‘Yours, always yours, but he was, and if she wants to say a few words ...’
‘Yeah, well, I left it to her and Mum to sort out, and they’ve made a plan. I’ll say my bit and she’ll say hers. It’s a bit cringe though, isn’t it, like how many speeches does there need to be?’
‘Well, you don’t need to do one. You could leave it to her.’
‘Are you joking?’
He exhaled and held his hands out, as if aware that there was no right thing to say and that he was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.
‘I spoke to Soph earlier. She said Mum was quiet, but seemed okay.’ She gathered herself.
Her mother’s stoicism in the wake of losing Dennis, a couple of weeks ago now, was admirable. Ruthie, who made a meal out of everything, who greeted the most minor crisis with much ado, had been calm. It seemed the magnitude of such a loss, the shock and life-altering ripples that came from it, were enough to cow even the strongest of personalities. It was another element to her grief, to see her mother so altered, so quiet, and knowing there wasn’t a thing she could do to put it right.
It had made sense for Sophie, Riccardo, and Elio, now eleven, to stay at Ruthie’s; she did after all have the two spare rooms. Not three, like Mrs Jenkins who used to live over the road, but still. This nostalgic thought pulled on those darn tears again. Remy hadfigured it would be a lovely distraction for her mum, having her granddaughter and great-grandson to fuss over.
‘Is Elio going to the funeral?’ her husband asked.
Remy nodded. ‘Soph thinks he should be exposed to all aspects of life, thinks it would do him more harm to be left at home with a babysitter, wondering what was going on while we all traipsed out to be together. I’m not sure I would have taken my kids aged eleven, but what do I know?’
‘Soph’s a great mum.’
‘Oh, she is a great mum, no doubt. I’m not saying that, and I suppose it’s different, isn’t it, nowadays? Kids are exposed to more things than we can imagine, thanks to the internet. I guess I’m more worried about Elio seeing us upset, seeing me cry.’
‘I think that’s exactly Sophie’s point about us being open, showing how we’re feeling, saying that it’s fine to have a whole range of emotions and not shielding him.’
‘I guess so.’
‘Did you not cover that in therapy? I’m not prying, it’s a genuine question. I’m not being ...’
‘It’s fine, my love.’ She found a smile. There was still hesitancy in his tone whenever they discussed her sessions, still a smidge of awkwardness at the whole topic, as if he was unsure what was up for discussion and what was off-limits, respecting her privacy and her journey. Therapy had been a murky and vague word, something she felt was for other people. Turns out she was other people.
They rarely spoke about the detail of her one-to-ones, more how the last few years had helped her put into perspective so many of the things that had hampered or preoccupied her. Things she only thought about occasionally when reminded, like the guilt at hearing that Tyler, her loud colleague, had jumped from a bridge and taken his young life. Always positive Tyler, who it turned out might have very much neededsomeoneto talk to who was not acustomer on the end of a line. To the bigger things that impacted her daily; being one of two twins who were almost estranged, and the complicated range of familial difficulties that brought with it. Her short-lived, failed first marriage that she had rushed headlong into without a thought for the consequences. The fact that Ashleigh had more or less disappeared when Remy had made her confession, and how shitty that still felt. The unappealing thought of her sister sleeping with her ex, and of course, the trauma of her attack, quietly and painfully reliving it in so many variants, without the courage or confidence to talk openly about what she had been through, about whattheyhad been through. As if believing that if she were strong enough, laughed enough, kept busy enough, she could simply brush it under the carpet. It had helped massively, talking to a dispassionate stranger. She would always be thankful for being given that perspective, now able to look back on it as a terrible random thing, a chilling chapter in her life but just that – a chapter, and not her whole story, and certainly not the thing that she should allow to dominate and shape her life.
‘I don’t think so, nothing that specific, but maybe Sophie’s right. Yeah, why not let him see us, warts and all!’
‘He’s a good kid.’ Midge smiled, his role as grandad one that he cherished, in the way she could have predicted.
‘They’re all good kids, they really are. We’re so lucky.’
She smiled, picturing Bertie’s twin girls, Clementine and Topsy, now eighteen months old. Bertie and his wife Ulla Lumi lived a fantastic life on the coast, where he worked as a ranger for the South Downs National Park, and she taught at the local primary school. It was idyllic, but how she missed them all! Wanting them to live their best lives, to be happy, she understood how important it was for Ulla Lumi to be near her family, and not that she’d ever mention it, but it came at a cost to theirs. She was very much looking forward to seeing them both later. Ulla’s mother was looking after the girls.
Harper would not be coming.
It was more than she could cope with. Her darling middle child, who lived in a flat in Salisbury and whose life was not without its struggles. Harper, who, in her early twenties, had been diagnosed with severe depression, anxiety and a whole host of complex labels that formed a knotty ball which her girl did her best to navigate each and every day. Remy knew if she could have one wish,just one, it would be to make Harper’s life easier, to give her clarity of thought, a good night’s sleep and for there to be one day,just one, when her daughter didn’t feel the need to phone her several times to unload all the things that jostled in her mind for position. Remy loved her girl, loved her with her whole heart, as she did all of them, but she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that those interactions left her feeling exhausted. The call late last night had been no exception.
‘Mum, I ... I was going to wash my hair so I could come to Grandad’s funeral, but I’ve run out of shampoo—’
‘Do you want me to get you some shampoo?’she interrupted, looking at the clock, even at this hour wondering how long it would take her to drive in, make the drop, drive home. She’d do it, no matter how long, how tired, she’d do it ... do anything.
‘No, no, no, please don’t.’Harper sounded almost panicked by the prospect. It was like this sometimes when she was hiding.‘Anyway, I went on Amazon to see if I could get a hat delivered, like a ... a ... beret-type thing, but they can’t guarantee it will be here in time, and I can’t find my dark shoes. I spoke to Sophie, and she said she’d pick me up, tomorrow, but I know that it’s hard to pull up right outside sometimes and I got really panicked about where they’d park and being able to find the car. I thought they had a white car, but Sophie said they’d changed it last year. I’d hate to get in the wrong car. And I don’t think I want to go to the party after the funeral, don’t really want to see everyone, and just thinking about that, having to chat to people who are all going to ask me how I am, it made me feel awful.I had a nap, but, honestly, Mum? I loved Grandad, but I think he’d understand that it’s just too much for me ...’
‘He would, my love, he would.’
Midge, in his calm way, would remind her that if it was that exhausting for her, just imagine what it must be like for Harper. Part of the reason for giving up her job at the insurance company, almost eight years ago now, was so she could be there for her daughter. To field her calls, help her out in a crisis and give her the time and attention she needed to get through the day, being thatsomeoneto talk to.
The timing had all worked out, as it was around the same time that Midge had expanded the garage and hired her to take care of him and his staff of four. She made bookings, took payment from customers, ordered parts, stashed car keys, brewed coffee, you name it ... three days a week. Just enough.
This latest call had left her feeling a complex range of emotions; as ever worried for her daughter’s mental state, a little relieved that she wasn’t going to have to watch over her tomorrow – one less thing to stress about – and guilt, as she accepted the latter.
