The reverend shuffles in his chair to place one hand on my knee and says, ‘I can see you’re angry, Scarlett, but remember this: if your father knew you loved him, he would have died a happy man.’
I wish I could hear truth in his words because if I could, my dad would’ve died the most loved and happy man I’ve ever known.
‘Tell me, what was he like?’
‘The best,’ I say honestly. ‘He brought me up. He did the best job he could and it was more than good enough.’
Smiling as memories of our life in this very space flash through my mind, I stand and walk to the centre of the room beneath the sparkling, crystal chandelier.
‘Do you remember how he taught us to dance, Sandy?’
‘Oh, yes, he twirled me around so fast, I could hardly breathe.’
‘He lifted me onto his feet and turned me and turned me until my head was in a spin. I had to hug into his stomach to stop me from falling but I kept telling him, “Faster!” We spun, faster, faster…’
‘And you spun until he fell back onto the sofa still holding you in his arms,’ Sandy adds.
‘He was the best.’
‘Oh dear me,’ Sandy says through a laugh. She tries to speak but ends up hugging her ribs, almost folded in half as she chuckles from the pit of her stomach. ‘Do… you… rem… remem… remember when he… when he taught us how to do a sack race.’
I laugh too. It’s short but genuine.
‘It was for my sports day at school,’ I tell the reverend. ‘I was nervous about being picked to represent the red team in the sack race. I had no idea how to do it. In the past, I’d always been picked to do the relay or the egg-and-spoon race.’
‘Ooooooh,’ Sandy calls, wafting one hand to cool her face in an attempt to cease her laughter. ‘Go on! Go on!’
‘Sandy told my dad how nervous I was and when he came home from work, he’d brought with him two large, yellow clinical waste sacks. They were obviously plastic,’ I add for the reverend’s benefit. ‘After dinner, we all went outside to the garden and Dad marked out a track for us to jump. “Right, get in your sack,” he said. Sandy helped me shuffle to the start line. “Ready, steady, go!” she said. Dad took two flawless jumps forward in his clinical waste sack. “See how easy it is!” he said. It did look easy, so I took two jumps forwards. Dad hopped twice again and I followed. “Keep going! Keep goooooiiiiiiing!”’
‘And splat!’ Sandy adds. ‘His bag slipped on some cat poop and he went flying.’
‘He tried to save himself by kicking his legs but he was kicking against the plastic and the cat poo had spread by then.’
‘Next thing we heard was, “Whoaaaa!”’ Sandy says. ‘He realised it wasn’t quite as easy as he thought after that but the next day, when I stood at the start line and looked over at my dad watching me, all I could do was giggle. It turned into one of the most fun things I ever did at school.’
‘Jolly good story!’ Reverend Griffiths says with a clap. ‘Excellent! Would you be happy for me to use your stories tomorrow?’
Tomorrow. It strikes like a lightning bolt.
‘That would be nice,’ Sandy says.
We stand at the door and wave to Reverend Griffiths as he drives away from the house.
‘Do you know what occurred to me today, Sandy?’
‘What’s that?’
‘You’re the only family I’ve got.’
26
I watch myself in my floor-length mirror, slowly stepping into black heels then pulling tight the waist belt on my black mac over my suit. I move my loose curls back over my shoulders.
‘Ready?’ Sandy asks beneath her black net veil as I walk down the stairs.
‘As I’ll ever be.’
The door knocker is tapped and Sandy steps towards the door, her heels clipping once, twice on the floor.
