Helen was seated on the edge of her bed. Amy was doing her makeup. There was no talk. It was the morning of Daniel’s funeral. Helen had only decided to go the night before. Luckily, Amy had been able to find a last-minute flight to Edinburgh for them both. She took business-class seats.
Malcolm still refused to go. He lost his temper when Amy tried to argue with him, so she let him be. After Helen’s stress at hearing Malcolm’s raised voice, Amy had only managed to get her into bed at 2 am.
Amy had booked an early flight. She’d set her alarm for 5.30. After only two hours’ sleep, Helen had climbed out of bed. Amy was exhausted, but she climbed out of bed, too. She followed Helen downstairs to the kitchen and let her make a pot of tea for them both. Then they watched TV until Amy’s alarm went off.
Helen was listless. But they needed to go. Amy felt compelled to do Helen’s makeup, dress her and push her out the door.
Helen let her. Without a word.
In the Uber, as Amy stared out of the window at the waking London streets, Helen reached across the empty seat and took Amy’s hand in hers. When Amy turned to look at Helen, she found her face turned to the window. Helen held her hand all the way to the airport. Then they made their way through check-in. On the other side Amy forgot she’d paid business class and bought them each coffee and a pastry. After sitting at their gate for half an hour they boarded their flight.
Helen took hold of Amy’s hand as the plane lifted off the ground.
Amy could only think in short painful bursts. Even with Helen holding her hand, she’d never felt more alone. Helen and Malcolm’s grief was an impenetrable wall. And would remain so. She loved them both. Max had helped her see that. But did they love her back? Could they love her now?
She wanted to be there for Helen. She felt compelled to be there. She wanted to serve her in any way she could. She would stay close as long as she was needed. But this was all so new to her. This desire to serve. To love. To be loved. She felt exposed and fearful.
Amy hadn’t spoken to her own parents in over a year. The last time she’d spent extended time with them was the week after her graduation. Two days at their house in Kent. She had divorced them effectively. And it had been largely amicable. From time to time her father would email her his thoughts on the latest Jack Cade. Occasionally her mother would send photos of the two of them on some beach, or in New York. But these photos weren’t sent to Amy exactly, they were sent bcc. She never knew if her mother meant to send them to her or not. Nor could she begin to guess who the other recipients were.
Amy felt the tears on her cheek before she realised how sad it all was. She was flying with a woman she barely knew to bury that woman’s son. Helen said she and Daniel had only just reconciled. They’d spent twenty-five years estranged. Twenty-five years.
Amy had been estranged from her parents for almost as long. Since they sent her off to boarding school. Was her mother now clutching the hand of a stranger, too? Did she have regrets? Would she welcome Amy back? Did she want her to sleep beside her, to comfort her?
The plane landed in Edinburgh and the taxi took them down the bypass before heading back up to Morningside Cemetery. The driver had said it was quicker. Amy had no idea where she was, so said nothing.
Helen clutched Amy’s hand, holding it ever more tightly as they went.
The car drove along the east side of Braidburn Valley Park, and Helen said, pointing across the valley, ‘Daniel and Geraldine’s house is on the far hill there. I can’t recall which it is, we were never asked to visit. I’ve only ever seen photos. I used Google maps for the rest.’
‘Is that where the wake will be held?’
‘No, Geraldine’s parents’ house, which is up there somewhere, too. Probably the biggest one.’
‘They lived close by?’
‘Geraldine’s parents bought Geraldine and Daniel a house when they were married. They wanted to keep her close.’
‘Have you met her parents?’
‘At the wedding.’
Helen turned her head back to the window.
Soon the cab stopped and Amy paid the driver. They got out. Amy wasn’t sure where to go. She assumed the cemetery was on the other side of the high stone wall, but there was no obvious entrance.
Amy also assumed there would be a church attached to the cemetery. Being so isolated from her own family she hadn’t been to a funeral before. But that’s how it always was on television.
Helen placed her hand on the cold stone. ‘He’s my son. How did it come to this? Why is he being buried in Edinburgh? He should be with me. I’ll never see him again. They have him.’
‘Who has him?’
‘Geraldine’s family held a service for him this morning. In a church. He wasn’t a believer. He would never have asked for a religious ceremony. They’ve taken him from me.’
Amy had her phone out and was looking for an entrance.
‘Why didn’t we go to the service?’ she asked, absent-mindedly.
Helen didn’t answer her. She wanted to go home. She leant against the wall wearily as Amy concentrated on her screen.
‘There’s Geraldine,’ said Helen, gesturing towards a woman in black getting out of a black Mercedes. She was with her parents and the boys. They were some distance off. Geraldine’s parents glanced in Helen and Amy’s direction. Neither acknowledged them. The small party disappeared. Helen and Amy walked down to where the Mercedes was and saw the entrance to the cemetery.
