by Shae Banks
“Is there anything more I can get you, Lyla?” the funeral director asked, as he poured the tea. His movements were slow, but steady. Years of practice, an expert at what he did, made every word and motion a way to put his clients at ease. It was working.
With a shake of my head, I smiled and accepted the cup and saucer he held out to me. “No thank you, Paul. I’m over the worst, physically, I think.”
His understanding smile was all the reply I received as he handed Thom another cup.
On the table at my side was a bible and rosary, subtly placed, so as not to make any sort of statement. The book looked old and well loved. The accompanying rosary appeared to be mother of pearl, and it glistened in the afternoon sunlight that streamed through the window.
“Lloyd looks peaceful,” Thom commented, pulling my attention back to the matter at hand.
Paul bowed his head. “Thank you. Are there any additions you’d like to make to his resting arrangements, Lyla?”
I shook my head. “I… Why was he dressed in civvies?”
Thom turned slightly to face me. “I sent some of his clothes in. I know he wouldn’t want one of those silk gowns…”
“If you would like us to change his clothes, that wouldn’t be any trouble,” Paul offered, picking up on Thom’s unease.
I shook my head. “No, no it’s fine. I don’t know how these things are done. I thought maybe—”
“I should have asked,” Thom interrupted. “I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped…”
I didn’t know why, but he was falling over himself to explain. “We had a conversation a long time ago, and it came up. We each said that unless it was in action, we wanted to be recognisable to our families. How they were used to seeing us.”
Pulling my brows in, I thought for a moment. The only family he had since Dad had buggered off to Tenerife, was me, and we hadn’t been all that close in recent years. Okay, so he visited me now and then, but I hadn’t been to see him since he took over the house. I didn’t even want to think of his altercation with Francis back in December. Despite all that, he’d considered me above all else?
“Is the casket suitable?” Paul questioned, interrupting my thoughts. “That could be changed if you have alternate preferences. There are more eco-friendly options, for example.”
I managed not to snort. As though Lloyd gave a shit what he was buried in. “No, no that one’s lovely. Can he go in with Mum?”
He paused. “Umm, yes, I don’t see that being a problem. Do you remember when—”
“Her funeral was April twelfth, eleven years ago now,” I replied, rattling off the date. As if I could ever forget the first time my world fell apart.
“That long?” Paul muttered to himself, making a note of the date. “Consider that matter closed. Have you considered a service?”
I shook my head. “Somehow, I don’t think a church service would be appropriate.”
The truth was Lloyd hadn’t followed a religion. Neither of us had. Francis had insisted on a church wedding to please his mother, and I’d conceded because it didn’t matter to me where we married. It wasn’t about the day for me. The irony of that stung now.
Paul nodded. “How would you feel about a graveside humanist service? The weather should be pleasant, given the time of year, and there should be ample room for anyone coming to pay their respects. It also negates the need to hire a building. If it were a cremation service, the crematorium would suffice, but given your preference of burial, it would suit your requirements.”
I looked to Thom. “What do you think?”
He tightened his hold on my hand and set down his now empty cup. “Nobody liked an outdoor event more than Lloyd.”
While that description was more likely to describe a music festival, football match, or piss-up in the garden at any other time, it was fitting for Lloyd’s send off.
“And afterward somewhere with a beer garden?” I suggested.
Thom’s smile raised my spirits.
Taking that as a safe lead, Paul cleared his throat before saying, “So, tell me about Lloyd.”
Thom held his phone out to me once we’d climbed into his car. “Call Sam. Let him know we’re leaving and where you want him to meet you. He should get there about the same time as us.”
“Before I do,” I began, trying to hold myself together, “I just wanted to thank you. I know I pushed you away all last week, even most of this week, but you’ve been there the entire time and I don’t think I could have gotten through all this without you. I’m sorry.”
He didn’t respond immediately, and I wondered if he were going to tell me he was done with it. That he was tired of my shit. Instead, he smiled, leaned over, and kissed me.
“Lyla, I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through. That you’re allowing me to do this much with you is a privilege. Don’t apologise for grieving. I only want what’s best for you.”
Colour rose in my cheeks and I looked down at his phone.
“Call Sam,” he urged, starting the car.
Not wanting to invade his privacy, I clicked contacts and scrolled down to S. Once I found Sam’s name, I hit call and raised the phone to my ear. On the second ring, the call connected.
“Alright, dickhead?” Shuffling sounded through the phone.
“That’s nice. Hello, Sam.” I sniggered. His greeting instantly lifted my spirits and made the air seem easier to breathe.
“Oh, God! Sorry! I thought you were Thom.”
“Thom’s driving. Do you still want to meet for that coffee?”
“Absolutely. Give me ten to get dressed and I’ll meet you at that new place in town.” Movement sounded through the phone, and my brain practically short-circuited at the idea of him being naked. Oh, God, I shouldn’t be thinking of him like that.
“Sure thing,” I croaked. Thom sniggered next to me, having heard what Sam said.
A grunt and more rustling came through the line. “Save my number in your phone. That way you can call me from yours and I won’t be so rude.”
