mess at the moment, about Mum. I know there is a long way to go with getting through losing her.” He stops and I think he is going to cry, but he swallows and continues. “Don’t be mad at Julie,” he says. “She’s been trying to do the right thing, all along.”
“I know, I know she has,” I put my hand on his arm.
“She needs you,” he says.
“Well I need her, too!”
“I can’t tell you how happy I am that you two have come back into my world,” Luke puts his arm around me, and I hug him, suddenly fighting back tears myself. “And I shouldn’t say this but I think Sam is pretty happy too.”
As if he knows he is being talked about, I see Sam appear from the wide wooden door of the church, blinking as he steps into the sunlight, looking around, presumably for Luke.
“Duty calls,” Luke says, and without another word, he strides across the churchyard. I want to shout after him but I don’t know what to say. ‘Good luck’ doesn’t seem right, somehow.
He cares so much about Julie, I think, to have come and spoken to me on her behalf – unnecessarily – at his own mum’s funeral. I hope she knows how lucky she is. I think she does.
Sam turns and smiles at Luke, then his gaze falls on me. My stomach does a little twirl. He smiles, briefly, then Luke reaches him and Sam puts a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. The two of them walk into the church where Luke’s mum lies in her coffin, surrounded by the people who love her most.
I stand at the back of the packed church, in the lobby area. I don’t know if that’s the correct term for this part of a church. I probably learned at school but if you don’t use something, you often forget it and I’m afraid I don’t use church at all any more. Now, as I stand in the beautiful, echoing building, I think maybe I should. I am not religious; I hate religion, in many ways, but churches are beautiful places, and peaceful by their very nature. The perfect setting for quiet contemplation and gathering thoughts.
There are people sitting in the pews, and lining the walls of the church, all here for May. So many people that I can’t see Luke or his dad, or Sam or Julie. I can make out Kate’s fascinator sticking up from one of the middle pews. I wonder what Sophie makes of this situation. Has she been to any funerals before?
There is an opening hymn, then a reading by a young woman, who could be Marie. I have never met Luke’s sister but I can see the family resemblance in her dark hair and eyes.
Another hymn, some words from the priest, and then Luke walks falteringly up to the altar.
He reaches the lectern, turns, and looks out ahead of him, seeing, I suppose, a sea of faces. Hot bodies packed together quietly and sombrely, remembering his mum, and supporting him. I try to imagine how he feels. He is dressed in a black shirt and trousers, with a grey-blue tie. He loosens the collar of his shirt with his finger and coughs.
“My mum,” he begins, and he gestures to the coffin which is set in the middle of the space between the pews and the altar. There are orange flowers on it – a mix of geraniums, crocosmia and roses, with wide green leaves pointing outwards. There is also a photo of May.
I catch my breath at Luke’s words and he repeats them. “My mum,” he continues this time, “would have been so happy to see you all here. Hopefully, she is somewhere that she can see all of this and she knows how many people care for her, and for Dad.”
“And you, mate,” a voice calls from one of the aisles. I smile, and Luke does too.
“She was a wonderful woman, Mum. She was a proper mum. She took me to school every day and brought me home, helped with my homework, had my friends round, all the time. She liked having people around and I know my friends loved her, almost as much as I did… do…” Luke stops for a moment, choked by his wor
ds. “She was more than a mum. She was clever, and talented. She was a great artist and you’ll see some of her paintings back at our house today. I bet none of you knew she was great with IT, too. She was well into computers, secretly. It was her that got me started with it all. She was a secret geek.” There is a light ripple of laughter at this and Luke grins. “But more than anything, Mum loved people. She loved her family. Aunty Helena and Mum were more than sisters; they were best friends. But Mum had so many other close friends, it’s impossible to name them all, and I know that you’re all here today. I know how much it meant to her that you kept coming to see her when she was ill and suffering. There was nothing to say sometimes, she told me, but you coming to see her said all she needed to know.” I can hear open crying from more than one place in the church. I want to cry myself but I really don’t feel it is my place to. I can’t claim this grief as these people do. Luke takes a moment, carries on. “There are so many things I can say about Mum but you know them already. I was so lucky to have her, and I am lucky still because I know that whatever I do, I will have her in my mind, and my heart. And it is such an easy thing to say but I want to say it anyway – Mum was lucky that her friends stuck by her and she knew how many people cared about her, but sometimes we forget to let people know and then, then they die and it’s too late. I don’t know if Mum can see us all here or not but wouldn’t it be nice to make sure that people know in life how much you care about them – if we make the effort for people now. Coming to a funeral is beautiful and respectful but making people feel loved in this life is the very best thing you can do for them. It’s what Mum always did.”
At this, Luke looks down, and I notice he has some notes in his hand but I am sure he hasn’t looked at them once during his beautiful speech. I also realise that tears are streaming down my face and I am sure those of everyone else here.
Then a quiet clapping begins in one part of the church, and another pair of hands joins in, elsewhere, then another, until the entire church is clapping Luke, as he makes his way past his mum’s coffin and back to his seat. The applause goes on for some time.
A Second Chance Summer Page 20