Authors: Rebecca Tope
Sarah and Dottie watched the hearse drive away. They looked at each other doubtfully. ‘She did ask us to go over,’ said Dottie. ‘I think we’d better get on with it, before we lose our nerve.’
‘But those other people are there. We can’t barge in when she’s got guests already.’ Sarah was annoyed with herself for feeling fluttery and unsure. She was supposed to be the firm and capable one, and here she was getting into a real state over paying her last respects to a neighbour. ‘Let’s leave it for half an hour.’
‘But Monica won’t mind us being there with other people,’ Dottie argued. ‘She made it sound rather like a little party, in her note. I expect there’ll be more arriving soon.’
‘Perhaps you’re right. It all feels very awkward, somehow. I mean what if that
man
turns up? I don’t think I could look him in the face.’
Dottie stared at her incredulously. ‘Isn’t it a bit late for that? Wasn’t it you who said we shouldn’t jump to conclusions? Assuming you mean the dentist, that is. Sarah, I wonder at you, I really do.’
‘Well, I’m sorry, but I feel uncomfortable going round there now. There are things being hushed up, and it feels all wrong to me.’
Dottie laid a stern hand on her friend’s arm, and looked her full in the face. ‘Now Sarah, we really can’t have this. I know you – you like everybody to think you’re so strong and sensible, but really you all too easily get yourself into a state. I heard you last night, pacing up and down. It isn’t good for a woman of your age. I don’t understand what you’re worrying about. Whether or not Monica’s been having a little fling doesn’t change the fact that Jim’s had a heart attack. Does it?’
‘Well, dear, it depends how you look at it,’ said Sarah. ‘It depends on your views about
responsibility. I’m not sure I can control my tongue, if he were to turn up.’
‘Sarah, this is nonsense. It isn’t our
business
. We’ve done everything we can by speaking to that young man. We can leave it all up to him now. If anything needs to be done, then he’ll be the person to do it.’
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ said Sarah, giving herself a little shake. ‘Well, the sooner we go, the sooner we can come home again, as my mother always used to say.’
‘That’s right,’ sighed Dottie. ‘Though why we should be in such a hurry to get home, I can’t imagine.’
Roxanne was weary by five o’clock. The emotional demands of dealing with Pauline’s grief had been compounded by a visit from a hysterical Lorraine, flying over her field that afternoon, only five minutes after Roxanne had dragged herself home from Pauline’s flat. The girl’s story was predictable, but none the less affecting for that. In the course of spilling it all out, Lorraine had scarcely paused from her own outpouring of self-pity to acknowledge the disaster of Craig’s death. The sense of the world collapsing all around them was increasing by the hour, and they sat in the caravan surveying the wreckage.
‘I shouldn’t have said what I did in the canteen,’ Roxanne admitted flatly. ‘I jumped to completely the wrong conclusion, and wasn’t thinking straight at all, with all the trouble over Craig. I should have kept my mouth shut.’
‘It wasn’t just you,’ Lorraine soothed. ‘Somebody said something in front of Frank at the pub on Saturday. He’d have worked it out sooner or later.’
‘I can help you,’ Roxanne offered, as a thought struck her. ‘We can
prove
the baby isn’t Jim’s.’
Lorraine blinked. ‘Oh yes, with blood tests, I suppose. But Frank won’t wait for any of that. He says I’ve got to abort it right away.’
‘No, no,’ Roxanne interrupted. ‘It can’t be Jim’s because he had a vasectomy years ago. Funny he never told you. I mean – how did you go on for contraception?’
Lorraine blushed. ‘I always put my cap in. After the first time, anyway. And we didn’t ever talk about it – not in proper words – you know?’
Roxanne smiled, seeing how it must have been. She could well understand how Jim wouldn’t have wanted to utter a word like
vasectomy
, with its clinical mechanical overtones. Quite a romantic, was Jim.
‘Look, why don’t we both go to Jim’s wake?’ she suggested suddenly. ‘We might as
well. Don’t you think we owe it to him to say a last goodbye?
And you could give me a lift
, she thought.
Otherwise I’ll have to get the bus, which wouldn’t be a very stylish entrance
.
Lorraine wiped her hand childishly across her eyes and stared at the older woman. ‘What?’ she said.
‘The Lapsfords’ house. Monica has got Jim there for the evening – and all night, I suppose – until the funeral tomorrow. So people can go and pay their final respects to him. I rather like the idea of you and me turning up together, don’t you?’
