Page 104 of Take Her On

She forced a smile and turned back to their nosy neighbour, Mrs Corstow. “Thank you for coming—and for the flowers.”

“It’s the least I could do, dear. My deepest sympathies again.” Mrs Corstow dipped her head, the enormous black-and-red fascinator almost poking Maya right in the eye. She’d always been one for dramatics, acting like the sky was falling down if their football went over her hedge when they were kids, or complaining about the bin collection. She and Grandma had never seen eye-to-eye. Maya doubted Grandma would be happy to welcome her into their home, but she couldn’t turn her away now.

She watched Mrs Corstow make her way into the living room, the ridiculous rim of her hat almost knocking over the lamp beside the buffet. She just hoped Grandma would be too distracted to notice her.

The wake occupied their kitchen and living room. Mourners in black gathered in small groups, picking at finger sandwiches and drinking glasses of wine as Mum and Grandma drifted between them. A few of Grandpa’s old colleagues had attended, talking of their times working in the steelworks together. Tony, a short, bespectacled man with a very impressive moustache, had the whole wake in laughter, telling stories of Grandpa playing the class clown and getting himself into trouble. The rest of the mourners were neighbours or Grandma’s friends from the Witch Club coming to pay their respects.

Maya’s own support group were chatting quietly in the corner. Hannah, Maddie, and Alex all looked fresh and sophisticated in their black clothing. She wondered if Hannah had borrowed her dress from Maddie’s extensive black collection. She’d been reluctant to ask her friends to come, but seeing them here was a huge comfort, even if she was still on greeting duty. Then her eyes found Jamie, whose black suit hugged her closely like a second skin. Her blonde hair had been styled with product so that her short curls were shiny and defined. Even when Maya’s heart was hurting, it still squeezed whenever she saw her.

Her gaze wandered the room, taking in the photos of the family over the years, the record player Grandpa and Grandma used to dance to before his first stroke, the outdated décor and how it felt such an embodiment of who they were as people. Maya used to wish their house was different—more modern, like the Walters’ house. Sleek floors and monochrome, matching furniture and colour themes. She didn’t wish for this anymore. She loved each of the mismatched patterns, the wonky tiles Grandpa had laid himself in the kitchen. It had character. Soul. Just like him.

She supposed she should be relieved in a way. Grandpa’s condition could come with many complications, and to pass away peacefully in your sleep was a death many weren’t so fortunate to experience. She just hadn’t expected it to happen so suddenly.

Her focus fell on the colour picture of him on display. He had much more hair in the photo than she ever remembered him having, but his smile was still Grandpa all over. Hearty and cheeky, with so many laughter lines. She missed that. He’d not laughed as much as he used to—he’d not sung much, either. Grandma would always roll her eyes at his loud and out-of-tune singing, but deep down Maya thought she enjoyed the way he’d scoop her up and force her to dance with him. Her throat constricted when she realised she’d never hear him sing again.

A hand found her shoulder, and Maya, startled, jerked her head to find her mum peering at her. “How are you doing, love?”

Her own face was sunken, with dark circles that concealer couldn’t fully hide. Maya could still see the sadness in her eyes. Her deep red lipstick was the only colour in her outfit, but even that had melancholy undertones.

“I’m alright. Just feeling him everywhere in here.”

Her mum nodded, following Maya’s gaze to her grandfather’s portrait. “I think that will be a nice thing in time.”

“I do too.” Maya turned back to her. “How are you doing?”

“I’m alright.” Her mum sighed, giving her a small smile. “I don’t think it will sink in for a while. I keep expecting to hear the TV blaring upstairs.” Her voice caught in her throat, and she pulled a tissue from inside the sleeve of her dress to dab her eyes.

Without thinking, Maya pulled her mum into an embrace, rubbing her back as she squeezed tightly. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d hugged like this. She allowed herself to relax into it, eyes pricking with emotion. It’d been a long week.

“Don’t tell me my George had to perish to witness this miracle before my eyes.”

Maya and her mum broke apart to find Grandma watching them with a sly smile, a glass of red in one hand, the other resting on her hip. She was wearing a simple black ankle-length dress with a sparkly cardigan over the top. Her milky-white skin looked even paler, if possible.

“Mum, it’s not like—”

Grandma cut her off mid-sentence with the wave of her hand. “I’m only playing the fool, Kathy, love. Someone else has to now.” She placed her glass on the table and pulled them both into a hug. “He was so proud of both of you. I hope you know that.”

Maya breathed in the familiar, comforting scent, her grandma’s wiry hair tickling her nose. “Thanks, Grandma.”

“I’m proud of you, Maya. And you, Kathy. Us girls have got to stick together now.” The slight wobble in Grandma’s voice broke Maya’s heart. “Can we do that?”

“We will, Mum. I promise.” Her mum gave them both one more squeeze before stepping back to wipe her face with her tissue.

The hum of the wake faded back in. Maya spotted Mrs Corstow observing them from the corner of the room, probably trying to eavesdrop. Mrs Corstow pivoted her head, pretending to admire the patterned porcelain plates Grandma displayed on the walls.

Maya turned back to comment on this to her grandma, but she’d grabbed her wine glass and taken up a place in front of the unlit fireplace. Instead of tapping her glass with a fork, she put her fingers to her mouth and whistled. The sharp sound cut the room into silence. When she had everyone’s attention, she smiled, adjusting her cardigan slightly.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming to celebrate the life of my George. He was a smart man, with a love for the silliness in life that made him never grow old. Not in his heart, anyway. Can’t say the same for his hair, mind.” That drew a ripple of laughter through the living room. She tapped the portrait of Grandpa thoughtfully. “He had his struggles, but he was resilient. Strong. He loved his family fiercely, and we loved him too. That kind of love transcends all physical space. It never dies or leaves. It’s eternal; it breathes into all the places around us.

“I’ve received many words of sympathy and sadness about George’s passing. While you’re right, and I thank you for your kindness, I’m a very lucky woman. I’ve had sixty-two years with a man I adored. A man who drove me crazy with his DIY efforts and stubbornness, but a man who always made me laugh. I already miss him terribly.” She blew out a breath and raised her glass. “So, friends and family, I ask that you join me in this toast, to celebrate my George, and to vow to continue talking about him. Keep his spirit and memories alive, just as his love will never die. To George.”

The room echoed Grandma’s toast, and Maya took a sip from her lemonade. She’d decided to continue her non-drinking streak, and it was going well.

She caught Jamie watching her from across the room. Jamie gave her a smile and mouthed “Are you okay?” Maya nodded, and she smiled again, touching warmth into the spaces in her chest. She wanted to go stand beside her, but with everyone now crowding in the small living room to hear Grandma’s speech, there wasn’t much room for manoeuvring.

Her mum took Grandma’s place by the fireplace to say some words of her own. They were short but heartfelt, and Maya could see her hands shaking. She was followed by Grandpa’s brother, Uncle Walter, and then his friend Tony recounted some of his favourite tales from the steelworks.

Maya didn’t feel she could find the words to convey what she wanted to say about Grandpa—especially not in front of so many people—but she knew he wouldn’t mind.