Authors: Mairi Wilson
“Oh,
Lexy
. Yes, your mother. I know. Ursula talks … talked about you all the time.”
“She did?”
“Well, no. But a lot. Enough.” The stranger rubbed her shin. “Jeepers, that hurt. What’s in that case – concrete?”
“I … Just some … Sorry, who did you say you were?”
“Jenny. I’ll make tea, shall I? I’ve brought the milk.” She vanished into the kitchen. Lexy heard a bag clunk onto the worktop, then running water and the clatter of a kettle lid before the woman reappeared, shrugging off her jacket. “Or there’s coffee. Not that she drank it herself, but you know how she was. Kept it for visitors. Rare enough those, though, these days.” The jacket was flung onto a coat hook and Jenny disappeared into the kitchen again. “So what’s it to be?” she called over clinking crockery, clearly at home in Ursula’s kitchen and leaving Lexy feeling wrong-footed. It would have been nice to know someone else had a key.
“Tea. Tea’s fine, thanks.” Lexy followed her into the kitchen and sat down at the table, relaxing a little when Jenny produced a packet of biscuits. No one armed with chocolate-chip cookies could mean any harm.
“May I? Haven’t eaten.” Lexy was already opening them.
“Oh, but there’s plenty of food in the cupboards, yet. And the freezer. Did you not look?”
Lexy shook her head. “Too tired,” she explained between bites. “Fell asleep.” Watching Jenny bustle around the kitchen, Lexy realised they were closer in age than she’d thought, first impressions thrown off-kilter by speech tics and mannerisms she associated with an older generation.
“Well, you
will
be needing to look at this lot, Lexy.” The pile of post slapped down on the table. “Not opened anything, of course, although I’d usually read everything for her. Almost blind she was at the end there, with the cataracts. Told her she should pull a few strings, what with her background, get herself moved up that waiting list, but she’d have none of it. She always was a stickler for the rules, wasn’t she?”
“I don’t … I couldn’t really say.” Jenny probably meant well, and maybe Ursula had been glad of the chatter, but Lexy found it irritating and wished she could think of a polite way to get the woman to stop. Or at least slow down a bit.
“Well, you’d not seen her for a good long while, though, had you,” Jenny was saying, “nor had your mother neither.” Jenny’s sniff was eloquent disapproval. “But she was, you know, a great one for rules. And standards. Oh yes, even at her age she’d not let anything slide. ‘Slippery slope, Jenny,’ she’d say, ‘slippery slope …’ ”
The barrage slowed and Lexy took her chance.
“Look, I arrived last night. The solicitor gave me the key. I didn’t know about you or—”
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Jenny was revved up and racing away again. “I’ve been half-expecting someone ever since … the accident. Thought it’d be your mother, though, as she’d been planning … Is she coming later, then, Isobel?”
“No.”
“Really? Well.” Another sniff. “I know they’d had their differences … but all the same, this was your mother’s
home
, and now they were speaking again … Still, her business, I suppose.”
“My mother … she’s …” Jenny’s words caught up with Lexy. “They
spoke
?”
“Of course they did. Closest thing to mother and daughter, weren’t they now, and wouldn’t you call your mother sometimes even if you did have a wee fall-out now and then?” Jenny reached down for a biscuit and crammed it whole into her mouth, giving Lexy a few precious seconds to try to work out what she was hearing.
“But … when? What did … My mother never said …”
Jenny brushed crumbs from her chest, swallowed, then carried on as if Lexy hadn’t spoken as she poured freshly boiled water into the teapot. “I always knew when your mother’d phoned. Ursula was brighter, sharper, you know, and when Isobel said she’d visit—”
“What?”
“Beside herself, she was. Years since she’d seen her, she said. She hoped Izzie’d bring you, too, let her see the woman you’d become for real, not just in photos.”
“Photos?”
“She kept them all. Boxes of them there in the press by the fireplace. We’d go through them on a rainy—”
“My mother sent photos?” Lexy lowered her biscuit. “And she was coming here? When …
Why?
”
“Well, you’ll have to ask her that, won’t you now, Lexy? But surely she’s told you? It was to be next week, after all. It’s there on the calendar.” Jenny waved in the direction of the wall beside the door with one hand as she passed Lexy her tea with the other. Three days were circled in thick blue ink. “Which is why,” Jenny continued, cradling her own steaming mug and sliding into the bench opposite Lexy, “I thought you’d be her. Ursula had me spring-clean the guest room and I’ve been keeping it aired and fresh ever since. Then you go and sleep in the
other
—”
“Jenny.” Lexy, out of patience, cut across the other woman’s prattle. “Jenny, my mother’s dead.”
