Dan got up early on the day of his wife’s funeral. He didn’t know why, because the funeral wasn’t until midday and he wasn’t going to his allotment beforehand, but he couldn’t bear to lie in bed, had to be moving, doing things.
With a mug of tea in his hand, he walked slowly round the house, once again looking at the photos of his life with Peggy. They’d been a great comfort since the real Peggy had faded away. Some of the later ones brought tears to his eyes because the changes in her were starting to show, a slight bewilderment as if she wasn’t quite sure what was going on, a distant look instead of her former loving gaze.
His son Terry and his wife were coming over from Reading for the funeral, but their children were at university in the north and they’d decided it wasn’t worth coming down just for the one day.
He thought that wrong, but you couldn’t tell this generation anything. He’d have liked to have them all gathered round him out of respect to Peggy and to show that something of her lived on in them and the generations to follow. That was such a comforting thought.
Simon and his wife were bringing their two daughters, though. He didn’t see much of the girls, but they were a nice enough pair of lasses. Today’s teenagers seemed to care much more about friends than family. It wasn’t just him they steered clear of. They didn’t ‘hang out’, as they called it, with their parents, either.
When the doorbell rang, he found he had a mug half full of cold tea in one hand. How long had he been holding that?
Putting it down on the nearest surface he opened the door to Terry and Karen, glancing at the wall clock. ‘Is it that time already? Come in, come in. Why don’t you make yourselves a cup of something while I change into my suit?’
He joined them in the kitchen, where they were sipping cups of coffee. Terry gave him a searching scrutiny. ‘You all right, Dad?’
‘Yes, son.’
‘What will you do with yourself now?’
‘What I’ve been doing for the past year or so: spend my days at the allotment, there’s always something going on there, someone to talk to. In the evenings I watch TV or read a book.’
‘Might it not be better if you found yourself a retirement unit, so that you could be with people, somewhere that’s monitored in case you have trouble?’
Dan shook his head. ‘No! I like my own home.’
‘But the rest of us worry about you and—’
His irritation with their insistence that he should move overflowed, because this day of all days was not the time to nag him. ‘Why does your generation always want to hide us oldies away in little compounds? Does the sight of wrinkled faces upset you? When I was growing up, everyone lived together, young and old, and it was a far more interesting way of life for everyone.
‘My family lived in Peppercorn Street then, but it was a rented house and when the owner wanted to live there himself, we had to move. The street’s changed but it’s still a nice place to live. They knocked that house down years ago and built some big new houses, the sort yuppies live in. That part of the street is not only deserted in the daytime now, but people shut themselves up indoors in the evenings. I walk along it sometimes on sunny summer evenings and you never see the owners chatting over the garden fences or out in the street. What would someone there do if they needed help? You could scream yourself hoarse and no one would hear you behind all that double glazing.’
He realised his son wasn’t really listening, had that glazed look in his eyes that said he was bored. You could never talk to Terry about the past, only about money and his job. He waited and his son realised he’d stopped speaking.
‘Dad, if people in those houses were living on their own, they’d get one of those pendants that’s a security alarm, then they could easily call for help.’ Terry’s voice grew a little sharper as he added, ‘As I’ve begged you to do. At least you could do that to set my mind at rest.
‘Gadgets! You’re always on about gadgets. Electronic thingamajigs don’t pick you up when you fall over on an icy day, or help you with your shopping or comfort you when you’re sad. Give me real people any day. I can call on my neighbours round here, day or night. Look out of the window. In every single house you can see, there’s someone who’d come over and help me if I asked.’
He saw Terry open his mouth again and wondered why he was bothering. ‘Leave it be, son. You’ve said your piece and I’ve said mine. I’m an adult, not a child to be looked after and told what to do. I’ll make my own decisions.’
Karen nudged her husband and made a shushing noise, then moved forward. ‘Let me straighten your tie, Dad.’
‘Thanks.’ He couldn’t resist adding, ‘You’d not get a machine to do this, either. Peggy always used to do it for me. I’ve never been good at ties. I hate wearing the damned things. She used to laugh at me for that.’ His voice broke on the last words and he had to swallow hard or he’d have disgraced himself.
