‘Oh, well, it seems like that might have been a great shame.’ Her mum’s voice was thin, as if finally understanding that Lilly was not willing to let her in, even now.
She could only nod, because yes, it was a great shame.
‘He had a terrible war, you know.’ Her mother swallowed and stared at her, her gaze intense. They didn’t talk about this, none ofit. Lilly felt her heart beat in an irregular dance and took a slow breath through her nose as Jeannie continued, giving information about her dad she had not asked for. ‘A terrible war. It really affected him. Affected us. Me, it affected me.’
‘Is that right?’ Lilly fired, thinking that there must be very few people who’d had afantasticwar. The clue was in the name, right?
Her mum looked into the middle distance, her face contorted. ‘Nightmares that I couldn’t calm him from, no matter what I tried. That was rough. And the whistling, the constant whistling.’ She spoke through gritted teeth and closed her eyes briefly, seemingly still irritated by the memory. ‘And if he wasn’t whistling, he practised his violin, or listened to music, any music. Creating a pleasant noise so he was never alone with his thoughts. Said it was the only way to blot out the things he’d seen, the sounds he’d heard. Whistling and singing and tapping and sawing that horsehair bow back and forth, back and forth ... walking miles and miles and miles to the point of exhaustion, just to keep it all at bay. It used to drive me crackers.’
‘Did it now?’ Lilly was barely listening, choosing not to digest the facts, keeping her thoughts neutral and her distress under lock and key. Suddenly she felt very cold. Her dad’s whistle, the background noise to her life, his music, a joy as well as an education, and his long, long rambles, these were his best hobbies! What did her mum know about it? What did her mum know about anything?
‘Well, I can only hope that he knew how muchIloved his whistles, his noise, his everything!’ Keeping her voice as steady as she was able, she fired the verbal daggers at this woman who had jumped ship.
‘Oh, he knew. You were his life, Lilly-Bob, his whole life.’ Her mum spoke kindly, ignoring the jibe, as she pulled a paper tissue from the inside pocket of her grotty handbag and wiped under her nose and beneath her eyes. ‘I think sometimes it might begood if you understood it all a bit better. If you understood me a little better.’
‘Maybe.’ Lilly felt the beginnings of a headache and knew that the very last thing she wanted to talk about today was her parents’ marriage, particularly the ending of it.
‘Do you still have all his old records?’ her mum asked with a small smile twitching the corner of her mouth. Maybe she, too, was thinking about Bill Haley and jiving on that parquet flooring in her slippers.
‘No, I don’t,’ Lilly lied, wanting again to admonish Jeannie, wanting her to think that she and her dad had packed away every remnant of that old life and thrown it out with the rubbish. They hadn’t, of course, and if her mum were to visit and dig about a bit, she’d find a pot of Pond’s face cream in the nightstand on the side of the bed where she used to sleep. Neither Lilly nor her dad was ever quite able to discard it. And a red, red kiss inside a folded tissue in Lilly’s treasure box.
‘I ... I’d better get back to Derek. He doesn’t like being left alone at these kinds of things.’
‘I understand that. Being left alone really is quite shite.’
Her mum raised her hand as if wanting to touch her face, stroke her hair, or lay a hand on her shoulder. Lilly flinched while imagining all three, as her mother coiled her fingers, placing her shaking fist at the base of her throat as her tears spilled.
Derek Manners, it seemed, had had a similar thought, and approached looking sheepish, as was his way, his voice quiet, hesitant, nervous. ‘I’m sorry, Lilly.’
She stared at him, wondering what he was sorry for – destroying her parents’ marriage? Breaking her dad’s heart? Taking her mum away from her? Or the fact that her beloved dad had died? She blinked, having rarely spoken to the man, seeing no reason to start now.
‘We should probably get going.’ Her mum spoke softly.
‘Yep.’ Lilly nodded.
‘You heard about Lineker?’
‘What? No.’ It took her a second to understand Derek Manners was talking about the footballer.
‘Barcelona have just paid over two million for him.’
‘What?’ Her confusion was genuine. This was his opener at her dad’s funeral, the man he had cuckolded, ruining his life, stealing his wife, and any other Machiavellian cliché she wanted to throw in his direction? Derek Manners, the cardigan-wearing prick who lived in a flat above a TV repair shop on the Tottenham Court Road.
‘Everton have sold him to Barcelona for over two million quid.’ He shook his head. ‘Can you believe it?’
Lilly pulled a face at her mum, her disdain evident.
‘No, I really can’t believe it!’ She stared at the man until his face turned puce, and he blinked furiously, before she walked away.
It had been a long day. Her body ached with fatigue, yet her mind was wired; she needed a hot bath and sleep.
Lilly put the key in the front door.
‘Hel-loo!’ she called out, waiting to hear his response.
In the kitchen!
On the sofa!