After Jenny had gone, Lexy wandered around the flat, listening to the carriage clock ticking away the seconds until she had to leave to get to her appointment with Ursula’s solicitor. She’d showered and changed her clothes, even put on some make-up for the first time since her mother’s funeral. But still time yawned ahead of her.
She couldn’t settle. This was Ursula’s flat, not hers, whatever the lawyers might say, and it didn’t feel right being there alone. As if she were trespassing in a life she had no right to explore. But she’d have to eventually. She’d have to empty the flat to sell it, go through Ursula’s possessions, dismantle her life. Jenny had offered to help as she was leaving, but Lexy had been reticent, politely non-committal, not sure why, except perhaps she couldn’t face the endless chatter that would come with the assistance. Jenny’s questions, judgements; Lexy’s own doubts.
Because now that she was alone, really alone, Lexy’s certainties had abandoned her. She was in limbo, drifting, waiting, poised between one version of herself and another. Between child and adult. Between daughter and orphan, fiancée and single woman.
As if on cue, her mobile started beeping again. She pulled it from her bag. Incoming call this time. Danny’s name lit up the screen. Guilt and avoidance tussled, but guilt got the upper hand.
“Lexy? Where the heck are you? I’ve been round to the flat and you weren’t there. Mrs B said you’d gone out early yesterday but hadn’t come back. When you didn’t show up at the crematorium, I was really worried.”
“I’m fine, Danny. I’m in Edinburgh.”
“Edinburgh? What the blazes are you doing there? And why didn’t you answer my calls if you’re fine?”
“Sorry, Danny. I didn’t want to talk.”
“But we were going to collect the ashes for heaven’s sake. Your
mother’s
—”
“Yes. I know.” The righteous indignation in his voice was irritating, but she deserved it. “I’m sorry. I … was just …” She gave up. There was no excuse so no point in pretending there was. “Did you get them?”
“Yes.”
“Where are they?”
“Here. On my desk – and I’ve got a tutorial starting in ten minutes.”
Despite the circumstances, Lexy had to smile at that. At the thought of Danny, junior lecturer with professorial pretensions, conducting a tutorial with his might-have-been mother-in-law’s ashes standing watch.
“Sorry, Dan. Can you keep them for me? I’ll be back at the weekend and we can—”
“
No.
No, okay?
We
can’t anything. I’ve got plans. We were supposed to do this yesterday. I’d cleared my diary for the afternoon to do this with you.
For
you. The least you could have done is show up.”
“I know, Danny. I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying sorry, will you? Or at least try to sound as if you mean it.” Huffy, now, that note of childish petulance she hated. But, again, she deserved it.
“Dan, I don’t know why I didn’t call you, or answer your calls, or … I … Look, something came up.”
“Something came up?” Lexy was no musician, but Danny’s voice rose what sounded like a full octave. “What could possibly come up that would be more important than your mother’s ashes? Oh, you know what? Don’t answer that. I’m done. I’ve tried to support you through this, Lexy, I really have. I know you’ve got no one else really, and you’re useless at asking for help anyway. But we’re not engaged any more. I’ve got Fizz to think about now and she’s been great about me spending all this time with you, but I won’t let her down by cancelling this weekend. It’s important. We’re going to her parents’.”
“Oh my, meeting the parents? She’s taking you seriously, then.” Lexy’s attempt at light-heartedness sounded snide, even to her.
“It’s complicated. She’s … I mean … we’re …” Danny cleared his throat, and something in his awkwardness told Lexy what he couldn’t.
“She’s pregnant.” It was a statement, not a question. “Wow, that was quick.”
“Yes.” She heard him sigh, knew he’d be frowning. “I was going to tell you before, but then with your mother and everything …”
“Of course. I understand. I mean, great … Congratulations. I mean, it is, isn’t it? Congratulations? You always said you wanted kids.”
“I … well … I suppose so, yes. Yes, of course. But look, that’s not the point. The point is, Lexy, I can’t come with you to do the ashes thing, and I don’t really want them in my office. It’s a bit gruesome, frankly, and I can’t take them to Fizz’s. So what do you want me to do with them?”
