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‘We were talking about the flowers I’d taken to your mum that morning, and you asked me if it had been quiet at the cemetery.’
I nodded again, wondering if my apparent inability to vocalise a response was permanent or if my tongue was simply as shocked as the rest of me right then.
‘Do you remember what I answered?’
This time I shook my head, just for variety.
‘I said it was always quiet that early in the morning. And that was what started me thinking. That was the first domino to fall over.’
Head movements simply weren’t going to cut it any longer. ‘I’m sorry, Dad. I’m not following you.’
His hands were warm as they gripped mine more tightly. ‘I have something I have to tell you, and I want you to hear me out without interruptions. Okay?’
‘Is it something bad?’ I whispered. My heart was racing as though I was running to reach wherever it was my dad’s revelation was leading us.
Dad’s smile was gentle as he shook his head. ‘No. It’s not. Let me tell you what happened…’
*
‘It was a Tuesday morning in late September. There was a nip in the air and a thick mist on the ground, the kind that hangs around for hours and makes you drive with your head-lights on.
‘It was no surprise to discover mine was the only car in the cemetery car park. When you get there at eight o’clock in the morning, you can pretty much guarantee you’ll have the place to yourself for an hour or two.
‘I made my way to your mum’s plot – it’s a walk I swear I could do blindfolded; I know every bend in the path, every uneven paving stone.
‘I probably did the same as I do every week when I get there: I’d have said hello and then chatted away about my week while I tidied up around her plot. At that time of year there are always leaves to clear away or the odd piece of litter blown there by the wind.
‘I’m always struck by how strangely peaceful it is there, which I know sounds like an odd thing to say. In the early days, visiting her grave just about broke me, over and over again. It took a while to recognise that it was actually a comfort just being near her again.
‘So there I was, sitting on the bench, wittering on about something or other, when out of nowhere I suddenly feel a hand resting on my shoulder. Now, I don’t spook easily, but when you’re sitting in a misty, deserted cemetery, the last thing you expect is that. I jumped up like I’d been shot, and probably shocked a few of your mum’s neighbours with some pretty colourful language. I’m not sure who – or what – I thought I’d see when I spun around, but the last thing I expected was to see your Finn standing there.
‘“Christ, Ted, I’m really sorry,” he said, and I have to say he did look genuinely apologetic. “I thought about calling out to you as I approached, but I was worried it might startle you.”
‘“So you thought laying a hand on my shoulder in an empty, misty graveyard was a better plan?” I said, trying not to look like someone whose heart was still going like the clappers.
‘Finn apologised again and when he was finally done, I asked him what on earth he was doing there. I mean, it was obviously not a random coincidence. I don’t know how many times I’d met him by then, or how long you two had been going out – you know me, I’ve always been terrible with dates. But I have to say, I knew Finn well enough to realise he looked on edge – not nervous exactly, but more jumpy than I’d ever seen him before.
‘Also, it was early in the morning, but he was wearing a shirt and tie and a smart jacket. It made me wonder if he was off somewhere important afterwards. Anyway, before answering my question he holds out a bunch of exotic-looking flowers and then turns to your mum’s plot.
‘“Is that Catherine?” And I know it sounds daft, but I liked the way he said her name, without asking if it was her grave or anything.
‘I said that it was, and Finn looked down at the flowers and then back at me. “May I?” he asked, and of course I nodded and said it was fine. He walked over to the headstone and crouched down beside it. He took a moment or two to read the engraving, and there was a real sadness on his face when he got to the bit about being a beloved wife and mum.
‘“Hello, Catherine,” he said. “My name is Finn, and I wish more than anything this wasn’t the way I got to meet you for the first time.” He set down the flowers, really gently, and before getting to his feet he added, “In case you’re wondering, I’m the man who’s fallen in love with your daughter.”
‘I don’t mind admitting that got me a little choked up. I sat down on the bench and Finn crossed over and joined me. I could tell he was working up to say something important, and I think a part of me already suspected what it might be. But he’d clearly got this speech worked out in his head, and it wasn’t up to me to jump the gun.
‘“I know it might seem a bit strange to have hijacked your private time together like this,” Finn said, his eyes going from me to your mum’s headstone, like she was really standing there, instead of a big slab of marble. “But there’s something important I want to ask both of you.”
‘I bet if your mum had been there in the flesh at that moment, she’d already have been crying. To be honest, I felt a little that way myself. I nodded encouragingly for Finn to carry on.
‘“I love Gemma,” he said. “I love her more than I thought it was possible for anyone to ever love another human being. I can’t imagine a life, a world or my future without her in it. And I know that a lot of the credit for how unbelievably amazing she is comes down to both of you.”
‘My voice was a bit gruff then, as I looked down to the plot beside us. “Most of the credit for that has to go to her mum, Catherine, not me.”
‘Finn reached over and set his hand over mine for a moment, which should have felt all kinds of odd, but actually it didn’t. “I see you in her, Ted, all the time,” Finn said gently, and I truly don’t think anyone has ever paid me a higher compliment than that.
‘Finn was smiling now; I guess the hard part for him was already over. “And the reason I’m here today is to ask if you’ll both give me your blessing, because I’m going to ask your daughter to marry me.”’
