Chapter 35
35
On Sunday, the usual suspects plus Auntie Sue gathered at Georgia and Mark’s for a barbeque. The mild sunny weather was set to turn to rain by the end of the week so it made sense to make the most of it while we could.
Mum had been quite set in her ways about having a traditional roast dinner for Sunday lunch and I think it was easier on us all by making the first Sunday get-together since her death something different. Had we gone for the roast, there’d have been the formality of sitting around the dining table and being acutely aware that her usual chair was empty. Plus barbequing gave Dad a focus as he could never resist taking over as head chef.
After everyone finished eating, Dad proposed a toast to Mum and raised his glass towards the sky. ‘I know you’re looking down on us, June, and very likely tutting and rolling your eyes at the absence of the Sunday roast. We miss you and wish you were here.’
His toast led into an afternoon of sharing our favourite memories of Mum. There was a lot of laughter and some tears. Not from me, though. I kept telling myself I didn’t need to be strong and keep it all in in front of my family, but I knew that wasn’t the reason the tears stayed at bay. A lot of soul searching over the weekend had made me realise that I wasn’t just grieving for Mum – I was also grieving for Noah and everything I’d lost when he died. After seven years and four months of not dealing with any of those feelings, I was terrified of what would happen when the cork on my bottle of emotions was finally released.
I drove Dad back to Derwent Rise later that afternoon and joined him inside for a coffee.
‘It was really special hearing everyone’s memories today,’ Dad said when we sat down in the lounge with our drinks. ‘If June was watching us, she’d have loved it too.’
‘It was lovely how all our memories were so different.’
I glanced around the room, noticing that the carpet had been vacuumed, the surfaces polished and the cushions plumped. After Noah died, the last thing I’d felt like doing was cleaning, cooking or doing the laundry. If it hadn’t been for Flynn, the house would have been in complete disarray. It was a relief that Dad wasn’t letting everything slip like I had.
‘How are you finding being here without Mum?’
He sighed heavily and shook his head. ‘I keep thinking she’s just in bed or the bathroom and there’ll be a shout for help from her at any moment. I’ve called her name a few times and then I remember she’s not here and it hits me all over again. It’s going to take a long time to adjust.’
‘Have you had any more thoughts about staying here?’
‘I change my mind several times a day so I’m going to have to give it a lot of time. The last thing I want to do is rush to move out then regret it down the line.’
It was a hard relate to that.
‘Sounds sensible,’ I said. ‘Can I ask why Mum was so keen for you to stay?’
‘Because she loved this place so much. I told you that she looked at the view and wanted it no matter what it looked like inside. June was always practical and controlled about decisions – very much a head-over-heart woman – but on this occasion her heart took charge. We looked inside and it was a tip. All I could see was the hard work and expense, but June could see the vision. Complete role reversal for us. I grew to love the house but she was smitten from day one and I don’t think she could bear the thought of anyone except us living here.’
‘You will do what’s right for you, though?’ I said. ‘Even if that does mean going against Mum’s wishes.’
‘I will. Don’t you worry about me.’
‘I can’t help it.’
I gave him the silence he needed to steer the conversation where he wanted.
‘This might seem like a strange thing to say,’ he said after several minutes passed, ‘but I’m glad it was June who went first. I’d rather it was me shouldering the pain of life without her than the other way round and, this way, she did get her wish to stay here until the end. If I’d gone first, she couldn’t have stayed unless she had a live-in carer. She couldn’t bear the thought of a stranger moving in with her so that wasn’t an option. She’d therefore have had double the heartbreak of losing me and our home.’
‘Flynn and I had a few conversations about what to do if something happened to one of us. He used to say he hoped he went first because…’ I tailed off, not sure why I was sharing this with Dad.
‘Go on,’ he said, his voice and expression encouraging.
‘He hoped he’d go first because he didn’t think he’d be able to live without me.’ He’d also said I was the strong one but, when it came to us being tested by death, albeit not our own, I’d been the weak one and he’d been the one who’d held it all together.
