Chapter Twenty-Five #2
‘I’m not saying no forever,’ she managed. ‘To friends.’
‘Phew.’ He gave an exaggerated sigh and smiled. ‘At least there’s hope.’
Zennor nodded with a heart so heavy she couldn’t return the smile, even to lighten the moment. ‘I appreciate you told me the truth, but I think I need some time to myself.’
‘OK.’ He sighed again. ‘I need a drink. It’ll have to be tea as I’m driving. You look pale, so why don’t you let me get you one and take some time before you drive all that way back to St Ives?’
After the tea, which she accepted only because she also didn’t feel collected enough to tackle the twisty journey back to St Ives from the Minack, Zennor went straight home to her flat.
What she hadn’t told Trev was that today was the second anniversary of her dad’s passing. She’d arranged to call her mum that evening and, all day, she’d been on edge about it.
She’d messaged Roo about feeling a bit ‘off’ and Roo, being a good friend, had said it was understandable.
So Zennor sat on the balcony ready to let out her frustration.
Eric the seagull perched on the rail, watching her as if he was daring her to cry, but somehow, the tears wouldn’t come.
Perhaps there were none left or perhaps – and she hated to admit it – a tiny sliver of relief was mingled with her anger at Trev.
She now knew the truth, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Back in the kitchen, she pulled out Trev’s photo and Matt’s letter and put them side by side on the worktop. Her frustration boiled up. God knows, she’d never asked to be part of a love triangle. She’d once loved both of them, but now she didn’t know how she felt about either.
She now knew that Trev was trying to get back with her, and as for Matt – what did he want? If she truly wanted him to leave her alone, she would have to push him away and tell him straight out they could never be together.
She pressed the pedal on the bin and the lid flipped up; then she eased her foot off the pedal and shoved both items in the front pocket of her hoodie. From outside, she heard the insistent beep of the reversing alarm on the dustbin lorry.
It felt like a wake-up call to get rid of the letter and photo. Keeping them wasn’t helping her to get over the past or look to the future.
She hurried down the stairs with the photo and letter. The bin lorry was edging away from her bin, almost filling the width of her alley behind her flat. It had been emptied already. She was too late to throw them away …
She walked towards her bin and her heart stopped.
Because there was Eric, lying motionless in front of the bins. She knew there was no hope, even from a few feet away.
Poor Eric must have been scavenging in the road and then been run over by the dustbin lorry.
Zennor’s chest tightened so fiercely she thought she might pass out. A cry of anguish ripped from her chest in reaction to the losses that she’d suffered – and suppressed for so long.
She dashed in front of the bin lorry, waving her arms.
The brakes squealed.
The driver was swearing and a bin man jumped out. ‘What’s up, love? We almost ran you over!’
‘You’ve killed Eric! You’ve killed him!’
The man went white. ‘Christ! No! Where is he? Jesus.’ He clapped his hands to his face. ‘Where is he?’
‘Behind your lorry,’ Zennor wailed. ‘By the bins!’
The man raced around the back followed by the driver and two other men.
‘Where is he?’ one shouted. ‘Call an ambulance!’
‘No! No!’ Suddenly, Zennor realised what they thought and almost passed out in horror. ‘No, he’s not a person. He’s a—’ She burst into fresh tears of shame and grief. ‘He’s a seagull.’
A stunned silence was followed by a barrage of expletives. Then the first man said, ‘A bloody seagull?’
‘Yes,’ Zennor said and crouched down by the lifeless Eric. ‘And I’m sorry. I mean I am very sorry that you thought he was human but he was – kind of a pet.’
The other men walked back to the lorry, muttering and swearing, but the first man stayed.
‘I am sorry. It’s just – he used to visit my balcony and …’ She realised she sounded mad, sobbing over a creature reviled by so many people in the town.
‘A seagull? There are a lot of them around, love. They’re a nuisance, aren’t they?’ he said, though not unkindly.
‘No. They’re endangered and they have every right to live here – more right than us. Eric was just being – Eric. He didn’t deserve to die.’
‘But if he was scavenging, I suppose it was an occupational hazard,’ the man said reasonably.
‘Still, I’m sorry we didn’t spot him. We’d never have deliberately hurt him.
I love animals. We all have cats and dogs and Kevin, our driver, keeps budgies.