“You weren’t rude,” I reassured him, “but I’m half tempted to call you from Thom or Ryan’s phone in the future just to see how you’ll greet me.”
He groaned through the phone, so I let up on teasing him. “See you soon.” I hung up.
After taking his phone from me, Thom asked, “Are you eating out or would you like Ryan to make enough for both of you?”
I contemplated it for a moment, but wasn’t able to decide one way or the other, so I shrugged. “I’m not sure what Sam’s plans are, but I’d like to be home for us to all eat together.”
It had become a nightly ritual before my body decided to try and kill me. With Ryan and Thom working, one of us would have dinner ready and we’d spend the time around the table catching each other up on our day.
“Hey.” Sam smiled as he held the car door open.
“Hey, yourself. Thanks.” I grabbed my bag from the footwell and gave Thom a quick peck before Sam shut the door.
With Thom gone, leaving just the two of us, Sam shuffled on his feet as if nervous to be alone with me. I hoped it wasn’t still his guilt over Lloyd causing it.
“Is this the place?” I eyed the building. As a child, I remembered it being part of an old carpet factory that had long since closed its doors. Someone must have split the building up at some point and sold the smaller places off to companies. The brickwork was how I remembered it, but the inside was what caught my attention. No two chairs at the tables matched and were all brightly coloured, but it didn’t look out of place with the low hanging lights with their brightly coloured shades. It tied the interior with the dull, brown brick together beautifully. It was a mixture of funk and industrial, but they’d successfully pulled it off, so it didn’t give you a headache by looking at it.
We moved away from the door, so we weren’t blocking the entrance, and both dumbly stared at the drinks boards lining the walls behind the counter. There were so many different types of tea and cof
fee that it had me wondering how anyone could make up their mind so easily.
Sam pulled my attention away from the boards. “What would you like?”
I unzipped my handbag and put my hand inside to pull my wallet out. “I can get—”
Sam cut me off. “No, let me.”
Settling for something simple, I closed my bag and replied, “Hot chocolate, please. Thank you.”
Over the course of our drinks, the lunch rush had kicked in, and Sam’s shoulders had grown tenser every time someone else came in and had gotten to the point that they were practically around his ears.
“Are you okay?” I asked, halfway through my drink.
He looked up from staring daggers into his coffee. “Huh? Yeah. Still getting used to being back. Takes a while to get used to all the noise.”
I didn’t like seeing the pinch between his brows and watching him struggle with being here, so I downed the last bit of my drink and spoke over the noise. “It wouldn’t be so bad if people didn’t insist on shouting over the room to each other. Want to grab a film and go back to the house?”
Uncertainty settled across his features. “Are you sure?”
With a nod, I placed the cups on the tray in the middle of the table and pulled my cardigan off the back of the chair. “You only had to say this was bothering you, Sam. I wouldn’t have minded. I’m struggling a bit and I’m used to the city. Come on.”
He grabbed the tray before I could and took it over to the clean-up station. When he reached me, he smiled and mouthed, “Thank you.”
With a grin, I pulled the strap of my handbag over my shoulder. “Don’t thank me yet, you don’t know what film I’m going to pick.”
21
Lyla
The previous evening passed quietly once Thom and Ryan got home. The four of us ate dinner together, then we moved into the living room and watched a movie, which was followed by me having a very early night. My first day up and about had been exhausting.
Today was a different story.
I prepared dinner. Okay, so it was a simple chicken dish I could throw in the oven and leave, but it was progress. The rest of the day I alternated between lying on the sofa, reading, and wandering aimlessly around the house. I was still wearing those ridiculous stockings, but didn’t dare take them off aside from showering. In a toss-up between thrombosis and stockings, I chose the latter.
I’d barely seen Sam. He’d gone out early with Gunner and didn’t usually return until Ryan and Thom were due home from work. Although, if I heard right, then the side gate had been opened and Sam was home earlier than usual. Thankfully, I had considered him when portioning dinner, though, and hoped he liked paprika.
The sound of the key unlocking the front door alerted me to the arrival of one of the other guys. The door swung open and was followed with, “Lyla?”
Ryan’s call had become usual. He always called my name when he walked through the front door, even when I hadn’t responded to his greeting the many days since I’d come home from hospital. That was going to change.
“I’m in here. Want a cuppa?” I called back, preparing to get up from my seat at the kitchen table.
As soon as he saw me sitting at the table, he beelined for me. His reply came in a deep, achingly missed kiss.
“Mmm, I missed you today,” he murmured, cupping my cheek with his left hand and grinning down at me. “Everything okay?”
I couldn’t stop the smile. “Yeah. Dinner should take about an hour and we have that second film to watch after. Sam just got back, I think he’s out there feeding Gunner. Thom called, he’s running back so he should be here in half an hour.”
He studied my face for a moment, his eyes bright. “Sounds like you’ve got everything under control. I’ll go shower and help you with dinner.”
He kissed me a final time before running upstairs, and I savoured the tingling feeling left behind.
The back door banged against the wall, bringing me back to the moment, and I looked around.
