Chapter 6
6
JE NE REGRETTE RIEN – EXCEPT SIMON
I suppose a tiny part of me feels sorry for Simon as three pairs of eyes turn to look at him and he spots that one of those pairs belongs to me. I see the colour drain from his face to the point that lovely Kitty looks positively glowing with vitality in comparison.
‘I didn’t think…’ he begins, which could pretty much sum up everything you need to know about my ex-husband. ‘I was just trying to lighten the mood a bit.’
‘It’s my mother’s wake,’ Laura says, through gritted teeth. ‘We don’t need any mood lightening.’ I’m glad it’s she who has spoken and not me because I might not have been so polite. But then again, I’ve not remained besties with Simon for the past ten years, while it seems Laura has.
Simon and I function on a strictly need-to-know basis; that is, we are in touch with each other when, and only when, we need to be to discuss some issue in relation to our boys. The last time we had any contact with each other was before the boys left for university, to make final arrangements for their financial support, and I’m absolutely okay with that. He’s not someone whose company I particularly enjoy – which is probably part of the reason it hurt so much when Laura chose him over me. Was I really that unsufferable? The thought nips at me and I have to push it down. My friend is in pain. She needs me. She clearly recognises that Simon can be a gobshite at times. I don’t have to say a word. He is hoisting himself by his own petard and I have ringside seats.
‘Sorry,’ he blurts, his pallor now replaced by a fiery red glow of embarrassment. ‘I didn’t think I’d find Rebecca and Niamh here.’
I bet he didn’t. I feel Niamh take my hand and squeeze it tightly – a friendly reminder to keep my cool.
‘We just wanted to pay our respects,’ I say. ‘Kitty was a great lady. A real friend to us.’
‘She was, for sure. There’s no doubt Kitty will be greatly missed,’ he says in a sombre voice that screams am-dram enthusiast. There’s a lack of authenticity to him that irks me. Everything about him is a performance. Even grief.
‘We wanted to offer our support to Laura,’ Niamh says.
‘That’s very thoughtful,’ he says, and I want to tell him we didn’t come here for his approval. This has absolutely nothing to do with him. It’s infuriating to me that his very presence can get under my skin this way. I feel Niamh squeeze my hand once again and I glance at Laura who looks more than a little uncomfortable. Now is clearly not the time to start digging into the train wreck that was my relationship with Simon.
I notice the faces of a few mourners popping in through the doorway – checking if the big emotional reunion is over and they are safe to re-enter the room. It seems like the perfect opportunity to grab onto to make our departure.
‘We were just going anyway,’ I say and Laura blinks at me through watery eyes.
‘You haven’t even had a cup of tea,’ she says.
‘You know me – not a big tea drinker,’ I tell her. ‘And I don’t want to steal the attention from your wonderful mum. But we’ll be there at the funeral. Unless you prefer we didn’t come?’
‘Please do,’ she says, grabbing my hand and squeezing. ‘It would mean a lot to Mammy and to me too. I think I need my girls,’ she says.
‘Then we’ll be there, won’t we, Niamh?’
Niamh nods. ‘Of course we will. And if you need anything, just get in touch. You can find us on Facebook.’
‘I can pass on Rebecca’s number,’ Simon, who clearly hasn’t got the message that he’s about as welcome as a fart in a lift, says. Maybe I should thank him for his offer, but I’m not feeling particularly generous towards him.
Laura nods. ‘Mammy really thought the world of you both,’ she says. ‘She hated that we’d grown apart. She’ll definitely be smiling down at us now.’ We all glance skyward as if there’s a chance we really will see Kitty smiling down from her heavenly cloud. Of course we can’t.
‘We’ll see you tomorrow,’ I say, and Niamh and I make our way towards the door – where Simon is lingering. I nod in his direction but don’t speak, not until I see Conal again. ‘We’ll be there tomorrow,’ I call to him. ‘Mind yourself, and mind Laura.’
He gives me a sad smile. ‘I will.’
‘Well, that didn’t go as badly as I thought it might,’ Niamh says as she drives me back home.
‘It could’ve been worse,’ I agree. ‘Bloody Simon didn’t help. But I’m glad we went for Laura. And her mum of course.’
‘And Conal?’ Niamh asks as she raises one eyebrow.
‘Keep your eyes on the road,’ I scold. I will not be drawn into any discussion about Conal O’Hagan and the crush I refuse to publicly admit I had on him a long time ago.
‘I believe he’s single,’ Niamh says. ‘Divorced a couple of years back. Not that you’d be interested in hearing that.’
‘Quite,’ I say, my gaze firmly on the road ahead, refusing to acknowledge the warm feeling that information gives me. We drive in silence for a minute or two.