It was a pivotal moment for Lorraine. The instinctive recoil from the idea of coming face to face with her dead lover lasted only a few seconds, as she looked at Roxanne. She remembered that she had very little left to lose. She was going to need a large dose of courage from here on, whatever happened. Maybe this would teach her a useful lesson in how to be brave. ‘Do we dare?’ she wondered. ‘Does Monica know about us? Everything’s in such a mess, with David and Frank and now your sister’s boy. Won’t they refuse to let us in?’
‘We won’t know till we get there, will we?’ shrugged Roxanne. ‘But this is our last chance – I can’t see either of us turning up at the cremation.’
‘I was thinking about that,’ Lorraine admitted.
‘Well now you won’t need to. This is going to be much better.’
Lorraine began to smile. She visualised Jim’s two mistresses standing either side of the coffin, wishing him a tearful farewell. In the midst of her trouble with Frank, this felt like something she could do for herself, something that might make things better. A statement she could make, regardless of the consequences. ‘Yes!’ she gasped. ‘Why not?’
‘Come on then. You can drive.’ Roxanne pushed her feet into a pair of frayed leather sandals and reached for a packet of cigarettes.
They walked briskly across the field, saying nothing. But once in the car, conversation began to flow. ‘You’re divorced, aren’t you?’ Lorraine began, as soon as she’d turned the car round in the narrow lane. ‘What happened?’
Roxanne blew smoke out of the open car window, and put her head back against the head-rest. ‘He had too much money,’ she said.
Lorraine turned to stare at her. ‘You’re joking,’ she said. ‘Aren’t you?’
Roxanne shook her head lazily. ‘Nope. Every time I needed anything – wanted a new pair of jeans, or to go away for a few days, or get my car fixed – he insisted on paying. I had a job, which I put a lot of effort into. I
earned about a tenth of what he did, despite putting about six times the effort in. But it was impossible for me to feel I was
getting
anywhere. He just undermined everything I did. Do you understand?’
Lorraine frowned. ‘Not really. I mean – why did it matter which one paid for things?’
‘Apparently it did.’ Roxanne watched the town getting closer: the square church tower, the land sloping down to the river, the housing estate a bright red and grey scab on what she remembered as a grassy hillside. Even now she could feel the poisonous creeping sense of futility which had washed over her every time Lennie had smilingly waved his credit card and removed all purpose from her daily grind at the garden centre.
Lorraine made another attempt. ‘Well, I suppose it would be annoying. Like being a child. Never having proper responsibility. Is that what you mean?’
‘
Exactly
that,’ agreed Roxanne, exhaling another generous cloud of smoke. ‘And by the time I hit forty-five, I figured I ought to be allowed to grow up a bit.’
‘Didn’t you love him, though?’ Lorraine sensed the naivety of the question, but it seemed important to know.
‘Oh,
love
,’ Roxanne dismissed. ‘That’s
something else entirely. Love doesn’t last – not the way you mean. I was in love for six months when I was twenty. I’m lucky to have had that much. It was like being picked up and squeezed by a giant hand until I thought I would burst. After that, you don’t use the word if you can help it.’
‘I suppose not,’ Lorraine said, wonderingly. ‘But I know what you mean about money – sort of. Frank takes care of everything important. Except Cindy, of course. But he pays the bills and organises the holidays, and gets the car fixed. He’s a fantastically good manager. I’ve always told myself I was lucky. I never really thought of it in any other way.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m going to remember this day, aren’t I. Everything happens at once.’
‘Would it make any difference if Jim was still alive?’ Roxanne asked the question easily. ‘I mean – would
he
help you decide what to do next?’
Lorraine was silent, slowing the car unconsciously, to give herself time to think. ‘He wouldn’t have offered to leave his wife for me, I know that much,’ she finally replied. ‘And probably he’d have been scared stiff at what Frank might do to rock the boat. Actually, I suppose it would all have stopped anyway, once he knew I was pregnant.’
‘So in a way it isn’t such a disaster that he’s dead, after all.’
Lorraine gave a strangled yelp, half shocked, half amused. ‘You do say some awful things,’ she choked.
‘True, though. Look, it’s the same for all of us, when you think about it. Even Monica. You knew she had a chap on the side, didn’t you? We’re all in it together, one way or another.’
‘A chap?’ repeated Lorraine faintly. ‘No, I never knew that.’
‘Oh yes. Jim didn’t know though and I only found out last week. Everything was for the best, as it turns out. Nobody really has any cause for complaint. Except maybe your Frank. But real life never does work out as neatly as people like Frank – or Jim – wish it would.’
