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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
No one tells you when you marry that sexy older man that you’ll have to stand at his funeral with his daughters who hate you. Gloria’s not here, thank God, and there’s no sight of her – I swear, I’ll kill her if she shows up.
Except, I don’t want a scene.
I’m on the edge of the pew, then Charlotte, then the three of them.
The pews are tiny.
Luke is behind me and on the edge of a pew too, as he’s speaking. Next to him are Jess and Mum and then there’s his old mum and brother.
It dawns on me, as I stare at his coffin, that really, Jess is the only person I have. Everyone else in this room is for him and my friends from school are friends from Charlotte’s school, not mine.
I didn’t really have friends and the few I did, well, I’ve always stayed well away from my past.
My friends from the gym are here, I tell myself. But, in truth, we don’t really talk about much.
I have never felt more alone.
I am alone.
I have Charlotte of course but I’m there for her, not her for me.
I have Mum.
Yeah, right – as if I can ever rely on her.
I close my eyes. I cannot cry but I don’t want to be on my own.
I never have been.
Not since I was sixteen.
Not since I discovered men and left home.
And now, when there is so much to deal with, the time I need someone the most, I am alone and I don’t think I can be.
Luke stands to read the eulogy and I wonder how he’s going to play it. He clears his throat and stands for a very long time before he starts speaking. Luke goes through all the formal stuff - his name, the town where he was born and a bit about his brother and parents and then he pauses.
‘I found it really hard to write this,’ Luke admits then. ‘The Jamesons were my neighbours growing up.’ He talks about the family that they once were. How Luke had a single mum, so he sort of looked up to him. He tells how, when Luke’s mum died, he and Gloria took him in for a few months and he speaks a little bit about his time there. Luke mentions all the Original Jameson Girls and how he often told Luke, when they played golf, how proud he was of them. Luke explains how, when he finished university, he ended up working at the same company as him and how well he did there. How he sped through the ranks, how he shot out of working class and then I hear the shift, I know it’s coming… but then along came Lucy….
I close my eyes but of course he doesn’t say that.
‘For all he was the funniest, cleverest man I have ever met, he could be hard work at times and was certainly no saint …’ Luke says and then he gives a thin smile. ‘We had a few rows about it, but the fact was, he never wanted to be one.’ There’s a soft ripple of laughter that spreads through the church as he addresses what is.
What was.
What remains.
‘We didn’t speak for a couple of years and then he rang me one night.’ Luke looks over to Charlotte. ‘He was a dad again and so very proud…’ Luke’s voice breaks and Charlotte looks up, I feel Alice’s arm go around her when, for a moment, mine can’t. ‘This time, he told me, he wanted to do things right.’
He speaks on and though I don’t always recognise the family man that Luke’s talking about, sometimes I do. Sometimes Luke captures him. How funny he was, how much charm he had, how he could convince anyone of anything. As I listen, I forget how angry I am, but I can’t forget because then I might cry.
He talks some more about a man who was generous and lavish, at times to a fault.
He was generous and lavish, I sit there and think, not just with his willy, but also with so many other things. He would, as Luke says, literally give you the shirt of his back. Literally, because when one of the juniors had an interview and spilt coffee, Luke retells the tale of him being hauled into Greg, the MD’s office because he was naked beneath his jacket. The congregation laughs again when Luke tells them that he was still wearing his tie.
And then it’s time to be serious.
‘The last time we played golf was in January.’ Luke tells the congregation, ‘I don’t know how this conversation came about but he’d told me that he’d always thought of me as a son.’ Luke’s voice starts to shake with emotion. ‘I wish I could change that day and my response. I said, “well I hope that doesn’t mean I have to start calling you Dad.”’ Luke’s voice breaks and my head begs him to please, just keep talking. Please keep talking, because I don’t think I can stand…
Please keep talking, I beg and I look up to him and Luke’s eyes meet mine and I just will him to go on, to finish this as he would want him to. I watch Luke drag in a big breath, I watch Luke hold it all in, so that he can get the last bit out.
He talks just a little bit more about a man who was, to so many, a huge part of their lives. A man who will be missed in different ways by so very many, and he tells him to rest in peace, he’s earned it.