‘It’s sad though,’ Niamh says. ‘Kitty being gone. First there was your daddy…’
The mention of my father does what it always does – it blanks out all other noise and every other thought. It brings a fresh wave of grief. I do not want to talk about him. Not because I don’t care, but because I care too much. It’s too raw. The pain is too great. I don’t know if it will ever feel anything but raw. If the mention that he is gone will ever not feel like a kick in the stomach. I don’t want Niamh to continue down this particular conversational path. Kitty may be fair game for our chat, but I don’t want to think about my father. Or about how this is what will mark the second half of our lives – loss and grief becoming a more and more regular occurrence. It’s not a happy conversation or a positive train of thought to get caught on. Generally, it makes me cry, drink too much wine and eat too many Kettle crisps, and subsequently feel as if my own demise is only a matter of moments away for the next few days as my body recovers.
‘I found our old time capsule,’ I blurt, knowing it will shift the focus from my least favourite topic of conversation quickly.
‘No way!’ Niamh exclaims. ‘Where? Oh my God! You still had it? I’d forgotten about that! Have you opened it? Is it super cringe?’ Her previously sombre tone of voice has been replaced by a giddiness. I can’t help but smile.
‘No, I’ve not opened it. I only found it this morning when I went to see my mum. Truth be told, I’d forgotten about it too but then we got to talking about Kitty, and what we were like when we were younger, and I remembered our summer projects.’
‘Oh Jeez, super cringe,’ Niamh laughs. ‘Do not ever tell any of my children about that. I’ll never live it down. We were such gacks. Did you find the other stuff too? The magazine and all those awful drawings of awful clothes?’
I shake my head. ‘Nope, just the time capsule. I think that’s cringe-worthy enough.’
‘God, what age were we when we put that together?’ Niamh asks. ‘Fourteen or fifteen, maybe?’
‘Sixteen,’ I say. ‘Well, the box says 1994, and I know we made it in the summer holidays so… we’d all have been sixteen. Laura might even have been seventeen.’
‘I can’t imagine any of mine taking the time to make a time capsule at sixteen,’ she says. ‘Definitely not cool.’
‘We were never cool,’ I say with a laugh. I used to be mortified at my lack of coolness in my teenage years. I don’t know why. It’s not like I eventually reached a cool stage at any subsequent age. I’ve made my peace with that now.
‘We were cool in our own way,’ Niamh says.
‘Being able to do the full rap from “Shocked” by Kylie Minogue doesn’t count, Niamh,’ I reply with a smile.
‘I still know every word,’ she says and for a moment I’m tempted to launch into it and see if she joins in. But then I remember I’m sober and forty-six.
There’s another pause in conversation as we turn into my street. ‘Will you open it?’ Niamh asks as she pulls the car over outside my house.
‘The time capsule? Probably,’ I tell her. ‘But it would feel weird to open it on my own. I mean, I know we put a lot of stupid mementos in it but if I remember correctly, we all put some personal things in too. Hopes and dreams kind of stuff. It doesn’t feel like mine to open in a lot of ways.’
‘Then we should open it together,’ Niamh says. ‘You and me, and maybe Laura too. If she wants to. If it’s not too awkward.’ I know what she means. I’m not na?ve enough to think a quick hug over the top of a coffin will erase all the hurt of the last decade. It was a nice start but it might never be more than that.
‘Yeah,’ I agree. ‘It would be nice if we were all there together. I’ll not open it until we’ve spoken to Laura about it first.’
We make arrangements for going to the funeral together and say our goodbyes. I’m just about to open the car door to get out when Niamh reaches over for a hug. ‘I know nothing about that was easy for you,’ she says. ‘So I just wanted to give you a hug and tell you I love you and you’re the best friend a girl could want. Will you be okay? On your own? I have to get back to the younger ones. Paul is working and Jodie’s staying up at college in Belfast this weekend, but you’re welcome to come with me if you can stand it. The boys will probably just hide in their rooms and shout at the Xbox, but Fiadh is very good at hugs and making you feel good about yourself.’
At seven, Fiadh was the surprise later-in-life baby none of us, especially not Niamh and Paul, expected, but she had very quickly become one of my favourite people in the entire universe.
‘I’d love to,’ I tell Niamh, the thought of a Fiadh super-hug warming my heart. ‘But Daniel has been sick and I want to keep a wee eye on him. If anything happens to him while the boys are in Manchester, my life won’t be worth living.’
Niamh smiles. ‘No worries. I understand.’ And maybe she does, but I know I’ve not really been honest with her either. If anything happened to Daniel it would kill me . He’s my sole company on many a day and the one creature on this planet who is always happy to see me.
‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ I tell her before she drives off and I walk up the garden path to my home and the sound of Daniel barking enthusiastically at my return. I think I’ll let him sleep at the end of my bed tonight. Again.