Still Me
Page 79
Dad raised his eyebrows and, with a deft move, slid the toast off my plate.
‘Ah. Well, that would be the fatherly influence, you see.’ He yelped as Mum flicked her tea-towel at the back of his head and then, as she turned, he smiled at me with a look of utter relief.
The funeral passed, as funerals do, with varying degrees of sadness, some tears, and a sizeable percentage of the congregation wishing they knew the tunes to the hymns. It was not an excessive gathering, as the priest put it politely. Granddad had ventured out so rarely by the end that few of his friends even seemed to know that he’d passed, even though Mum had put a notice in the Stortfold Observer. Either that or most of them were dead too (with a couple of the mourners it was quite hard to tell the difference).
At the graveside I stood beside Treena, my jaw tense, and felt a very particular kind of sibling gratitude when her hand crept into mine and squeezed it. I looked behind me to where Eddie was holding Thom’s hand, and he was kicking quietly at a daisy in the grass, perhaps trying not to cry, or perhaps thinking about Transformers or the half-eaten biscuit he had wedged into the upholstery of the funeral car.
I heard the priest murmur the familiar recitation about dust and ashes and my eyes filled with tears. I wiped them away with a handkerchief. And then I looked up, and across the grave at the back of the small throng of mourners stood Sam. My heart lurched. I felt a hot flush, somewhere between fear and nausea. I caught his eye briefly through the crowd, blinked hard and looked away. When I looked back, he had gone.
I was at the buffet at the pub when I turned to find him beside me. I had never seen him in a suit and the sight of him looking both so handsome and so unfamiliar briefly knocked my breath from my chest. I decided to handle the situation in as mature a way as possible and simply refused to acknowledge his presence, peering intently instead at the plates of sandwiches, in the manner of someone who had only recently been introduced to the concept of food.
He stood there, perhaps waiting for me to look up, and then said softly, ‘I’m sorry about your granddad. I know what a close family you are.’
‘Not that close, clearly, or I would have been here.’ I busied myself arranging the napkins on the table, even though Mum had paid for waiting staff.
‘Yes, well, life doesn’t always work like that.’
‘So I’ve gathered.’ I closed my eyes briefly, trying to remove the spike from my voice. I took a breath, then finally looked up at him, my face arranged carefully into something neutral. ‘So how are you?’
‘Not bad, thanks. You?’
‘Oh. Fine.’
We stood for a moment.
‘How’s your house?’
‘Coming on. Moving in next month.’
‘Wow.’ I was briefly startled from my discomfort. It seemed improbable to me that someone I knew could build a house from nothing. I had seen it when it was just a patch of concrete on the ground. And yet he had done it. ‘That’s – that’s amazing.’
‘I know. I’ll miss the old railway carriage, though. I quite liked being in there. Life was … simple.’
We looked at each other, then away.
‘How’s Katie?’
The faintest of pauses. ‘She’s fine.’
My mother appeared at my shoulder with a tray of sausage rolls. ‘Lou, sweetheart, would you see where Treen is? She was going to hand these round for me – oh, there she is. Perhaps you could take them to her. There’s people over there haven’t had anything to eat ye–’ She suddenly grasped who I was talking to. She snatched the tray away from me. ‘Sorry. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.’
‘You weren’t,’ I said, slightly more emphatically than I’d intended. I took hold of the tray’s edge.
‘I’ll do it, love,’ she said, pulling it towards her waist.
‘I can do it.’ I held tight, my knuckles glowing white.
‘Lou. Let. Go,’ she said firmly. Her eyes burnt into mine. I finally relinquished my grip and she hurried away.
Sam and I stood by the table. We smiled awkwardly at each other but the smiles fell away too quickly. I picked up a plate and put a carrot stick on it. I wasn’t sure I could eat anything but it seemed odd to stand there with an empty plate.
‘So. Are you back for long?’
‘Just a week.’
‘How’s life treating you over there?’
‘It’s been interesting. I got the sack.’
‘Lily told me. I see a fair bit of her now with the whole Jake thing.’
‘Yeah, that was … surprising.’ I wondered briefly what Lily had told him about her visit.
‘Not to me. I could see it from the first time they met. You know, she’s great. They’re happy.’
I nodded, as if in agreement.
‘She talks a lot. About your amazing boyfriend and how you picked yourself up after the firing thing and found another place to live and your job at that Vintage Clothes Emporium.’ He was apparently as fascinated as I was by the cheese straws. ‘You got it all sorted, then. She’s in awe of you.’
‘I doubt that.’
‘She said New York suits you.’ He shrugged. ‘But I guess we both knew that.’
I snuck a look at him while his gaze was elsewhere, marvelling with the small part of me that wasn’t actually dying that two people who were once so comfortable with each other could now barely work out how to string a sentence together in conversation.