We sat in silence for a while again, sipping on our coffees.
‘Do you believe Mum’s looking down on us?’ I asked. ‘You’re not a Christian.’
‘I don’t think you need to follow any sort of religion to believe in – or want to believe in – there being something after death. Is there such a thing as heaven? No idea. Is it more about that person’s love being so strong that they leave an energy behind? Or is it simply that we don’t want to let go so we like to think there’s something which allows them to be with us even if they physically can’t be?’
He tilted his head and his brow furrowed. ‘You’re not a Christian either. What did you believe after Noah passed?’
‘I don’t know. Something. I couldn’t accept that that was it for him, especially when he died so young.’ I tried to swallow that dratted ever-present lump in my throat. ‘D’you know what I really wanted? I wanted him to haunt me – to come back as a ghost and tell me what happened or, if he couldn’t speak, to somehow convey to me that he was okay.’ My eyes were burning once more as I added in a small voice, ‘But he never did.’
‘I wish he had been able to bring you that peace.’
Several more minutes passed before Dad said, ‘I’m sure your mum visited me the night we lost her.’
I sat forward, eyes wide. ‘You saw her?’
‘Not quite. You know that feeling when you’re in bed and someone sits down at the other side and you feel the mattress dip? I woke up feeling that and I could smell her perfume really strongly. It wasn’t on the bedding because Georgia and Mark had changed it for me. I strained my eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of her but I couldn’t see anything so I spoke to her, asked if she was okay, told her I missed her and was sorry I hadn’t said goodbye. This sudden feeling of warmth flowed through me and I heard her voice saying, But you told me you loved me and that’s all I needed to hear. Next I knew, it was morning and time to get up. I’ve no idea whether she really did speak or whether that was her voice in my head, but I slept so soundly those few hours and I’m convinced that was thanks to June.’
I pressed my hand to my throat, feeling quite overcome with emotion. How much peace might I have felt if something similar had happened to me?
‘I’m so happy for you that you had that experience,’ I said. ‘Will you tell Georgia?’
‘I don’t know. What do you think?’
I’d always been vocal about my belief in ghosts. You don’t work in as many historical buildings as I had without hearing stories and seeing a few unexplained things yourself. Georgia, on the other hand, was stoic in her belief that there was no such thing.
‘It’s a tricky one. It might comfort her but it could just as easily upset her a lot. Maybe play that one by ear but just say if you want me to sound her out about the idea.’
‘Thanks. I’ll have a think about it.’
‘Did I tell you I’ve seen a ghost?’
I told him about a conversion project I’d worked on a couple of years ago in an abandoned former cotton mill in Northumberland. It was reputed to be haunted by a young boy and girl who’d tragically died in an industrial accident as well as the mother of the boy who roamed the building looking for her child.
‘I felt something as soon as I entered the building. I didn’t feel any danger – more of an overwhelming sense of sadness. I never saw the children but I saw the mum twice. She was wearing a black dress and wringing her hands as she looked left and right. The first time, it was brief and she was in the distance, but the second time she was closer and I swear she looked straight at me. We both stood there for ages and then she just disappeared.’
‘Did your colleagues see anything?’
‘Just me.’
‘I wonder if you saw her because you’d lost your son too.’
I stared at Dad wide-eyed. ‘I can’t believe I never thought of that but it would make a lot of sense.’
That thought was still with me when I returned to Willowdale Hall a little later. Had our shared experience – our shared pain – of losing our sons somehow connected us? I loved that I’d seen a ghost and it felt even more special now because of that connection, although I’d rather Noah had visited me than some stranger from the past. He could have given me some answers.
I shook my head. Answers. Why did it keep coming back to that? Why did I keep torturing myself when there were no answers? I couldn’t go down that road again. I’d made great progress since coming back to Willowdale and that was the route I needed to take. Let go, heal, move on.