‘How was she?’
‘A mess.’
‘I’ve really fucked up.’ I’ll never see the way her lean body moves again. Her immaculate, naked flesh, like silk to touch. The scent of her perfume like nothing I’ve smelled on anyone before: dumfounding. The way she questions herself, not knowing just how devastating those curves are when she’s moving over me. The way she literally questions me about everything else.
‘You didn’t know he’d go after her, Greg.’
‘I’ve put her in danger. She’ll never see me again and I don’t fucking blame her.’
Jackson moves to stand beside me and takes a swig of brandy, looking straight ahead at the bruising night. ‘Does it matter?’
‘What kind of question is that?’
‘A legitimate one.’
I push my hands into my trouser pockets and watch Jackson’s faint reflection in the glass pane.
‘Is she just another one? Do you want her because you can’t buy her? Or do you care about her? If she’s just another notch on the bed post, Greg, then be fair to her and let her go. She’s been through enough.’
‘And what if she’s not? What if she’s different?’
‘Then you’ve got to do what you seem incapable of doing. You’ve got to let her in.’
I thump the window with the side of my fist and let it rest there above my head.
‘You have to stop letting the past dictate your life.’
I don’t know how.
Jackson refills his own glass then tops up mine. ‘Let’s end this. Let’s end it for good. My way this time.’
I move back to my seat and gulp half the brandy in my glass. ‘Find him.’
24
With my phone strapped to my arm and ear buds in, I run in the morning light for miles, my breath forming clouds around me, my fingers glowing red under the cold bite of the air. The music shields me from passersby who might want to say, Good morning, or, Condolences, keeps me concentrating on making sure my feet touch the ground without tripping and prevents my mind from wandering into the shadows. I run until sweat pours out of me and I have nothing left to give.
Dereck Marshall – Dereck Death, as Sandy calls him – arrives at eleven. It’s such a peculiar choice of vocation, a funeral director. At what age does a person wake up one morning and think, I know what I’m going to do with my life; I’ve found my true calling: I’m going to be a funeral director? This is what I’m thinking about as Dereck Death shuffles his glasses on the end of his nose, then pulls out a leather-bound picture book. The snow-white album looks ironically like a wedding album, only, rather than signifying a new life, Dereck Death’s album represents the end of a story, the finale to the play of life. He begins some rhetoric about the importance of an eloquent close to one’s time on earth as he flicks the pages from high-gloss, white coffins to a soft, rosewood option, then from black, marble, heart-shaped headstones to grey, angular alternatives.
Perhaps because of the way my dad used to deal with death – professional, detached – I find it easy to be emotionally disconnected from the process of choosing flowers and deciding whether my dad would like a gold or silver plaque on top of his coffin. The minute detail of how he’ll be buried bears no relation to my dad: his life, the man he was or still is in my memory. We agree to hold a wake at a hotel close to the church where the service will take place but even as I work through the details, I know I won’t attend. I have no desire to listen to those who were absent in Dad’s time of need regale a room with stories of how close they were and the good times they shared. They can brag amongst themselves.
After he places his leather book back into his zip-up bag and straightens the legs of his trousers, Dereck Death makes his own way towards the door.
‘I’ve had confirmation now of the postmortem results. Natural causes, so I see no reason why we won’t be able to work to Friday,’ he says.
I know the truth.
‘Scarlett. Scarlett. Dereck is leaving,’ Sandy says.
‘Hmm? Sorry, ah, yes, thank you,’ I say, shaking Dereck’s hand.
‘Are you okay?’ Sandy asks when the door is closed.
‘Yes, of course. Fine. Are you okay?’
She nods once.
‘Would you mind if I go into the office today?’
