A week later the tiny church in Porthpean is packed, with people having to stand at the back. Many of Grandad’s theatre friends are here, some as old and frail as he was, and then there are younger actors who had worked with him in London. All the locals are here too. Granny and Grandad had been at the heart of this community, always inviting friends for lunch and tea on the lawn and Granny had got to know so many neighbours and friends by selling her homegrown vegetables in the beach car park and at the front of the house.
Dan wanted to be here. He’s sitting behind me, with Fiona. He’d also come to Granny’s funeral. ‘I’m really fond of the old dragon,’ he’d once said. ‘Since having Isla I understand now the lengths you’ll go to, to protect your child.’
For the past few days I have been with Bella, helping to arrange the funeral and the tea afterwards. Lucas stayed for a couple of days, before having to return to work, but I encouraged Ward to go back to London, and to take Isla with him, arranging for her to return to school and stay with Dan. Bella and I had so much to do that I felt there was little point in him hanging around. Also, as much as I’m grateful to Ward for all his support, I wanted to be alone to talk to Bella about Grandad’s last few days. Bella had told me that she’d popped by first thing in the morning to give him his newspaper. Normally he’d be in the kitchen eating breakfast with the radio on, or he’d be in the sitting room. He wasn’t in either. She’d called and she’d called, fearing he might have had another fall, before rushing upstairs to find him in bed. He knew she was there but he couldn’t move, his right-hand side was paralysed. She’d called an ambulance. It was then that he’d managed to murmur Granny’s name, followed by mine and Lucas’s. Bella had done everything she could to keep him calm. ‘I told him you and Lucas were on your way, Jan. He waited for you.’
Bella and I have organised drinks, tea and cake after the funeral, and also worked on a photograph display to celebrate Grandad’s life. There are some black-and-white shots of him as a child, some pictures of him on stage with his actors, along with some photos of Lucas, Granny and me on Porthpean Beach, all of us in shorts and T-shirts. There’s a lovely image of Grandad pushing Isla up and down on his homemade wooden swing.
It’s been so odd and sad sleeping in the house without him; it’s cold and empty. I haven’t been able to stop crying at night, hugging my pillow. It hurts physically to think he has gone, that I will never see his face again or have his wise counsel. I am so relieved that I managed to spend that precious time with him when Ward’s car broke down. I think of our lovely walk on the beach. I grip the service sheet. I was meant to see Grandad this weekend. Ward, Isla and I were going to go down and stay. Grandad had already planned the meals. He was going to buy some cod in batter for Friday. But I keep on reminding myself how lucky I was to reach him in time to say goodbye. Had it not been for Ward… I turn to him and he clutches my hand. It’s as if I am saying goodbye to Granny all over again, and it brings up the loss of my parents too, who should be here. They always should have been here. I’m relieved Ward hasn’t seen me in pieces, but his telephone call at the end of the day has meant the world to me. I feel a little nudge. When Isla hands me her small pink heart fleece cushion my heart bursts with love.
As we sing the first hymn I glance towards Lucas, sittingat the end of our row. He’s staring at Grandad’s coffin. I am so relieved for him, and for Grandad, that he’d managed to say goodbye. I am also glad that he had the chance to say he loved Grandad. ‘But did he hear me, Jan?’ Lucas had asked, distressed. ‘I don’t know if…’
‘He did. He knew you loved him.’
Yet Lucas had looked unconvinced, as if he’d done too little, too late.
After the service guests mill outside before heading back down the steep hill to Beach House for tea. I am talking to Dan and Fiona, Isla holding my hand tightly. Ward has walked on ahead with Bella. ‘He seems lovely,’ Dan says to me, gesturing to him. When Lucas approaches he asks, ‘Is that Ward Metcalfe, your boss?’
I nod. ‘I’ll introduce you.’
‘That would be great.’
‘Ward is Mum’s new boyfriend, Uncle Lucas,’ says Isla.
‘Right.’
‘It’s early days,’ I say, biting my lip.
‘We probably ought to set up a meeting,’ Lucas continues, staring ahead, bottled anger in his voice.
‘A meeting?’
Dan and Fiona are deathly quiet. Discreetly they walk on ahead.
‘Well, we need to sell Beach House and I’m sure Ward would reduce the fee, wouldn’t he?’ When I say nothing he goes on, ‘There have got to be some perks for being an estate agent.’
I turn to him, shocked and more angry than I can say. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘Being practical, because someone has to be.’
‘By talking about selling up when he’s barely in his grave?’ I shout. ‘Don’t you dare take your anger out on me, Lucas! Why don’t you just grow up and accept that what happened to our mum and dad happened to both of us!’
Ward tries to intervene.
‘I’m OK,’ I say, concentrating on Lucas. Pain is etched on my brother’s face, his eyes clouding with tears.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I didn’t mean it, Jan, you know I didn’t. I failed him. I failed. There were so many things I didn’t say. Oh, Jan, I’m sorry.’
But his apology is too late. ‘Some things aren’t for sale,’ I say, grabbing Isla’s hand and running as fast as I can, away from everyone.
31
It’s a late Friday afternoon in early December, two and half weeks since the funeral, and I’m back at work. If possible, I feel even sadder about Grandad. Now that the funeral is over, it feels so final. I don’t know what I would have done without Lizzie taking some time off to help me go through all his belongings. She has been gentle but firm, and slowly we have been clearing out Beach House. Grandad left lots of precious things for me. On my mantelpiece at home is his French carriage clock decorated with flowers, a butterfly and birds. I wanted to keep so many photographs, including the picture of my mother holding me as a baby. I haven’t seen Lucas since the funeral, only spoken to him on the telephone. He apologised again and we’ve cleared the air, but he is still intent on selling the house as quickly as possible. ‘We have to be realistic. I’m not doing this to punish you, I swear I’m not, but we can’t afford to keep it.’
But I still can’t give my consent.
Lucie, Graham and Nadine have all been wonderful. Nadine makes sure to pop an extra sugar in my tea or coffee and nags me to go out at lunchtime, insisting the fresh air and break will do me good. She escorts me to the cafe over the road or the deli round the corner to make sure I’m eating. Graham tries to make me laugh with his jokes and because they are often so bad, his trick works. Lucie is sensitive enough not to flash her ring and be over the moon happy right now, despite me telling her she mustn’t worry. Instead the office is subdued but warm and I can see more clearly than ever that my colleagues aren’t my colleagues, they’re my friends and when or if I ever leave Sherwoods, I will miss them. Even Spencer sent me some flowers and a brief note saying he was thinking of me. Since finding out what Spencer did to Ward, Spencer’s visits have thankfully been less frequent. I find it difficult to see him, especially when Spencer acts as if nothing has happened. Ward didn’t want me to tell anyone in the office about the affair; understandably he doesn’t want the property world to know his business.
Ward has been incredible and, if anything, this has made our relationship even stronger. He appears to understand the position with Lucas and has promised me he won’t do a thing without my consent, and I trust him.