More people arrived. Helen and Amy joined them. All followed Geraldine and her family, who seemed to know where they were going.
By the time the coffin was being lowered, thirty or so people were standing around the grave.
Helen recognised none of them, but assumed they knew who she was. Daniel had told anyone who would listen of his uncaring literary parents. Her picture had been in the papers since Daniel’s death. Now Helen was here without Malcolm. Which would confirm all the stories.
Prayers were said. Tears were shed. The sky was clear and blue. It was over.
Geraldine left the arm of her father, walked over to Helen and hugged her briefly. Helen followed the retreating boys with her eyes. No one else approached her. The mother of the deceased was a pariah.
Amy introduced herself to Geraldine.
‘You’re Amy?’ she said, surprised. ‘Why was Daniel sorry?’
‘What?’
‘The last message sent from Daniel’s phone was to you. It said, “I’m sorry”. What was he sorry for?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Who were you to him?’
Amy paused for a moment. She glanced quickly at Helen, who was examining Geraldine’s tear-streaked face. Amy hadn’t much liked the way Geraldine had spoken to her. She hadn’t liked the way no one had spoken to Helen, either. Geraldine’s parents hadn’t brought the boys to their grandmother. She didn’t much like the cemetery and what she’d seen of Edinburgh had depressed her. So she said, ‘I was his lover.’
The look on Geraldine’s face was worth the lie, Amy thought. It was a cruel thing to say and the wrong place to say it. Helen had gasped on hearing the words. But she thought Daniel deserved a tiny win. Geraldine had left him for another man. She’d taken a lover. Why not leave Geraldine with a different image of the man she’d betrayed?
‘I don’t understand,’ she said.
‘You wouldn’t.’
Geraldine walked off.
‘Why did you say that?’
‘Because I’ve been her.’
‘It was cruel and unnecessary.’
‘Much is.’
Amy watched Geraldine rejoin her parents. She must have told them because they all turned and looked back at Amy. She blew them a kiss.
‘She’s quite beautiful, isn’t she?’
‘Geraldine? Yes, she is.’
‘She’s much younger than I expected, too.’
Helen murmured assent. Then she placed her hand on Amy’s elbow.
‘You didn’t tell me Daniel messaged you.’
‘I didn’t know till now it was the last thing he sent.’
‘Can I see it?’
Amy took out her phone and found the message. She saw her reply – For what?
Helen held the phone and then kissed the screen.
‘I’m sorry, Daniel,’ she said. Helen handed the phone back, made her way closer to the grave and stood there a while by herself. The rest of the mourners were walking back to their cars.
Helen decided at the last minute not to attend the wake.
Amy messaged an Uber, which took them back to the airport. They had hours to wait. She found a place for Helen to sit, then went off to find an earlier flight home.
When she returned Helen was in tears. She led her to a more private spot.
They sat side by side, knees touching. Helen dried her eyes. When she was done, Amy reached out and took both Helen’s hands in her own.
‘I just don’t understand,’ said Helen. ‘His last message said, “I’m sorry”. That was the only note he left. I’m sorry. And he sent it to you but you don’t even know what that means. What could he be sorry for? What had he done to you?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Why didn’t he leave a longer note? Why didn’t he call me?’
‘I don’t know, Helen,’ said Amy.
‘Why message you? Why was he thinking of you?’ asked Helen, desperately.
Amy was shaking her head slowly. Tears were in her own eyes now.
‘Was it the last thing he did?’
She didn’t have answers for any of Helen’s questions. Nobody did. The full weight of Daniel’s death was crashing down upon her now. She could finally feel it.
‘Or were there hours between that message and his death? I need to know these things. I need to know,’ said Helen, holding Amy’s hands tightly in her own and looking at her with eyes glistening with tears. Her anguish was breaking Amy’s heart. She wanted so badly to offer her comfort but her brain wasn’t functioning as it should.
‘I don’t know why he messaged me. I’m so sorry, Helen. I wish I did.’
Helen was clearly disappointed.
Having just said she didn’t know, Amy spoke again. ‘Maybe he was worried he’d taken advantage of me. Maybe he was sorry that having just met me he was doing something so distressing.’
Helen’s eyes widened like a child’s, hungry for answers.
‘Did he mean to send it to Geraldine, not me?’ Amy continued. ‘Or maybe he did mean to send it to me and maybe I’m meant to convey the message to others. To tell everyone that Daniel’s sorry.’
Helen nodded slightly.
‘I think it has to be that. Don’t you think? He wanted everyone to know that he was sorry.’
Helen lifted Amy’s hands to her mouth and kissed her knuckles. Then she hugged her and sobbed as she hadn’t sobbed since Daniel’s death. She broke down completely, Amy crying and holding her tightly in return.
No one took much notice of the two women sobbing and holding each other. Tears in an airport are not as unusual as tears in Tesco.