‘I have something for you. In my room at home,’ I said abruptly. I wasn’t entirely sure where it came from. ‘I brought it back last time but … you know.’
‘Something for me?’
‘Not you exactly. It’s, well, it’s a Knicks baseball cap. I bought it … a while back. That thing you told me about your sister. She never made it to 30 Rock but I thought, well, maybe Jake might like it.’
He stared at me.
It was my turn to look down at my feet. ‘It’s probably a stupid idea, though,’ I said. ‘I can give it to someone else. It’s not like I can’t find a home for a Knicks cap in New York. And it might be a bit weird, me giving you stuff.’
‘No. No. He’d love it. That’s very kind of you.’ Someone beeped a horn outside and Sam glanced towards the window. I wondered idly if Katie was waiting in the car for him.
I didn’t know what to say. There didn’t seem to be a right answer to any of it. I tried to fight the lump that had risen to my throat. I thought back to the Strager ball – I’d assumed that Sam would hate it, that he wouldn’t have a suit. Why did I think that? The one he was wearing today looked like it had been made for him. ‘I’ll – I’ll send it. Do you know what?’ I said, when I couldn’t bear it any longer. ‘I think I’d better help Mum with those – with the – there are sausages that …’
Sam took a step backwards. ‘Sure. I just wanted to pay my respects. I’ll leave you to it.’
He turned away and my face crumpled. I was glad I was at a wake where nobody would think this particular expression worthy of attention. And then, before I could straighten my face, he turned back to me.
‘Lou,’ he said quietly.
I couldn’t speak. I just shook my head. And then I watched him as he made his way through the mourners and out through the pub door.
That evening Mum handed me a small parcel.
‘Is this from Granddad?’ I said.
‘Don’t be daft,’ she said. ‘Granddad never gave anyone a present for the last ten years of his life. This is from your man, Sam. Seeing him today reminded me. You left it here the last time you came. I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to do with it.’
I held the little box and had a sudden memory of our argument at the kitchen table. Happy Christmas, he’d said, and dropped it there as he left.
Mum turned away and began washing up. I opened it carefully, peeling off the layers of wrapping paper with exaggerated care, like someone opening an artefact from a previous age.
Inside the little box lay an enamel pin in the shape of an ambulance, perhaps from the 1950s. Its red cross was made of tiny jewels that might have been rubies, or might have been paste. Either way, it glittered in my hand. A tiny note was folded in the roof of the box. To remind you of me while we’re apart. All my love, Your Ambulance Sam. Xxx
‘Ah. Well, that would be the fatherly influence, you see.’ He yelped as Mum flicked her tea-towel at the back of his head and then, as she turned, he smiled at me with a look of utter relief.
The funeral passed, as funerals do, with varying degrees of sadness, some tears, and a sizeable percentage of the congregation wishing they knew the tunes to the hymns. It was not an excessive gathering, as the priest put it politely. Granddad had ventured out so rarely by the end that few of his friends even seemed to know that he’d passed, even though Mum had put a notice in the Stortfold Observer. Either that or most of them were dead too (with a couple of the mourners it was quite hard to tell the difference).
At the graveside I stood beside Treena, my jaw tense, and felt a very particular kind of sibling gratitude when her hand crept into mine and squeezed it. I looked behind me to where Eddie was holding Thom’s hand, and he was kicking quietly at a daisy in the grass, perhaps trying not to cry, or perhaps thinking about Transformers or the half-eaten biscuit he had wedged into the upholstery of the funeral car.
I heard the priest murmur the familiar recitation about dust and ashes and my eyes filled with tears. I wiped them away with a handkerchief. And then I looked up, and across the grave at the back of the small throng of mourners stood Sam. My heart lurched. I felt a hot flush, somewhere between fear and nausea. I caught his eye briefly through the crowd, blinked hard and looked away. When I looked back, he had gone.
I was at the buffet at the pub when I turned to find him beside me. I had never seen him in a suit and the sight of him looking both so handsome and so unfamiliar briefly knocked my breath from my chest. I decided to handle the situation in as mature a way as possible and simply refused to acknowledge his presence, peering intently instead at the plates of sandwiches, in the manner of someone who had only recently been introduced to the concept of food.
He stood there, perhaps waiting for me to look up, and then said softly, ‘I’m sorry about your granddad. I know what a close family you are.’
‘Not that close, clearly, or I would have been here.’ I busied myself arranging the napkins on the table, even though Mum had paid for waiting staff.
‘Yes, well, life doesn’t always work like that.’
‘So I’ve gathered.’ I closed my eyes briefly, trying to remove the spike from my voice. I took a breath, then finally looked up at him, my face arranged carefully into something neutral. ‘So how are you?’
‘Not bad, thanks. You?’
‘Oh. Fine.’
We stood for a moment.
‘How’s your house?’
‘Coming on. Moving in next month.’
