Heart (29 page)

Any relief I felt when the song ended was short-lived as the minister then invited Jake’s mum up to the lectern. She was already crying and shaking but, stood next to her son’s coffin, any strength she may have had deserted her and she collapsed into a sobbing mess.

“He was my baby. My baby! He’d got his whole life in front of him.” Her hand reached out to touch the wooden box which separated them. Josh moved out of the pew, followed by Grace, and they tried to get her to stand. But she was desperately clinging to Jake. The minister helped them to raise her up and escort her back to the pew. Before she sat down, she looked directly at me.

“You. This is your fault. If he wasn’t so bloody obsessed with you, he’d never have been there. He’d never have fallen. He wouldn’t be dead.” She spat out the words with such venom I started to shake. Mum gripped my hand.

“Don’t. Not here. Think of Jake.” I wasn’t sure whether Mum was talking to me or Jake’s mum, but we both stayed silent and the moment passed. But I couldn’t stop the thought turning, twisting, spiralling inside my head.
Was it my fault
? The void I’d been skirting around became the room I was in, the air I breathed, the body I was struggling to keep control of.

As the rest of the congregation cried through
You Raise Me Up
, I willed the shaking to stop, but even with Mum and Cass anchoring me in the storm, I was still unable to calm myself.
Would he be alive if I hadn’t kissed him back on New Year’s Eve? Or if I hadn’t backed down and got in touch with him, desperate to be completed by him once more?

Deep down, the rational part of me knew the questions were pointless. We can’t live our lives based on what-ifs. However, in the emotional crucible of the crematorium, with Jake’s coffin in front of me and the hate-filled words of his mum still ringing in my ears, the rational part of me lost.

My chest heaving with panicky breaths, I tugged on Mum’s hand and pleaded with my eyes for her to save me from myself. She pulled me under her arm and took my hand, pulling my forefinger into a pointing position. In the same way she taught me to write my name when I was little, she guided my finger through writing an invisible message on my jeans-clad thigh:
You made Jake happier than I’ve ever known him to be. Don’t regret making him happy. Smile and wish him well. We all love you.

I stopped fighting the tears and let them flow. Huddled into Mum, I survived the rest of the service, even when the curtains closed around Jake’s coffin, taking him from me yet one more time.

As we made our way outside, Dad steered us away from Jake’s family, keeping me safe from another outburst, and we started to make our way back to the car.

“Neve, stop!” I turned, expecting to see Jake’s mum making her way toward me for round two, but instead found myself toe to toe with Grace. I braced myself for another tirade of abuse so was shocked when she leant in and hugged me.

“I can’t believe Mum said that. I’m so sorry. Jake loved you so much. I’m glad he got to know what love was and you gave him that. Please, don’t think badly of her; she’s upset. We all are.”

“Thank you, Grace… I don’t know what else to say.” There were no words which could make either of us feel better.

“I just didn’t want you to go thinking we hated you or something. We don’t. Well, I don’t,” she added with a wry tone. “Are you coming to the wake?” I looked at Mum and Flynn before replying.

“No, I don’t think that would be right. I don’t want to upset your mum any further. But some of us are meeting at the park tonight to have our own mini-wake. Do you and Josh want to come?”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea. We’re going there for about eight,” Flynn told her.

“I’ll see what Josh says. And what state Mum’s in. Take care.” With a final hug, Grace made her way back to her family, with more dignity than I could have managed in her position.

“Thanks for agreeing to that, Flynn. I feel so sorry for them.”

“I know. Poor kids. They’ll need a break from the house and that lot tonight. Come on.” We got into the car and pulled away. I didn’t look back; there was nothing I wanted to remember about it.

Although it was chilly, the evening air was dry as we threw down the picnic blankets Mum had packed for us. Several of Flynn’s and Jake’s mates had arrived at our house, carrying six-packs of beer, only for Mum to decide to make the whole affair a bit more classy. She had put some plastic tumblers, the picnic blankets and a few tea-lights into a bag, along with some snacks. Flynn had said nothing but given her a huge kiss, which got his mates whooping and cheering. That tone had been maintained as we walked to the park, laughing and joking, mainly at each other’s expense.

Bryn, one of the lads I could name, plugged his phone into a portable speaker and Arctic Monkeys provided a soundtrack to the conversations taking place. Cass and I lay together on one of the rugs, chatting about the day and imagining how the wake, which had been held at a local bikers’ pub, would have gone. As it got darker, Flynn lit the tea-lights and placed them around us, bathing us all in a softly-glowing circle before standing in its centre.

“So, we all know why we’re here… to pay our respects and to share our memories of the wonderful person that Jake was.” His voice crumbled ever so slightly on the need for the past tense, but he regained his composure and continued. “Jake meant something different to each of us here and, especially after today,” he said, looking directly at me in particular, “we should spend some time enjoying the fact that we were lucky to know him. Or, in my case, he was lucky to know me!” Flynn’s joke, crap as it was, helped to keep the tone from getting maudlin and one of the guys stood up.

