bushes, watching.’
I wasn’t worried about
Justin being pervy. (Being one of the greatly misunderstood myself,
I rarely made these assumptions about others, even when I should
have.) It was just that he was so eager to get his out, I knew he’d
have a big one. And I was certain I didn’t.
‘ You sure
you’re ok?’ Ian was double-triple checking, not sure how to read
me on-this-momentous-day. He was still coming out with all this grown up,
wordy stuff.
‘ Yep.’
‘ Ok. But after
today, yeah?’ he said, just half a sentence that told me there was
more to come. ‘After today, your mate keeps off my stuff,
yeah?’
I knew it would come, that
he’d have something to say, but his voice was softer.
Understanding, I guess. We were changing. Maybe it was just for
today, but something told me it was for good. Things were different
after all.
Sorry for your
loss.
But some things were
better lost, I reckoned.
The
party in-memory-of-that-lovely-woman kept
on going; neighbours and friends who’d been at work popped in,
bringing cans of beer. Someone brought a bunch of daffodils: Mrs
Winters, an old lady with a gammy leg, who somehow did a
house-cleaning round and lived six doors down.
‘ Picked them
from the crematorium,’ she said, handing them to Della with a
smile. ‘Ain’t they beautiful?’
Cherryade appeared from
somewhere and then someone handed me a tenner, suggesting I got
some chips or something, as the buffet was running a bit low. One
of Dad’s mates. I took the money. It seemed an odd request, but
suddenly I felt like chips, the smell of fat and vinegar, and a
breather from all the smoke and sweat.
I sneaked away, wanting
the time alone, the freedom. Ian was busy being slapped on the back
by Dad, his turn to be in favour. Della had the attention of some
chap who had his back to me; I wasn’t sure who. But, no one was
going to miss me for a bit, so I just slipped away to do my
errand.
‘ How about I
give you a lift there?’
Uncle Gary had followed me out.
‘ To Harry’s chip
shop ?’
I stared, blankly. Torn
between a bit of time on my own, or time with Gary and whatever
benefits that might bring.
‘ A ride in my
new car?’ he added.
Not-a-word-to-anyone; that was the sort of thing he usually said. But not on that day; it just went without saying,
I guess.
It was hot in his car. I
felt the heat of the brown leather seats through my nylon trousers.
He lit a fag and then wound down the window, letting out some of
the smoke.
‘ Things will
be different now,’ he said and I wanted to ask him: who do you
think you are, my dad? But I didn’t. ‘No need for our little
meetings anymore,’ he added and I understood. The little trips
in Uncle Gary’s
car. Our little secret, as he called it. Just
between us. No one else needs to know. Putting a note in my hand afterwards. Just between us.
I didn’t say
anything and for a few minutes, Uncle Gary had sat there, pulling on
his cigarette. Then, he’d stuck the keys in and revved up the
engine.
‘ Right,’ he
said, throwing the dog-end out of the window like it’s a dart.
‘To Harry’s.’
Standing in the fish and
chip shop, it felt like days had passed since the funeral, not
hours, not just a few hundred minutes, not just several thousand
seconds. Days, longer. At the time, it didn’t seem out of place to
be there. It seemed right. Just life. Just an errand; getting our
tea. Later, when I think back, it doesn’t seem true. It couldn’t
all have happened on the same day: the funeral; seeing Shirley
White; buying chips like it’s a Friday; and then what happened when
I got back. Looking back, it just seems too much, like a rush, a
jumble, impossible to fit in and digest. But that’s how it all
happened: that’s how it always happened. Everything at once, like a
story no one believes. A tall tale. Life is a tall tale; that’s
about it.
They stared at me, the
other customers. At first, I didn’t really understand. I
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