Weak at the Knees by Jo Kessel Page A
Authors: Jo Kessel
Tags: Fiction, Contemporary Women
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sweetest gentlest most giving person I know and she was so magnanimous she always put everyone else before herself. Always…… And I told her I’d shave my head too so that we’d both be bald together and she wouldn’t feel so stupid. Now she’ll never know what I look like without any hair and we’ll never be able to go to Australia together... OHNOHOHOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…”
Mrs. Slater came round to comfort me and I comforted her and together we said goodbye to our last vision of Amber.
*****
Hugo and I are stuck in gridlock thanks to post school drop-off traffic in Hendon. Seeing as the local school is a secondary one, the same one that I went to, there’s no excuse. Pupils should be getting there under their own steam at this age, surely, as opposed to being chaperoned by their parents? I walked alongside fellow classmates past the crematorium twice a day, five days a week, watching smoke puffing out of its chimney umpteen times. “There goes another one,” we’d say. Laughing about it made it easier to stomach. Thankfully Amber and I went to different schools and never did this walk together or shared that joke together. Thank God. I feel sick enough as it is that this is where we’re heading.
When we enter the little chapel an Ella Fitzgerald track is playing. It’s Amber’s favourite Gershwin number: Someone to Watch Over Me .
There’s a saying old, says that love is blind
Still we’re often told, “seek and ye shall find”
So I’m going to seek a certain lad I’ve had in mind
Her coffin is laid out to the left and is strewn with blue petals. In fact, beautiful arrangements of blue flowers have been hung throughout the room. A glorious mix of chunky blue hydrangea blooms, irises, delphiniums and cornflowers. The scent is heavenly. If Amber had been standing next to me instead of Hugo she would have commented on the wonderful display, congratulating whoever’s idea it was. I say hello to and kiss Mrs. Slater and then I spot Mr. Slater, the short dark stocky man who abandoned his wife and daughter twelve years ago. Thank God he appeared to have left his Brazilian bimbette behind.
“A bit late now, don’t you think?” says a female voice, close in my ear.
I turn to see who is speaking to me, but the only person who is that close is Hugo.
“Did you hear some woman saying ‘it’s a bit late now, don’t you think’?” I ask him.
“No,” he replies, “can’t say I did.”
“I said it’s a bit late now, don’t you think? Can’t you hear me Danni?” I quickly flick my head from right to left, trying to work out who’s talking to me, but nobody is there.
“Amber?” I whisper. “Amber, is that you?”
I get no response and Hugo looks at me like I’m crazy, but I don’t care. I know that was Amber talking to me. I just know it. She doesn’t speak to me again, but it doesn’t matter because I can feel her encompassing me, warming me with her presence.
I go through the motions of saying hello to Mr. Slater. I express my sympathy, all the while agreeing with Amber that it is a bit late now, thinking what a heartless bastard he is and wondering whether he even had the slightest clue as to quite how much he’d upset his daughter. Even if he does and even if he’s feeling guilty beyond belief for those lost years, for the time he can’t make up, for the forgiveness he can never receive, I don’t care. I’m on Amber’s side in this, unconditionally. Because Amber was my best friend and I loved her.
*****
The service starts and the priest speaks beautifully about Amber. I start crying when he talks about her wonderful spirit and personality, how she’d achieved so much in her short life, how loved she was by all who knew her, what a wonderful daughter and friend she’d been to so many, how sorely she would be missed and how tragic it was that her life should be cut so short.
Mrs. Slater came round to comfort me and I comforted her and together we said goodbye to our last vision of Amber.
*****
Hugo and I are stuck in gridlock thanks to post school drop-off traffic in Hendon. Seeing as the local school is a secondary one, the same one that I went to, there’s no excuse. Pupils should be getting there under their own steam at this age, surely, as opposed to being chaperoned by their parents? I walked alongside fellow classmates past the crematorium twice a day, five days a week, watching smoke puffing out of its chimney umpteen times. “There goes another one,” we’d say. Laughing about it made it easier to stomach. Thankfully Amber and I went to different schools and never did this walk together or shared that joke together. Thank God. I feel sick enough as it is that this is where we’re heading.
When we enter the little chapel an Ella Fitzgerald track is playing. It’s Amber’s favourite Gershwin number: Someone to Watch Over Me .
There’s a saying old, says that love is blind
Still we’re often told, “seek and ye shall find”
So I’m going to seek a certain lad I’ve had in mind
Her coffin is laid out to the left and is strewn with blue petals. In fact, beautiful arrangements of blue flowers have been hung throughout the room. A glorious mix of chunky blue hydrangea blooms, irises, delphiniums and cornflowers. The scent is heavenly. If Amber had been standing next to me instead of Hugo she would have commented on the wonderful display, congratulating whoever’s idea it was. I say hello to and kiss Mrs. Slater and then I spot Mr. Slater, the short dark stocky man who abandoned his wife and daughter twelve years ago. Thank God he appeared to have left his Brazilian bimbette behind.
“A bit late now, don’t you think?” says a female voice, close in my ear.
I turn to see who is speaking to me, but the only person who is that close is Hugo.
“Did you hear some woman saying ‘it’s a bit late now, don’t you think’?” I ask him.
“No,” he replies, “can’t say I did.”
“I said it’s a bit late now, don’t you think? Can’t you hear me Danni?” I quickly flick my head from right to left, trying to work out who’s talking to me, but nobody is there.
“Amber?” I whisper. “Amber, is that you?”
I get no response and Hugo looks at me like I’m crazy, but I don’t care. I know that was Amber talking to me. I just know it. She doesn’t speak to me again, but it doesn’t matter because I can feel her encompassing me, warming me with her presence.
I go through the motions of saying hello to Mr. Slater. I express my sympathy, all the while agreeing with Amber that it is a bit late now, thinking what a heartless bastard he is and wondering whether he even had the slightest clue as to quite how much he’d upset his daughter. Even if he does and even if he’s feeling guilty beyond belief for those lost years, for the time he can’t make up, for the forgiveness he can never receive, I don’t care. I’m on Amber’s side in this, unconditionally. Because Amber was my best friend and I loved her.
*****
The service starts and the priest speaks beautifully about Amber. I start crying when he talks about her wonderful spirit and personality, how she’d achieved so much in her short life, how loved she was by all who knew her, what a wonderful daughter and friend she’d been to so many, how sorely she would be missed and how tragic it was that her life should be cut so short.
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