Chapter 83: Richard Schormann

Ashford: Saturday, October 25th

Richard didn’t want Karen to touch him. If she did he’d begin crying again.

So she’d wrapped her arms around her knees, her feet up on the seat of the bench, waiting for the harsh, painful gulps to end. And he was grateful for that.

The park was empty. The canoes, their paint faded and flaking, lay sideways on the grass. Under the surface of the grey water of the lake he could see a random pattern of trailing weeds.

He blew his nose, embarrassed that she’d been a witness to his breakdown. ‘I’m sorry.’ He dropped his head, looked sideways at her.

‘Don’t be daft.’

‘I’ve tried so hard not to cry in front of Mum. After that first time, you know? She’s being so strong.’

Karen nodded, her chin on her knees.

Her silent understanding was comforting.

‘I watched her face when we went to see Dad. It was like…’ He stopped, thinking about the moment when they’d stood next to the trolley his father lay on. ‘It was like something in her had died as well. There was no movement in her face, in her eyes. She was so still.’ The tears came again. He drew in air. ‘And then she just went down – she collapsed. So quickly we couldn’t catch her.’ He held his palms over his face. ‘She wasn’t hurt, but it was ages before she came round properly. I think she just didn’t want to. I heard her tell Auntie Ellen last night that it was like if she didn’t open her eyes it would all go away.’

Karen shuffled across the bench to him and rested her hand on his leg.

‘It’s the thought of them having to do a post-mortem that’s getting to me.’

She winced.

‘Sorry,’ he said again.

He was so glad she was with him. He hadn’t told her about the guilt he’d carried around. Settling down at the university, finding his way around the myriad of seminar and classrooms and sorting out his lectures, timetable, room had taken up so much of his time over the last week. And when he did stop his mind had been so full of worry about George Shuttleworth that not once had he wondered how his parents were. As always he’d taken them for granted, even knowing about his father’s ill-health.

He put his arm around her. ‘We’re going back to Wales as soon as it’s done and we can take him home. I’ve been given a fortnight’s compassionate leave from the university. I want you to come with me…’ He felt her nod. ‘I don’t want you here, on your own,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you here with Shuttleworth around.’

‘I don’t think he’ll come near.’

‘I’d rather not take the chance.’

A black-and-white terrier ran past them. They watched it disappear into some bushes, yelping loudly, and then back out, crouched down on its front legs. Seconds later, a cat shot out and ran straight up a nearby tree. The dog danced around at the base of the tree, barking.

A large man ran towards them, red-faced and panting. ‘Bloody stupid mutt,’ he gasped, fastening its lead and dragging it to the bench so he could sit down. Richard saw his face change when he looked at him. ‘Sorry, mate,’ the man said, ‘am I in the way?’

Richard managed a smile, ‘It’s okay. We have to be going anyway.’

‘Let me guess,’ The man grinned, ‘Welsh? And summat else?’ He stopped, as though noticing for the first time the hearing aids and looked uncomfortable. ‘Sorry,’ he said again.

It was a reaction Richard was used to and, right now, didn’t need. It was a reminder of the hurdle he would need to get over each time he met someone new – that he’d always be seen as someone to be pitied. He clenched his jaw; he would never quite fill his father’s shoes. Stupid, he knew, but he’d lived with the thought for so long it was automatic. And now his dad wasn’t here anymore to reassure him, to brush his worries away. To say, ‘We stand in our own shoes, son. Life, it is what we make of it.’ As he had said so many times in the past.

Richard fought down a sob. ‘Have to go,’ he said.

Walking back to Henshaw Street, he linked fingers with Karen.

She swung around, walking backwards in front of him. ‘I’ll go in and ask at college tomorrow, cariad,’ she said.

The Welsh endearment brought a small smile to his lips. He pulled her to him. Ignoring the people who passed by, they kissed.

‘Mmm,’ Richards gave her a hug and a quick last kiss on the nose and leaned back, gazing into her eyes. She smiled but he saw the apprehension in her eyes. ‘What is it?’ he said quietly.

‘What will you do?’

‘What about?’

‘University?’

‘I don’t know. Perhaps I should apply to one of the Welsh universities and an affiliation to Pont-y-Haven hospital. It’s what Dad wanted.’

‘Your dad accepted you going to Manchester.’

‘I know. But now…’ He lifted his shoulders. ‘With Mum. She’s only got me.’

‘And your sister,’ Karen reminded him.

‘Yeah, well. Who knows what Vicky’s going to do, isn’t it?’

‘I think, when it’s all over,’ she smoothed his hair back from his face and gave him another kiss, ‘you need to talk to your mum. From the few times I’ve seen her, I think she’ll want you to do what you want.’