“Sorry, tripped on the step,” Sam muttered, opening the cupboard Gunner’s food was kept in before returning the scoop. He still looked exhausted.
“Dinner in an hour,” I informed him, closing the magazine I’d been browsing earlier. “Ryan just got back, he’s in the shower. Do you want a drink?”
He shook his head and made for the sink. “I’ll get it. It’s great you’re feeling well enough to be this active, but I don’t want you to overdo it on my account.”
There was concern in his tone. “There’s no danger of me overdoing anything,” I assured him with a small laugh. “For every ten minutes I’ve spent doing something I’ve spent thirty more sitting on my ass.”
“Good,” he remarked with a glance back at me. “When do those stitches come out?”
“Next week,” I told him with a grimace. “Not looking forward to it.”
Placing a glass of water on the table, he pulled out a chair and sat. “Once they’re out, it’ll be easier to do stuff. Just remember it takes months for the internal damage to heal.”
“Yes, Doctor Sam,” I sassed with a small salute.
His lips quirked up at one side and he shook his head. “What’s this you’re reading? Men’s Health?”
I shrugged. “To be honest, it’s more interesting than the average women’s magazine. That’s all impossible beauty standards, starvation diets, and tales of woe. I don’t need to read about it, I’m bloody living it.”
“So you chose men’s sexuality, fashion, fitness, and…” He frowned down at the front cover. “That is not a realistic standard. I don’t know many guys with abs like those.”
Heat rose in my cheeks and he pushed the magazine back towards me.
He gave me a knowing look. “You were just ogling, weren’t you?”
“I resent the accusation,” I replied indignantly.
Pressing his lips firmly together, he shook his head again in mock dismay.
“Oh, sod off,” I muttered, turning the magazine over to display the latest Audi model on the back cover.
When I glanced back up, he was grinning. The humour reached his eyes, lighting them up, and for the first time, I really saw him.
The happy him. The relaxed him. For a moment, all his grief was gone, and I found myself hoping to see more.
Glancing up at the ceiling, he tilted his head. “Sounds like my turn. I’ll be down in time for dinner.”
I listened to the bathroom door opening and nodded. “I’ll come get you if you’re not. I know what you’re like when you have earbuds in.”
“Oh, I see how it is. You want to get me out of the shower.” He winked and left.
Open-mouthed, I struggled for a comeback as my brain automatically went to the gutter and wondered what he’d look like we—
With a harrumph, I turned the magazine back over.
My head was settled on Thom’s lap, with his right hand over my chest, and my feet resting on Ryan’s thighs. Both of Ryan’s hands lay gently on my ankles, the smooth fabric of my sexy hospital stockings an uncomfortable barrier between our skin. I’d enjoyed two hours of constant contact with them.
Sam stretched in the armchair opposite the sofa I occupied. “Well, that was… different.”
“I liked it,” I remarked, as Thom changed the channel and I dropped my hand down the front of the sofa to pet Gunner—I invited him inside since we were spending the evening together.
“It was good, if you can ignore their blatant disregard for the laws of physics,” he argued.
“He’s right,” Ryan agreed. “But if you ignore that, it was great.”
“There’s a sequel out next month. Maybe we could go see it?” Thom suggested, running his fingers up and down my free arm.
I was about to reply when the sound of my ringtone cut me off, and Sam grabbed my phone from the hall.
Ryan helped me up, my stomach hurting with the awkward movement, and exchanged a look with Sam as he handed me the handset.
Looking at the screen, my heart sank.
“You don’t have to an—” Thom began.
“Hello?” One word, and I was unable to hide the contempt I felt.
The three of them fell silent.
“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for days!”
No greeting. Just straight in with the reprimand.
“Unwell. What do you want?” I demanded, while I headed for the door.
“The army called looking for you,” he responded testily. “The Casualty Notification Officer. I assume your brother was hurt.”
There it was. The caring, compassionate man I married. “He’s dead, Francis,” I stated bluntly. I got annoyed when I couldn’t stomp up the stairs and had to take my time through risk of pulling my stitches. Breathless when I reached the top, I headed straight into my room. “I’m okay, thanks for your concern, recovering with the help of my friends, and the funeral is planned. If there’s nothing else—”
“Lyla…”
There was a pause.
Experience told me the cogs were turning, and that never led to anything positive. I didn’t want to hear it, and I debated hanging up and turning my phone off.
“I miss you.”
I blinked. Did I just hear him right? “You miss me? Really? Well, it’s a little late for that. I may have only been free for a few weeks, Francis, but in that time, I’ve discovered what’s really important to me and—”
“Family is important, Lyla. We, I, am your family.” His patronising tone stirred my irritation with him.
Family? I’d been many things to him, but family had never been one of them. If I’d been treated with a fraction of the respect his mother received, I might have been happy. As it stood, I was lower in the pecking order than his damned cat.
I refused to allow him to think he could weasel his way back in. “No. You had the chance to be, but you never really cared. The delay was unfortunate, haven’t been well myself, but after the funeral, I’ll be seeing a solicitor. I’d appreciate—”