Terry sighed loudly and looked at his watch. ‘Well, shall we be going?’
As he went to lock the back door Dan paused for a moment, bracing himself for the ordeal to come, then followed his son out the front way. This time he’d go in someone else’s car, because he was more upset than he was letting on and knew he wasn’t fit to drive. It was his Peggy he was saying goodbye to today, his lovely darling Peggy, and it hurt like hell. He’d always hoped he’d be the one to go first.
At the crematorium Simon and his family were waiting. The girls came forward to give him a hug, looking so apprehensive he pulled them back and said in a low voice, ‘It’s only saying goodbye to your Gran, you know. Nothing to be afraid of.’ But it was their first funeral and they still looked wide-eyed and nervous.
After that everyone stood in silence in the reception area and waited for the hearse to arrive.
It seemed a long time to Dan, but when it came into sight he glanced at his watch and saw that they’d only been there for a few minutes and the hearse was spot on time. He’d always said time was as stretchable as elastic. It pulled out a long way when you were bored and pinged quickly past when you were enjoying yourself.
He studied the fancy flower arrangements from his sons perched on each end of the coffin. His own offering was in the middle, a bunch of scented narcissi, just a simple bunch not a tortured arrangement. His local florist said they came from the Scilly Isles. Peggy had loved their beauty and perfume at this time of year when no flowers were in bloom at his allotment.
‘You always used to buy Mum narcissi like those around now, didn’t you?’ Simon whispered.
Dan nodded because he didn’t trust his voice.
The men from the funeral directors slid out the coffin and wheeled it slowly into the crematorium. Dan moved forward to follow it, but stumbled. His granddaughters were nearest and they grabbed him, then held on to his arms from either side. He didn’t know if they were helping him or he was helping them, but it felt so much better to have them beside him. Today, at least, they were hanging around with their family.
Terry’s children should have come. He was still upset about that.
The service was very simple. He wished there hadn’t been any words, just a chance to sit beside the coffin and be with her for a final time, but you had to do what people expected on these formal occasions. He let his mind wander, stood up when the others did and sat there quietly as the minister made a little speech, a tactful, gentle consignment of Peggy’s soul to God. He was glad this woman was taking the service, not that snob from the other church.
To his surprise Simon moved forward after that.
‘I’d just like to say goodbye to Mum on behalf of myself, Cath and the girls. We hope you’re at rest now, Mum.’
Terry shook his head when the minister looked at him enquiringly. She turned to look at Dan, who moved forward, feeling he had to do this.
‘As you all know, in one sense we said goodbye to the real Peggy a while ago, but today we’re letting the rest of her go, too. I’m sure she’ll be at peace in a better place now. She was a wonderful woman. I couldn’t have asked for a better, more loving wife and I know how deeply she cared about all of you.’ He turned towards the coffin and added, ‘Goodbye, my darling.’ His voice broke on the last words and he fumbled for his handkerchief.
As he moved back to his place, he wiped away the tears and settled his glasses back on his nose. Simon nodded at him, also with over-bright eyes, and his granddaughters were clutching tissues.
And then it was over. Thank goodness! He didn’t know whether he’d said that aloud or not, hoped he hadn’t. The curtains drew slowly round the coffin – too slowly for him! – soft music played and they were free to leave.
As he’d planned, he went to wait in the area where they set out the flowers afterwards. There were wilting bouquets lying around on a low wall that formed a sort of shelf. When he picked up his own bouquet again, his family looked surprised but he didn’t care. He’d press one of the flowers to remind him of her, and he’d keep the others until they were completely dead. It’d be the last contact he had with her.
Till they met again.
He spoke to friends, thanked them for attending and invited them to come to the pub, where Simon had helped him book a buffet meal and drinks.
As they got into the car it began to rain. That felt right, somehow.
He leant his head back with a sigh, grateful when none of his family said anything. He didn’t really want to go to the pub, but it was another of the rituals you had to go through.
It went better than he’d expected, though. People came up to speak to him. He was pleased at how many of Peggy’s old friends had come, those still alive. They spoke of her as she used to be and he found that easier to cope with than enquiries about her progress.