And then he says it.
‘I love you, Dad.’
I can’t stand, I just can’t, except the organ starts as Luke steps down and everyone does.
Stand.
Everyone, except me.
‘Mum!’ Charlotte says, but for a second I don’t think I can. I push up and I sway just a little. I feel Alice pull away, as our shoulders almost meet, when Charlotte cuddles into me. It’s as if I'm taking up too much space, simply by being in the pew, except I’m his wife.
That's all I know how to be.
It's who I am.
Whether we were happy or not, whether our marriage was good or bad, being his wife is all I know and I'm not her any more.
I am holding the song sheet for Charlotte and my hand is trembling and I don’t know who I am.
I'm not the most important person in somebody's life any more.
Apart from Charlotte.
But I’m not talking about Charlotte.
I'm on the wrong page and I don’t know the words to the hymn, well, not very well, so I sort of mouth them.
And then it’s coming to an end. I panic because it really is coming to an end. We sit and music I recognise starts, which means soon we will head for the cemetery and I have to watch him being lowered into the ground.
Morning Has Broken.
I look at him - a photo of him, and then there’s another. He’s very young, very proud and looking a bit shocked and holding a newborn baby.
I see him with Original Jameson Girls camping.
I see his other kids on the day they were born.
I see Gloria and him in high-waisted jeans and there she is again, beaming with him on Luke’s graduation day.
I see him holding my newborn baby, he’s older, but so very good looking and yes, he looks so very proud and yes, still a bit shocked.
I see Charlotte getting her first rosette, then there’s another photo where she’s lifted in his arms and the smile on her face spells adoration.
Charlotte is weeping beside me, I go to put my arm around her but I can't move and I can’t cry, because I can't let go.
I can't faint.
I can't, because my bowels have turned to liquid and I can see the headlines now.
SCORNED WIFE SHITS HERSELF.
But there won’t be headlines, I soothe myself, because there isn't going to be an inquest and nobody ever has to know.
I tighten my arm around Charlotte’s shoulders and Mum gives my shoulder a squeeze. Jess leans forward and hands me a tissue and I wipe Charlotte’s tears and, hard bitch that I am, I don’t even blow my nose.
I hold my head up high because I have no choice.
I have to do this.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Everything, that I’ve spent my life keeping apart, is now coming together at my house.
There's Mum and her merry mob from AA, there are some of his family who like me, some of his family who hate me, his work colleagues and some mums from the school, gym and pony club.
Yes, it's an awful lot more work and yes, a hotel or church hall would have been far easier, but for Charlotte's sake I'm glad that it's being held here. She and her friends and her cousins are in the garden now. It's a glorious spring day and a lot of the adults drift out into the garden too. I’ve got a lovely garden – I have someone in once a week and I got him in for a few more hours yesterday, just to make sure that it looked nice.
‘Why don’t you take out some cheese straws,’ Mum says to one of her helpers. I’m sure she’s trying to wind me up. They’re not cheese straws – they’re Swiss cheese allumettes and I’m paying people to pass them around.
I don’t want one of her friends taking care of my business.
‘Mum!’ I snap. ‘I don’t need help. I told you, it’s all catered.’
‘Well, they’re a bit slow,’ Mum says. ‘People are hungry. Geoff,’ she calls to another one of her elves. ‘Can you take out the Bakewell tarts?’
‘They’re cherry and almond frangipane tartlets!’ I hiss to her. ‘Will you just leave it?’
I head out to the living room. Back to the “wonderful service” murmurs and a cuddle from sleazy old Greg and then one from Shirley. My eyes are wandering over Greg’s shoulder and around the room. Bonny is shovelling my buckwheat blinis, with sour cream and caviar, into her gob – she takes three of everything when it comes around and I’ve heard her moaning that there’s no food.
We could be on Mars as far as Eleanor is concerned, or back in the hospital - she’s just sitting in a chair and looking out of the window, though she asked me to get her some wine before. Maybe I should put a little call bell in her hand so that she can buzz me if she gets thirsty or needs to go to the toilet. Apparently Gloria is looking after Daisy and picking up her other children, Laura and Daniel, in a little while.