“Okay, as many of you are aware, Jake and I have had a few fights over the years.” The laughs from the others suggested there had been more than a few. “But, despite that, I loved the cheeky fucker. How many of you can remember the day we took the blow-up doll into school? I thought Jake was going to have a heart attack, blowing the thing up in the boys’ bogs. And then, when it was finally ready, none of us had the guts to take it out. Whilst we’re arguing over what to do with it, in walks Mr Potter so Jake grabs the doll and squeezes himself into a cubicle with it. Her. Potter makes the rest of us go to lessons and Jake is left there. Does
anyone
know what actually happened to that doll? All I know is that he gets to maths, apologises for being late, and refuses to talk about it ever again!” As the lads offered a series of crude suggestions as to what Jake did to the doll, one of them coughed and threw a look in my direction. A wave of apologies followed but I laughed them off. This was what I needed: reminders of the real Jake, not a wooden box and shitty flowers.

A couple more guys stood and shared a funny story which again ended with Jake getting into trouble. When they finished, I notice Josh and Grace had arrived and were stood, unsure, at the edge of the park.

“Come on, guys! Sit over here.” I beckoned them with a wave and a smile, glad they would be able to listen to some of these stories.

“Umm, do we need to keep it PG now?” Bryn asked.

“Nah, but maybe keep the really X-rated stuff for another day,” Flynn replied, offering the newcomers a drink. “Who’s up next?”

The lads kept us entertained with tales of their past escapades. Maybe some were exaggerated for dramatic purposes, but I didn’t care. The night was turning Jake into a god. Immortal. It felt right, especially as Josh’s face was filled with pride in this amazing older brother he had never fully known. Would never fully know.

As some of the tea-lights burned out, I felt the compulsion to take the centre of the circle. Bryn lowered the volume on the speaker and Cass threw me a proud smile.

“I don’t have the funny stories you guys have, but I’m so glad you have shared them tonight. I knew how lucky I was to have Jake in my life, but now I know I’m not the only one. We are all so lucky to have known him.” I smiled at Josh and Grace. “All of these memories, the serious ones as well as the funny ones, mean he won’t be forgotten. He will live within each of us, reminding us of what it means to be a good friend, brother, boyfriend. Jake wouldn’t want us to be sad; he would want us to live our lives and be happy. So, take each of these special moments and store them in your hearts. Be happy to have known Jake. Be happy to have loved Jake.
Be happy
.” I knew the words needed to be heard by me as much as those around me.
Could I be happy again?

“Everyone got a drink?” Flynn took over, deflecting attention from me. “So, let’s raise a glass to Jake. One of the best people this world has ever seen and someone we’re all glad to have had in our lives. To Jake.” We all held our bottles aloft and toasted the stars.

To Jake.

Healing happens one stored memory at a time. It can’t be counted in days, months, years even, but in doing things which mean you have preserved something of what was, in such a way that you can cope with taking it out and looking at it again, without falling apart. It’s about gradually adding weight to the other side of the seesaw; at some point, your feet can touch the ground again. You start to believe that one day you might just regain the sense of balance you lost with the person you loved. That’s how I see it, anyway, and what drove me to want a way to carry Jake with me wherever I went.

With Cass holding my hand, I walked through the door of Shakespeare Ink. Before my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the reception area, I was hit by the smell. I don’t know if I was expecting the place to smell of something which evoked greasy rockers, but it was nothing like that. The air was filled with the reassuring odour of antiseptic. This, combined with the sound of machines buzzing somewhere down the corridor, made the feeling more like being at the dentist. Except the guy manning the reception desk was nothing like the high-pitched bimbos who fronted my dentist’s office: his arms were covered in brightly-inked sleeves and his face was hidden behind a full beard. He mouthed hello and waved us into the waiting area whilst he continued with a phone call. Listening to him chat with the caller, I wasn’t sure if he was discussing piercings or tattoos; the language and environment belonged to an unknown world, yet it was one which had the power to bring me closer to Jake.

The waiting area was also nothing like being at the dentist. Two old, leather sofas were the only place to sit, but the walls made sitting seem like a waste of time. The room was a gallery, hung with framed images of inked body parts. One was a whole body, entirely covered in a kaleidoscope of tribal swirls and patterns; another showed an inked man holding his small baby, revelling in its pure skin contrasting against his own. Looking at the photos, I smiled. I knew Jake would have liked this display of creative beauty; he appreciated anything where somebody put their heart and soul into making something beautiful. Like he did with his gardening. He had probably even stood on this same spot, admiring these same images. I closed my eyes and focused on the moment, as though I could somehow absorb any lingering trace of him through the soles of my feet.
Jake
.

“Sorry about that, hun” the bearded guy said, forcing me back to the here and now. “How can I help?”

“I’ve got an appointment. At two. With Dave. I’m Neve. For a tattoo.” Oh, yeah, I was completely at ease. Cass smiled at him in response to my wittering.

“Hi, I’m Cass. I rang and made the appointment.” She leaned over and shook the hand he proffered, as though this was the sort of place she always hung about in. It was true, though; I had asked her to ring them up as I hadn’t trusted myself to make the call without crying.

“Cool. I’m Dave.” He smiled warmly at me. “So, this myrtle, I’ve got a couple of designs to show you. Pick which one you prefer and I’ll make up a stencil. Here you go.” He laid three pages of sketched images on the table in front of us. For some reason, I was drawn to one of them, even though it was the simplest of the designs: a curved sprig of two intertwined stems of myrtle, dotted with its delicate flowers.

“That’s the one.” His raised eyebrow confused me. “What? Won’t that look good?”