In the end, however, he was so exhausted he had to ask Simon to take him home.
‘I’ve had enough, son,’ he said simply.
‘You look dreadful.’
‘Well, I doubt I’ll get any better by staying here.’
When they got to his house, Simon insisted on coming inside. ‘Dad, we’re all worried about you, so just to make us feel better, would you please use this?’ He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a mobile phone.
It was the last thing Dan had expected. He stared at it then at his son’s anxious face. ‘For you, then, but I’m not leaving it switched on all the time.’
‘It’s for the opposite reason, really. In case you need to call for help.’ He grinned. ‘We know you’ll not leave it switched on.’ The smile faded. ‘And we’ll be very glad if you never need to use it.’
‘All right, then. Show me how it works.’
‘You’re tired. Now isn’t a good time.’
‘We can make a start, go through the basics. It’ll take my mind off … things.’
So he had a lesson in using one of the damned contraptions he hated. But if he didn’t have to leave it on, if it was just for emergencies, well, he wasn’t getting any younger. You have to be sensible about these things.
And if nothing else, it was a symbol of how much Simon cared about him. That felt good.
Janey went for a walk past the allotments, but though she stood by the gate and stared, there was no sign at all of Mr Shackleton. A man working on a plot further down looked across at her and came close enough to yell, ‘If you’re looking for Dan, his wife’s died. The funeral’s today.’
‘Thanks for letting me know.’ She turned and wheeled Millie slowly round the park. Poor Mr Shackleton! How awful to lose your lifelong partner like that. But at least he’d had a partner. She’d never even had a steady boyfriend, thanks to her parents’ restrictions on her comings and goings, only a brutal rapist.
When she got home she saw Kieran staring blindly out of the window and waved to him. But he didn’t see her, let alone wave back. He seemed lost in thought. His life must have changed terribly, poor man. She knew how that felt.
As she climbed the stairs, the door to the flat opposite hers opened and a woman came out. Janey stopped to introduce herself, but with the briefest of nods the woman hurried down the stairs before she could get a word out. So much for having pleasant neighbours.
As she went inside, it began to rain, a few drops pattering against the window panes at first, then more until rain was beating hard against the glass. It wasn’t warm enough inside the room and she kept feeling Millie’s hands and cheeks to see if she was cold, but Millie never seemed to feel the cold. She played for a few minutes, glugged down a bottle of milk then fell abruptly asleep.
Janey wrapped an old shawl round her shoulders. She’d found it in a charity shop for a pound and it had been so useful. She loved the comforting warmth round her neck. As she stared out of the window, she wondered if Kieran was staring out too.
When a police car pulled up outside, her heart began to pound with anxiety. What now?
Kieran saw the police car draw up. What the hell did they want now? Without coming to a conscious decision, he left the flat and went upstairs as quickly as he could manage, knocking on Janey’s door.
‘If they’re here for you again, I thought you might welcome some company.’
‘Thanks. I’m grateful.’ She turned to answer the intercom.
When the officers came up, she saw it was two different ones and wished suddenly that the female officer was there. She’d seemed to be on Janey’s side, or at least on the side of truth and fairness.
Bracing herself for more questions, more accusations, Janey waited for them to start the ball rolling.
‘We’ve come about the computer. I gather someone came to speak to you about it yesterday?’
She nodded, but didn’t say anything, just continued to wait.
‘Your father says your mother only agreed to let you have the computer and you shouldn’t have taken the printer. If you give it back and the spare cartridge, he’ll let the matter drop.’
It annoyed her that they were acting as if she was being forgiven for stealing something. ‘They must have given the printer to the courier or he wouldn’t have brought it here. And I don’t have any way of getting it back. I haven’t got a car and I’m living on benefits, so I can’t afford a courier.’
‘It must be returned, he says.’
‘I’ll take it back for you,’ Kieran promised rashly, though he’d not yet started driving again. But how hard could it be to go twenty miles and back? He wanted to make sure her parents couldn’t pretend anything went wrong with the return of the printer. He’d seen every dirty trick in the book during his time as a journo.