’ The bin man patted her back. ‘We get attached to animals, don’t we? ’
‘Yes. I didn’t realise I was but it’s been a – funny kind of day – and I am sorry.’ She stood up and sighed. ‘Please apologise to your colleagues on my behalf. They must have been absolutely horrified.’
‘We’ve had much worse days, love, so don’t worry about it.’ He glanced at Eric. ‘Look, do you want us to dispose of him – of Eric – for you?’
‘In a bin?’ Zennor said.
‘Unfortunately, that’s all we can do.’
She shook her head. ‘No, I can’t throw him in a bin. I need to bury him … but I live in a flat.’
‘OK … Well, I can put him in a strong sack and maybe you can … give him a funeral – somewhere else?’
‘I don’t know …’ She realised she had to hold on to Eric while she could. ‘OK. I will.’
The bin man nodded. ‘But dispose of him soon, won’t you?’
She nodded. ‘I will.’
The guy jogged back to his lorry, returned with a plastic sack and deposited Eric in it before handing him reverently to Zennor.
It took everything she could not to wail, It’s not just Eric. It’s everything. It’s Dad, it’s Trev, it’s Matt, it’s Sybil and I don’t know what I should do, or whether I should just jump in the car and leave the whole bloody lot of them to it.
Instead she said politely, ‘Thank you,’ and left it, resolving to leave them a generous Christmas tip if they ever deigned to empty her bins again.
Eric was surprisingly heavy and she trudged upstairs into the flat, leaving him on the hall floor. When she got inside, she realised she still had the letter and photo in the pocket of her hoodie.
‘And now we commend the soul of our dear, departed avian companion, Eric, to the Great Bird Deities in the sky. May he spend eternity nicking chips and scaring the shit out of large men in football shirts …’
Sybil raised her arms up to the blue skies above the garden at Rosemergy. ‘Fly free, Eric. Now, let us spend a few moments thinking of our feathered friend.’
Seconds later, Sybil turned to Zennor. ‘Was that the send-off you wanted?’
‘It was more than Eric would have expected.’
‘Probably more than he deserved,’ Sybil said. ‘I’m joking.’
Zennor sighed and wiped away a tear. ‘Yeah. My neighbours loathed him. Thanks for letting him have a corner of your garden. I can’t think of a better place.’
She’d taken the bin man’s advice and taken Eric round to Sybil’s the next morning. His resting place was marked by a collection of pebbles spelling out his name. Sybil had put him in a metal tin so he could remain undisturbed by foxes.
After his funeral, they walked down the garden back to the cottage. ‘I am so embarrassed about screaming at the bin men,’ Zennor said. ‘I almost gave them a heart attack.’
Sybil patted her arm. ‘I expect they’ve dealt with worse. Poor Eric … though he was lucky to have a neighbour like you.’
‘I didn’t do anything. I didn’t feed him. We just – co-existed – and let each other be.’
‘I’d say that was the best kind of friendship. No pressure, no expectations. I mean, Eric never invited you to a Tupperware party, did he? He never pressured you into going to some pretentious book club?’
‘No, though I do think Eric would have been a reader in another life.’ She shook her head. ‘Argh. I don’t know whether I’m laughing or crying.’
‘Hmm. Maybe both.’ Sybil smiled. ‘Look, my lovely. It’s been a big big time, a lot to contend with, and I do know what yesterday was …’
‘You do?’ Zennor said. She certainly hadn’t told Sybil about Trev.
‘Oh, yes. How could I forget?’ Sybil said and Zennor saw her friend’s own eyes glistening with tears. ‘How’s your mum? This must be a difficult time for her too.’
‘It’s always a horrible day. We spoke yesterday evening,’ Zennor said.
‘She’s going to come down in September when it’s quieter …
You should meet up.’ She wasn’t quite sure if she should have pushed the point but, for some reason, it had become a mission of hers to reunite her mother and Sybil.
Maybe she just wanted to salvage one of the relationships in her life, even if the others were chaotic.
‘If she wants to, of course I’d be delighted to see her,’ Sybil said.
‘Now, if we’re done weeping for the time being, come inside and tell me about this Surf Club party.
I’m sorry I can’t make it but I have a gig next Saturday.
I always seem to miss the most dramatic moments in your life – and Matt’s. ’
‘I hope it isn’t going to be dramatic,’ Zennor said with a sigh. ‘I hope it’s the most boring and uneventful evening I’ve ever spent.’