‘Cheers, mate,’ said Mark as he clinked his pint glass against Declan’s.
‘And you know, I am here if you ever do feel like you need to talk,’ reinforced Declan.
They talked about the football, and this and that, and after a final drink, walked back to the apartments together, feeling relaxed and happy.
‘I’m glad I ran into you; it was just what I needed,’ said Mark, patting Declan on the back. It was the first time in a while he hadn’t missed the presence of his wife. ‘Although I think I might leave these for another day,’ he said about the scotch he was carrying. ‘I can’t take the pace at my age. Unless, of course, you fancy one?’ he offered.
‘No, thanks. I will call it a night too.’ Declan smiled. ‘I have football in the morning.’
‘In that case, goodnight,’ said Mark.
‘Night.’
Declan glanced over at Jess’s apartment as he put the key in his front door but thought it best to leave her be for a while. He could only hope she would believe he was telling the truth about the accident.
For now, his thoughts turned to the call he would make to Ken Watson first thing on Monday morning, as he didn’t want to bother him over the weekend. He dared to hope that it might be the start of something he had only dreamt about. And so much of it was thanks to the friends he had made at Wisteria House.
FIFTY-TWO
MARK
They had such a small family, and his mother had few living friends, so the internment at the crematorium was small and brief.
Afterwards, Mark took Lynn and his nephew, Kyle, out for a meal.
He barely recognised his nephew, with his long hair. He was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans and was attending a local music college.
‘So do you get any local gigs?’ asked Mark as he tucked into his fish and chips.
He felt ashamed he knew so little of his life these days. Three years could mark such a change in a teenager’s life. He was determined to make up for lost time.
‘A few,’ said Kyle. ‘At the uni mainly.’
As his nephew sipped his pint, Mark realised that the last time he saw him he had only been allowed soft drinks. Never again would he waste a second of spending time with loved ones. Losing Di should have taught him that.
Kyle told Mark a little about the music his band played, when he had asked, but he was reserved with his answers.
‘Do you mind if I get off?’ asked Kyle an hour later after he had taken a message on his phone. ‘A couple of my mates are going into town.’
‘No, you go,’ Lynn said, giving her son a farewell hug. It hadn’t been easy for him today. Making conversation with an uncle he had not seen in a while. He had always loved Mark, and when he had gone quiet on them, Kyle felt abandoned.
Not that Lynn was blaming Mark. He had been dealing with his own grief. And she supposed she could have reached out to him a little more too and met on neutral ground. She knew how difficult it was for him to visit her when their mother had been staying. Her nursing job had all but drained her, though, so anything else was put on the back-burner.
It amazed her how adults could lecture their kids on how to behave when they were often so screwed up themselves.
‘He’s a good lad,’ said Mark after Kyle had departed. ‘You have done a good job.’
‘Thanks.’ She smiled. ‘And so have you.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you. Kyle adored you and Diane. He still talks of those walks in the Lake District fells when he was little. And how you taught him how to drive.’ She laughed.
‘Ssh, that wasn’t strictly legal, that.’ He pulled a face, recalling a time he had let Kyle take the wheel on a deserted stretch of beach when he was about thirteen.
‘And that time you took him to the Grand Prix at Silverstone. He was the envy of his whole class that year. Not many kids his age got to do stuff like that.’
‘I suppose so.’ He grinned. ‘Thanks, Lynn.’