‘You sound as if you didn’t really like him. Wasn’t he—’ She interrupted herself as they reached a T-junction. ‘It’s left here, isn’t it? I’ve never been to his house before.’
‘Left, then second left again. Jim thought he could love everybody and be loved in return. He didn’t see the point of confining himself to one exclusive relationship. It suited me, most of the time. But I’ve been thinking since he died. I think he went too far, and now there’s just a trail of trouble and misery behind him. And bugger all to show for it.’
‘So why are we going to see him now?’ Again the car slowed, as Lorraine’s courage began to fail.
‘To tie up the loose ends. To be sure he’s really dead. Curiosity. Sentiment. Because it’s a chance to make a bit of mischief. Take your pick.’ Lorraine’s sigh brought her out of her bitter analysis. ‘Christ, sorry, love. But you did ask.’
‘That’s okay,’ muttered Lorraine. ‘What number is it? I think we’re there.’
‘Twenty-four. We’re here all right. Now, have a good blow, and keep your chin up. As you say, you’re going to remember this day for quite some time to come.’
It was impossible to discern from Monica’s expression whether she knew the nature of Jim’s relationship with either Roxanne or Lorraine. Jodie had let them in, and taken them into the living room without a word. ‘I hope you don’t mind—’ Lorraine began, but Roxanne interrupted her.
‘Good of you to let Jim’s old friends come along,’ she said, with a jarring heartiness. ‘I see we’re not the only ones.’ She looked hard at Jodie, and then Jack. ‘Hi,’ she greeted him. ‘Haven’t seen you for a while.’
‘You know each other?’ queried Monica,
scanning all the faces with a bemused expression. ‘Are you all from the King’s Head crowd?’
‘More or less,’ agreed Roxanne. ‘Everyone knew Jim, and most of us know each other, at least by sight. I’m Roxanne and this is Lorraine.’
Monica nodded. ‘I know you by sight. You’re the one in the caravan, aren’t you? But I’m afraid—’ she faltered, eyeing Lorraine doubtfully.
Jodie came to the rescue. ‘This is Mrs Dunlop,’ she said, with no further explanation.
‘Well, Jim’s here, as you can see. If you’d like to have a quiet minute with him, I’ll go into the kitchen. I was going to make more tea, anyway.’ Monica’s energy was being focused on maintaining her dignity; Jodie put an arm around her shoulders. ‘I’ll come with you,’ she said.
In the kitchen, Philip and David were sitting at the table, shoulders hunched, expressions fixed. ‘You look as if you’re in hiding,’ Jodie joked. ‘Probably wise. Stay out of the way, and let the women get on with it. There’ll be more yet, you see. Women seem to like dead people more than men do. Or maybe they’re just more accepting of death.’
‘Sarah and Dottie aren’t here yet,’ said Monica. ‘And what about Ajash?’
‘He’s not coming,’ said Jodie. ‘I meant to tell you. He said it would upset him too much. He
didn’t want to blub in front of everyone. He’s a real softie. That rather proves my point, I suppose.’
‘I thought his people went in for public weeping and wailing,’ said Philip. ‘He’s missing his chance.’
Jodie gave him a piercing look. ‘I think “his people” are from Solihull,’ she said tartly. ‘And probably wouldn’t know how to weep or wail if you paid them.’
‘Who’s that who just came?’ asked David, with minimal curiosity.
Jodie glanced at Monica with a little frown. ‘Just a couple of women from the pub. They probably drew the short straws, and are representing the whole gang. They seem pretty upset.’
‘It’s very kind of them,’ insisted Monica. ‘I wasn’t sure anyone would show up.’
‘Mum,’ said Philip, conveying worry and irritation and impatience in the single word.
‘Yes?’ she confronted him. ‘Mum, what?’
‘I just wish everyone would go away and leave us in peace to get on with it.’
‘They will,’ said Jodie, with bracing firmness. ‘The sooner we give them tea and cake, the sooner they’ll go.’ She filled the kettle and set it boiling.
* * *
The picture of Lorraine and Roxanne leaning over the coffin, not on opposite sides, as Lorraine had imagined, but shoulder to shoulder, in silent contemplation, brought a red hot anger to Jodie’s lips. Glancing back at the kitchen, she hissed viciously at them. ‘What do you think you two are
doing
?’ she demanded. ‘How do you have the
nerve
to do this?’