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Joe
Joe looked around the table and held on to the memory of them all together, his most precious people, even Lance and that was saying something because he’d really been getting on Joe’s nerves the past few days. He would deal with his eldest son, though, when the time was right. Taking a swig of his beer and while the others chatted amongst themselves, Joe took stock.
As had been the case since he found out about Bobbie, his mind had frequently wandered to her and it had given him immense comfort to talk to her, late at night as he sat in his loft, looking through his telescope at the yellowy-white glow of a far away planet, thinking about Venus. Bobbie had been so gracious about it all, and he’d teased her like old times, during their first conversation when Edie passed him the phone and closed the office door behind her, allowing them to speak privately.
He knew every word, and each time he thought of them they made him smile, as did the photo Edie had pinged over to him of the love of his life, the face he recognised in an instant, altered, but just the same, his Bobbie. He’d touched the screen as she spoke.
‘Hello Bobbie.’ Tears threatened but he’d blinked them away.
It was as though she was smiling down the phone. ‘Hello Joe… well, this is a surprise.’
He swallowed. ‘I’m sorry for leaving you, Bobbie but I did come back for you. I was too late and cocked up big time. I’ll never forgive myself for that.’
She laughed, but it was the kind and gentle type. ‘And I cocked up too so I think we should call it quits.’
This eased his heart somewhat. ‘It’s good to hear your voice. You sound posh.’
Bobbie laughed. ‘I’m not posh, I promise. It’s these southerners, they’ve rubbed off on me. You still sound exactly the same. Mancunian to the core.’
‘Always.’ His heart was killing him, and he wanted to reach out, down the phone across the miles and touch her.
‘Joe, promise to look after Edie for me. She’s a fragile soul but a good girl. I still can’t believe what she’s done though. I think I’m in shock.’
‘We all are but I swear, I’ll take good care of her.’ And then he asked a question of Bobbie. ‘Can I come and see you… as soon as all this media stuff calms down? I’d like to talk and hear about our girl.’ He bit down hard on his lip, one pain easing another.
‘I’d like that, Joe. It’s been too long.’
She was still his Bobbie, he knew it and the years didn’t matter, or the miles, even the fact they were older and a bit more wrinkled, the grey hairs and creaking bones a testament to time. In that moment, as a tear leaked from his closed eyes, he was back in Leeds, a beautiful blonde-haired goddess lying by his side, smiling up at him.
Hearing the sound of her doorbell ringing Joe knew he was about to lose her again and panicked, needing some kind of promise or plan, and sounding like a desperate teenager asked, ‘Can I call you, maybe later tonight, or tomorrow, so we can talk more? If you’re not busy.’
‘You can call me anytime, tonight is fine.’ The doorbell rang, insistent but Bobbie ignored it. ‘Do you have our song, Joe? Perhaps we could play it tonight, for Venus and then I’ll tell you how naughty and beautiful and wonderful she was.’
By the time Bobbie said goodbye, Joe was broken, pieces of his heart scattered across the desk, mingling with regrets and what-ifs, train tickets and flower petals, whisky and cigarettes, drumbeats and riffs, broken vows, and cracked dreams. And then from behind him he heard the click of the door, felt arms around his waist and in a heartbeat, someone scooped up all the pieces and put him back together.
‘Don’t cry, Grandad. It’s going to be all right, I promise.’
Since then, he’d spoken to Bobbie every day and it was like a breath of fresh air, someone who was away from all the mess at the farm, who had counselled him through his grief just by listening. They’d made vague plans to meet that would soon become promises once the furore had passed and Joe found himself wishing away the days.
The past fortnight had been horrendous, shocking, a revelation where Edie was concerned and a personal wake-up call. Since the day Gus died, and he’d found the letter in his briefcase simply addressed to Joe, he’d spent every day reflecting on the contents and the ramifications of each word. He’d kept the details to himself: everyone had had enough to contend with. But now Gus had been laid to rest, Joe would follow his friend’s instructions, head to London, and meet with their solicitor to discuss the next steps.
There were other things to do, though, the seeds of an idea, a way to make amends or at least try to. He wanted to see Bobbie, his sister Margaret and Gus’s sister, too. Set Lance on the straight and narrow. And top of the list, he needed to set Edie and Ace free. He knew his son well and Ace was struggling. And then maybe, when they came back they could be part of his vision for the future, help him with a project that was way overdue.
Tonight though, was for Gus, a chance to celebrate a life well lived and while he still could, Joe wanted to ignore the mistakes he’d made, talk only about the good times. Tellies flying out of hotel windows, stealing ashtrays from Number 10, and feeding a corgi canapés, swearing live at The BRITs and generally offending more people than they’d had hot dinners, including the Japanese nation as a whole by pointing at the crowd during a gig.
‘Right, you lot. Let’s make a move. Gus is waiting up there for the party to start so Jenny, grab your matches and your blankets. Ace, get the guitars so I can sing my mate a song and I’ll grab the booze. Lance, you can drive us up because I’m too knackered to walk there again. We’ll all get on the back of the pickup. Come on, Nanny Nanou, I’ll give you a leg-up.’ He stood and everyone followed suit, Nanou slapping his hand away when he made sarcastic heaving noises as he tried to lift her on, then thanking Edie when she brought over a chair.
Once they were all loaded up, they set off to say one more goodbye to Gus, their heads bobbing and bodies shaking as the truck bounced along the unmade road. And as La Babinais receded and the burial site came into view, something occurred to Joe who shared his moment of enlightenment with the others. ‘Fuck me! We look like the bloody Beverly Hillbillies!’
Joe had given Nanou and Silvestre the day off because he wanted to talk to the family alone, and without having to stop while Ace translated and anyway, they both deserved a bit of peace after the funeral. He was going to go over and see them later, once he’d talked things through with his lot.
Hervé had reported that apart from two journalists, the rest had packed up and gone home and with a bit of luck, the other die-hards would soon realise the show was over. He’d already arranged with Pierre that the security presence would be scaled down and for the foreseeable future the team on duty would live at the holiday cabin. He still hoped that one day La Babinais and its residents wouldn’t need protecting and they could go back to how things were.
Christ, his family were disorganised, and he was getting impatient, waiting for them to settle down, for Jenny to make a mug of green tea that she knew to drink well away from him because the smell made him gag… and now Luna wanted to go out, no, she changed her mind and Ace was giving her one more chance to make up her bloody mind. He’d had enough.
‘Right, will you just all sit down so we can get on, you’re taking the piss now.’
He watched from his place at the top of the table as Jenny and Ace sat, Edie folded her notebook and hallelujah, Lance sloped in, his smacked-arse face slightly less flushed. Earlier, Joe had spoken to him privately in the office and laid a few things on the line. He hadn’t taken it well but hadn’t stormed off to pack his things either, but that was because he was running out of options. In a phone call with Darlene who explained their son’s predicament, all had become clear, which was why Joe had offered him a lifeline and a way to save face.
