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‘Ruby, get down here! Now!’ he demanded, trying to concentrate on his impatience instead of that damn ripple.
The commanding tone worked because seconds later he had his arms full of warm, breathless woman. Her scent – citrus and roses – filled his nostrils as his face was covered by a cloud of hair. His hands grabbed a hold of something soft and fleshy as he staggered backwards, struggling not to drop her on her butt while her giddy shriek deafened him.
After a few major wobbles, and some hand and limb adjustments, at last they stood, safe and reasonable steady, together, a few feet from the edge of the water – her head buried against his neck, her hair making his nose itch and her arms wrapped so tightly around his shoulders she was close to strangling him.
But weirdly, he didn’t care.
‘You okay?’ he asked, enjoying the soft, pliant weight of her way too much.
She lifted her head. The shadows cast by the trees and the dying light made it impossible to see her expression, but her delighted chuckle gave him all the answer he needed. ‘Yes, thank you.’ Her peppermint-scented breath whispered across his mouth as she sighed. ‘Did you learn how to catch in Varsity crew, too?’
‘Nope,’ he said. ‘That would be shooting hoops with the college basketball player who shared my dorm room.’
Although he couldn’t see it, he could hear the smile in her voice when she replied. ‘Upper body strength and great hand-eye coordination. Who knew a university education could be so useful?’
Was she hitting on him? It sure sounded like it and it occurred to him he should put her down now. He certainly didn’t want to encourage any flirting. It also occurred to him that he really didn’t want to put her down.
He flexed his fingers on her soft flesh, inhaled the fierce, floral scent that clung to her hair one last time, then forced himself to let her go. He held on to her waist a nanosecond longer than was strictly necessary but then she stepped back. Her face caught the light of the street lamp. A wrinkle had formed between her brows, and her eyes were even wider than usual.
If she had been flirting, she already regretted it.
‘I guess we should get this over with,’ she said with a sigh, as she smoothed her little skirt down and then hauled a large plastic container out of her pack.
She sent him a weary smile and he watched the dark cloud of grief settle over her again. ‘Really, thanks for doing this with me. It means …’ The words choked off.
He sunk his hands into his pockets, uncomfortable again. Emotion really wasn’t his thing.
‘Where do you think we should do it from?’ she asked.
He turned, to examine the layout of the lake, or what they could see of it in the dark. There was a building on one side that he guessed housed some changing rooms, a wide path that circled the lake at the water’s edge and a small jetty which led out to what looked like a bathing platform. ‘You think you can make it out there in the dark?’ he asked, pointing towards the platform. ‘It’d probably be best to scatter them as far out as we can get. That way if there’s blowback, he won’t end up on the grass.’
‘Good thinking, Batman,’ she said, the plucky tone like that of a GI about to jump off a landing craft onto Omaha Beach. ‘Matty definitely would not want to end up getting stepped on by the Serpentine Ladies’ Bathing Club tomorrow morning,’ she added, marching off towards the jetty with her container.
He followed, preparing to stand back and give her space to say her final goodbye. But after she had unscrewed the lid and dropped it on the backpack, she turned towards him, the container clasped to her chest.
‘Do you know the words to “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”?’ she asked. ‘You didn’t sing along during the screening, but I just wondered if you might know the words anyway?’
‘I guess,’ he said, because didn’t everyone know the words to that song?
‘It was Matty’s favourite show tune.’ She paused and gulped in a breath. ‘He liked to hum it while he was doing difficult or scary stuff, such as The Royale’s VAT return or skydiving over the Grand Canyon. He said it made him feel brave and bold and happy no matter what. Would you …’ She sniffed. ‘Would you sing it with me while I scatter his ashes?’
‘Sure,’ he said.
She smiled at him then, the curve of her lips sad but genuine and his throat became kind of tight.
Then she began to sing.
She had a rich, melodic, pitch-perfect voice which trembled over the lush, true notes of the tune. He joined in the choruses he could remember about bluebirds and chimney tops as the grey remains of the uncle he’d never met – but now kind of wished he had – swirled into the air and spread out over the glassy surface of the lake.
The final notes of the song died as the last of the ashes sunk beneath the dark water. They stood in silence together, the intermittent swish of rain-slicked tyres and the rumbling hum of engine noise from the cars on the bridge the only sound.
He swallowed to dislodge the raw spot in his throat.
Her breath hitched, loudly. And he braced himself.
But she didn’t cry, or sob, or crumble. She simply stared at the water, drew in another sharp breath, then whispered. ‘Bye Matty, you silly old sod. I love you to bits. And I always will.’
Two seconds later, they got arrested.