Lexy could picture him there in his office, on the phone, looking awkward and earnest. He was a good man. Kind. But kindness wouldn’t have sustained a relationship, a marriage, even if he hadn’t been sleeping with one of the department’s postgrads. But they’d been beyond salvaging even before—
“Lexy, come
on
! What do you want me to do with her? It.
Them.
Lexy!” His exasperation had developed an edge of panic. Students gathering in the corridor, no doubt.
“Could you drop them round to the flat for me?”
“I don’t have a key, remember? You made me—”
“No, I mean could you leave them with Mrs B?”
“Lexy, she’ll freak. You know what she’s like. Or that malodorous cat of hers’ll knock the urn over or pee in it or something.” Lexy tried to stifle a giggle, but Danny heard. “Lexy! I’m serious.” Didn’t she know it. He always was. But that wasn’t for her to say any more.
“Sorry. It’s all just a bit surreal. Look, I really appreciate what you’ve done for me. You’ve been great. I couldn’t have got through all this without you. I mean it. Thanks, Danny.”
“Lexy …” Danny paused and she steeled herself. “Look, Lexy, it’s probably not the time and I know things haven’t always worked between us, but—”
“Don’t, please.” Lexy knew where this line of conversation would go if she let it. When he’d turned up at the hospital he’d said no strings, but she’d been on her guard all the same. And she wasn’t sure a pregnant Fizz really changed anything. “Danny, thanks. You’ve been such a good friend to me through all this,” she said, picking her words but wincing at the pain she knew they’d cause.
“Not sure I can keep doing that, Lexy.” She heard the crack in his voice. “Being your friend.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Dan.” And she was. Really sorry. She’d miss him. She couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so alone.
“Lexy …” She could hear him breathing unevenly in the distance between them. Couldn’t bear it.
“Look, Danny, how about you put the whole thing in a box? Tape it up to deter smelly cats and nervous neighbours? Tell Mrs B it’s just books or something. Could you do that?”
“Sure,” he said after a pause, coughing sharply as he cleared his throat. “Fine. Matter of fact, I do still have one or two books and bits of yours. I’ll stick those in too and drop it all round later this evening.”
“Great. Thanks, Danny.” Now was the time for one of them to say goodbye, but the silence still held them together.
“So,” Lexy said gently to break it. “A baby, eh?”
“Yeah.” She could hear a tiny flicker of excitement creep into his voice. “Yeah. A baby.”
She slowly pressed the disconnect button, laid the phone down on the table and stood staring out over the Meadows, arms hugging her chest, not moving until it was finally time to leave.
Two deaths, two inheritances and two solicitor’s offices in as many weeks, although this city firm was very different to the dusty suburban practice Lexy’s mother had chosen to use. Lexy perched on the edge of a low-slung leather and steel sofa and looked around her, seeing nothing to lighten her mood. There was none of the comforting chaos of a small family partnership here. Bland Scandinavian-style office furniture which even Lexy knew wasn’t IKEA conspired with the burr of discreet phones to create a sense of detachment and distance from the messy business of real life. Behind a desk that looked like it had been designed at NASA, a blonde receptionist with frosty-pink lipstick, a dentally enhanced smile and narrowed green eyes kept vigil. Her sleek perfection made Lexy reach up a hand to smooth her own tumble of curls, though she knew it would make very little difference.
A triptych of commissioned art dominated the wall opposite and Lexy squinted to read the small white panel beside it. It was by an artist she’d never heard of, although no doubt the unpronounceable name was at the leading edge, the very vanguard, of the Next Big Thing.
The Vigilance of Justice, Humanity and Integrity
. Impressive title, but it did nothing to improve Lexy’s opinion of the artwork. Childlike naivety was the kindest she could come up with. On balance, she preferred the National Farmers’ Union calendar and the Turner prints randomly displayed on the scuffed walls at her mother’s Smith & Littlejohn.
“Miss Shaw?” Frosty lips were moving. “She’ll see you now.”
She. That was different too.
The receptionist indicated a glass wall to the right of her flight deck. As Lexy approached it, a buzzer sounded and one of the panels swung open.
“Straight through please, Miss Shaw, and the conference room is the first on your left. Ms Hamilton will join you there. I’ve ordered coffee for you.”