‘Do you have a car, Kieran?’ Janey asked. ‘I’ve not seen you driving one.’
‘I’m only just starting to drive again. My car’s in that double garage to the side.’ Which wasn’t quite the truth. He’d not actually driven his replacement car at all. But surely he could manage such a short trip, or find a friend to help out if necessary?
‘Thank you. You’re very kind.’
He looked at the police officers. ‘Would I be in order to ask Janey’s father for a receipt for the items?’
They shrugged and took their leave.
Janey looked at him, her mouth wobbling. ‘I keep worrying what he’s going to do next.’
‘Your father?’
‘Him and his policeman friend. My dad does just what he tells him to.’
He noticed how she almost spat out the word ‘policeman’ and didn’t name him, and wondered who this fellow was, why she hated him so much. ‘Whatever it is, we’ll cope.’
‘I’m not your responsibility, though I’m grateful for your help.’
‘I have a lot of time on my hands at present and it’s good to do something to help others. Leave it to me. Consider me your older brother.’ He saw by her quick nod that she’d understood the implications of this image, that he wasn’t interested in her sexually. She was smart and very mature for her age, had probably had to grow up fast in the past year and that must have been hard. But he’d never been attracted to much younger women.
Well, he’d had a hard year too, so he could sympathise. His freedom had vanished, and with it his whole way of life, the career he loved. His brother said he’d had a prolonged adolescence doing a job like that. Kieran smiled as he went back down the stairs. If so, he’d enjoyed every minute of it.
Soon after he returned to his own flat, Kieran saw Nicole arrive. He unlocked her half of the garage and stood watching as she drove her car inside. It had four new tyres and they gave off that new rubber smell. He lingered to chat to her.
‘I must pay you rent for this garage,’ she said. ‘I can’t take advantage of your kindness.’
He suddenly had an idea. ‘I’d rather you paid me in kind.’
She became instantly wary.
He tutted at her and twirled an imaginary moustache. ‘Aha, my proud beauty!’ But he couldn’t keep it up and when he laughed, she joined in.
‘Don’t jump to conclusions, Nicole. I’m no danger to any woman at the moment, can hardly get around let alone play the seducer.’
She blushed a vivid red. ‘Sorry.’
He gestured towards the flats. ‘What I meant was, one of my tenants is a single mother, only eighteen, and she needs to return a printer to her father. They’re pretending she stole it. The poor girl can’t afford to pay a courier and she has no car of her own, so how they can claim she got there to steal it, I don’t know. I said I’d see to returning it, but if truth be told, I’m not quite fit to drive yet – though I’m getting there. It’s only twenty miles away in Swindon …?’ He left the question hanging in the air and waited.
‘I’m happy to do that.’ She frowned at him. ‘It seems a strange thing for parents to do. Can’t the father come and pick it up himself if he needs it?’
‘I’ll explain as we drive. When would be convenient for you? I can go anytime.’
‘How about tomorrow morning, about eleven?’
‘I’ll check that someone will be in – no, on second thoughts, I think it might be better to take them by surprise. People are usually in on Sundays, after all.’
‘Whatever.’ She glanced down at her watch. ‘I have to go. I’ll pick you up on Sunday, then.’
‘Great. I’ll be waiting.’
He watched her walk up the street towards her flat, trim and neat, moving briskly. Nice woman. He found her wholesome appearance attractive. He’d never gone for glamorous women, who often spent more time thinking about their appearance than living a life. Even when he was quite well known and meeting celebrities galore, he’d cared more about intelligence and a caring attitude, the mental equipment of a decent person.
Yes, he really liked Nicole. Funny how quickly you could tell. Pity she was only just separated. Too soon to ask her out for a proper date. That thought made him pause, then smile slowly. He must be getting better. It was the first time he’d been attracted to a woman since the accident.
Still, he could perhaps become her friend, as a start. It’d be good to make a few friends. His brother was always so damned busy making money that Kieran didn’t like to trouble him. And the journalists Kieran had hung out with in London rarely had the time to come down to Wiltshire to see him, though one or two emailed him now and then.