Epilogue
GRAHAM
Six months later …
Graham sits beneath the tree on a wooden bench he built himself. The branches above are mostly bare, but tiny spring buds are beginning to bloom, ready for another year. Sunrise is in precisely eleven minutes. He’s waiting for someone. They’ll be here soon.
Barney rests at his feet. The old dog doesn’t always manage the trip up the hill with him, but today is a special day. Graham has spent the past six months looking after the canine and has come to enjoy the warm, furry body on his lap of an evening. Just two old dogs, enjoying each other’s company.
The view is spectacular. He makes the journey to the top of the hill every single morning and evening without fail; rain or shine. It had been particularly difficult during the winter months, especially when two feet of snow made an appearance on Christmas morning, but it’s worth it.
It’s a very special place to be. Watching the sunrise and sunset has become his twice daily ritual.
Yes, there are times when he has to break it, like a couple of months ago when he succumbed to a nasty cold and then developed a stubborn chest infection that wouldn’t shift without blasted antibiotics, but otherwise, he makes the effort to visit the bench under the tree.
His overall health and fitness has improved (other than the cold and chest infection) thanks to his trips up the hill and his cutbacks on junk food and whisky. In general, Graham is feeling good.
The bench has turned out well, and is now showing the signs of wear and tear from the harsh Welsh weather. It’s often covered in dirt, fallen leaves and bird droppings, but Graham brushes it down and keeps it in decent condition.
Resting on his lap is a notepad and a pen, ready for when inspiration strikes. He closes his eyes and breathes in the cool air. Spring is well and truly here; the temperature rising with every passing day.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ says a friendly voice.
Graham opens his eyes as Barney jumps to his feet and greets the new arrival. ‘Not at all. In fact, by my watch, you’re right on time,’ replies Graham.
Sophia ruffles Barney’s head and kisses him before taking a seat. Barney leaps up and lays across her lap. ‘The bench has turned out great.’ She shifts slightly, careful not to disturb Barney and runs a finger over the small, gold plaque attached to the back of the bench.
In memory of Stephen Mallow and John Hammel.
Two souls. Two lives. Two incredible legacies.
‘Thank you,’ replies Graham with a sad smile.
‘How are you? You look very different than when I last saw you.’ Her face is fuller now, a bright spark to her eyes and she looks to have put on several pounds in body weight, making her look healthy and strong.
She’s chopped off her long hair, which had been limp and knotted when Graham had rescued her.
Now it’s cropped and shiny, shaved on one side above her ear.
Sophia faces forwards, staring at the view, at the sun beginning to crest over the horizon. She strokes Barney’s soft coat while she speaks, curling his long fur between her fingers. ‘I’ve been good. Therapy has been going well, and I’m ready to move back home.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. I’ve thought about it for a long time. I needed to get away and recover, but I’m ready to come back and try and take over the farm. I’m gutted I missed Mum’s funeral though.’
‘It was a lovely service. She’s in the graveyard when you’re ready to visit. I’ve been taking care of John’s grave and hers and your brother’s too.’
‘Thank you, Graham. I’m sorry about Stephen.’
Graham looks ahead at the now-rising sun, its yellow and orange hues cascading across the sky.
‘Thank you. He’s back in Cherry Hollow next to his girlfriend, Rachel.
The coroner said it wasn’t the loss of oxygen that killed him.
It was his brain tumour. I wrongly assumed that it was all in his head, especially since he’d been seeing things that weren’t really there.
I suppose I wasn’t ready to accept that I was going to lose another friend, so I believed it was something else that was causing him to see things. ’
‘I’ve read about Cherry Hollow. I’ve had a lot of time to read while I’ve been recovering. It sounds like an interesting town.’
‘That’s one way of describing it.’
‘There wasn’t anything you could have done,’ says Sophia. She’s carried a shoulder bag up with her and has put it on the ground. Shifting Barney ever so slightly, she reaches down and fetches a sketchpad and a pencil.
‘No, I suppose there wasn’t,’ replies Graham. ‘I think Stephen knew his time had come. He was never going to be able to outrun death. It’s one of those inevitable things we all have to come to terms with eventually, but I like to think he’s at peace now.’
Graham and Sophia share a smile. ‘I think he is,’ says Sophia. ‘He was a writer?’ She nods at the notebook in Graham’s hands.
‘Yes, a fine journalist. Rather skilled at finding out the truth behind a story.’
‘Is that what you’re doing now?’
Graham sighs. ‘It doesn’t happen every day, but I’m sure he’ll make an appearance when he’s ready. I feel like he has one more article left to write before he says goodbye.’
‘It freaked me out the first time it happened to me too,’ says Sophia, taking the pencil and pressing the tip against a blank page. She holds it there a moment, then, slowly, she begins to draw.
The sunrise is brightening the sky all around them now, warming the air. Graham closes his eyes, breathes in deep and exhales slowly, until his lungs are empty. He looks down at the writing pad, picks up his pen and begins to write.
Graham and Sophia sit in silence, channelling the spirits of the dead.
‘Nice of you to join me again, old friend,’ he says into the breeze as the light of a new day draws closer with every passing minute.