‘Wow.’ I was briefly startled from my discomfort. It seemed improbable to me that someone I knew could build a house from nothing. I had seen it when it was just a patch of concrete on the ground. And yet he had done it. ‘That’s – that’s amazing.’
‘I know. I’ll miss the old railway carriage, though. I quite liked being in there. Life was … simple.’
We looked at each other, then away.
‘How’s Katie?’
The faintest of pauses. ‘She’s fine.’
My mother appeared at my shoulder with a tray of sausage rolls. ‘Lou, sweetheart, would you see where Treen is? She was going to hand these round for me – oh, there she is. Perhaps you could take them to her. There’s people over there haven’t had anything to eat ye–’ She suddenly grasped who I was talking to. She snatched the tray away from me. ‘Sorry. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.’
‘You weren’t,’ I said, slightly more emphatically than I’d intended. I took hold of the tray’s edge.
‘I’ll do it, love,’ she said, pulling it towards her waist.
‘I can do it.’ I held tight, my knuckles glowing white.
‘Lou. Let. Go,’ she said firmly. Her eyes burnt into mine. I finally relinquished my grip and she hurried away.
Sam and I stood by the table. We smiled awkwardly at each other but the smiles fell away too quickly. I picked up a plate and put a carrot stick on it. I wasn’t sure I could eat anything but it seemed odd to stand there with an empty plate.
‘So. Are you back for long?’
‘Just a week.’
‘How’s life treating you over there?’
‘It’s been interesting. I got the sack.’
‘Lily told me. I see a fair bit of her now with the whole Jake thing.’
‘Yeah, that was … surprising.’ I wondered briefly what Lily had told him about her visit.
‘Not to me. I could see it from the first time they met. You know, she’s great. They’re happy.’
I nodded, as if in agreement.
‘She talks a lot. About your amazing boyfriend and how you picked yourself up after the firing thing and found another place to live and your job at that Vintage Clothes Emporium.’ He was apparently as fascinated as I was by the cheese straws. ‘You got it all sorted, then. She’s in awe of you.’
‘I doubt that.’
‘She said New York suits you.’ He shrugged. ‘But I guess we both knew that.’
I snuck a look at him while his gaze was elsewhere, marvelling with the small part of me that wasn’t actually dying that two people who were once so comfortable with each other could now barely work out how to string a sentence together in conversation.
‘I have something for you. In my room at home,’ I said abruptly. I wasn’t entirely sure where it came from. ‘I brought it back last time but … you know.’
‘Something for me?’
‘Not you exactly. It’s, well, it’s a Knicks baseball cap. I bought it … a while back. That thing you told me about your sister. She never made it to 30 Rock but I thought, well, maybe Jake might like it.’
He stared at me.
It was my turn to look down at my feet. ‘It’s probably a stupid idea, though,’ I said. ‘I can give it to someone else. It’s not like I can’t find a home for a Knicks cap in New York. And it might be a bit weird, me giving you stuff.’
‘No. No. He’d love it. That’s very kind of you.’ Someone beeped a horn outside and Sam glanced towards the window. I wondered idly if Katie was waiting in the car for him.
I didn’t know what to say. There didn’t seem to be a right answer to any of it. I tried to fight the lump that had risen to my throat. I thought back to the Strager ball – I’d assumed that Sam would hate it, that he wouldn’t have a suit. Why did I think that? The one he was wearing today looked like it had been made for him. ‘I’ll – I’ll send it. Do you know what?’ I said, when I couldn’t bear it any longer. ‘I think I’d better help Mum with those – with the – there are sausages that …’
Sam took a step backwards. ‘Sure. I just wanted to pay my respects. I’ll leave you to it.’
He turned away and my face crumpled. I was glad I was at a wake where nobody would think this particular expression worthy of attention. And then, before I could straighten my face, he turned back to me.
‘Lou,’ he said quietly.
I couldn’t speak. I just shook my head. And then I watched him as he made his way through the mourners and out through the pub door.
That evening Mum handed me a small parcel.
‘Is this from Granddad?’ I said.
‘Don’t be daft,’ she said. ‘Granddad never gave anyone a present for the last ten years of his life. This is from your man, Sam. Seeing him today reminded me. You left it here the last time you came. I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to do with it.’
I held the little box and had a sudden memory of our argument at the kitchen table. Happy Christmas, he’d said, and dropped it there as he left.
Mum turned away and began washing up. I opened it carefully, peeling off the layers of wrapping paper with exaggerated care, like someone opening an artefact from a previous age.
Inside the little box lay an enamel pin in the shape of an ambulance, perhaps from the 1950s. Its red cross was made of tiny jewels that might have been rubies, or might have been paste. Either way, it glittered in my hand. A tiny note was folded in the roof of the box. To remind you of me while we’re apart. All my love, Your Ambulance Sam. Xxx
