Chapter 40
Ember
I watched my screen light up as I turned the device on for the first time in a few days. It’s weird, as a teenager you always think your phone is something that you can’t possibly live without. It might as well be a vital organ. However, recently, I hadn’t found myself missing it at all. I mean, it gave me ample time to bosh out my final assignments, I was now officially free from the chokehold of education! (well, only for about a month until second year started…), but I didn’t even find myself caving. Now, in my spare time, I began slowly making my way through mount Everest, Aka, my Tbr pile of books, and spending more time with mum and Allegra. We chatted, baked, painted, watched endless reality TV and you know what, it was bliss. A phone detox if you will. However, that blissful feeling was soon replaced with a sharp clench in my stomach as I saw I’d received 10 missed calls from Arthur with multiple voicemails, 5 missed calls from Poppy, accompanied by an endless string of texts from her and Amy. Arthur had clearly got my letter then. I pushed out a deep exhale with the realisation that he now knew how I felt about him. Even though they obviously wanted to talk, I just don’t think I was ready for that yet. A huge part of me was embarrassed, especially knowing that they’ve all seen me in a light that they never knew they would. I didn’t want them to think differently of me, I wanted them to know that I was still the same person that I always was. But how could I expect them to look at me in the same way after everything? If I were in their position, I’d be wary around me too. I’m not even saying this for sympathy or woe-is-me points, I just don’t know if I can see myself slotting into their circle anymore.
“You don’t know unless you give them a chance,” Allegra says, walking into my room with a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies.
“Wait- how did you?,” I ask, confused. “Have you secretly been able to read minds all this time? Oh my god, can I read minds too? Actually, I don’t want to know,” I say grabbing a cookie from the plate.
She giggles, “I’m not a mind reader, no. You said it out loud as I walked in. Thought you were reading a story at first.”
Was I going so insane that I didn’t even know when words were coming out of my own mouth now? I didn’t need any other worries, so I shook my head of the thoughts and chowed down on the chocolatey-goodness. “Sooo good!,” I moan through a mouthful, chunks of cookies flying everywhere.
“Well I’m glad you like them,” she laughs. “So, I was thinking. I know you’ve sent the letter and you’re choosing not to speak to any of your friends right now, but there’s someone I think you should see.”
I swallow down the remainder of the pastry before sporting a confused, “who?” I couldn’t think of anyone else back home who I wanted to talk to. I lost contact with practically all of my friendship group from school, ‘friends forever’ my ass.
Her face turns more serious now, “…your dad.”
My heart ached. Talking about dad was never a sore subject, we always made sure to talk about him in order to try and keep his memory alive, but visiting him, was something I always brushed off. I’d only visited him the once, and that was hard enough. Whenever mum mentioned it, I made excuse after excuse. To be honest, it just felt uncomfortable. He wasn’t even in there. His headstone was, but he’d actually been cremated and we’d taken a short holiday to Vienna, to scatter his ashes in the Vienna woods. It’s the place where he practiced most of his magic before they were all forced to flee, we thought it was only fitting to have him reclaim that space, even if only in spirit. It just didn’t feel right. Graveyards always made me feel uneasy anyway, like the dead were just going to reanimate and burst out of the soil, ready to be fought like in Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
“I can tell you’re thinking of an excuse again,” Allegra says with a faint laugh.
I sigh. “You know I find it hard.”
“I get that. I do too. But it’s good to do things that make us uncomfortable sometimes. I’ll be with you if you’re worried about being on your own,” she reassures calmly.
Biting my lips, I say, “okay.”
“Great. You never know, it might help you to ask your dad for some advice right now.”
My eyes roll into the back of my head, “he’s not even in there.”
Allegra’s smile reaches her eyes, “Ember, you should know by now that it doesn’t matter where a person is physically. So long as they’re forged in our hearts, we’ll always have a way of reaching them.”
She was right. I needed to do this, and who knows, maybe dad would be able to help. Even if it wasn’t in the way that I was expecting.
◆◆◆
When we pull up at the graveyard, I immediately hear crows squawking in the distance and I’m worried that it’s some sort of bad omen. Well, either that or the crow was going to choose a headstone of someone in here to resurrect in order for them to complete their unfinished business for one night only…God, I was starting to sound like Arthur.
Stop quoting movies at inappropriate times, Ember.
It was the nerves, I think. The sky was a blank canvas of baby blue, there were no clouds to be seen, and it was actually quite mild outside, about as mild as the UK was going to get in the summer anyway. So plenty of reasons to be calm and collected. Allegra and mum were here anyway, so it’s not like I was at risk of falling 6ft under. I notice my grip is sweaty as I open the door, leaving greasy fingerprints all over the handle. Noticing my obvious discomfort, mum and Allegra edge over to me and hook their arms in mine.
“We’ve got this,” mum says with a reassuring squeeze of my arm.
“That we do,” Allegra echoes. We then head over to the large grey gate, heave it open and stride through.
It’s strange, I’ve always had this intense fear and unease surrounding graveyards, but today it seemed…tranquil. There were choruses of birds chirping, the breeze was gentle and featherlight, Oak Trees stood grand and firm, surrounding the graves like ancient protectors. I didn’t feel scared. Granted, I still felt sad, but it was more of a reflective and nostalgic sadness, the one you get when going to Antique shops, where you find things like family photo albums, teddy bears and old tapes, and you think to yourself, why has something so sentimental been shipped away, what happened to the original owners? There was something rather bittersweet about the people who lay here too. I saw graves of children who were eternally infant and thought to myself, why didn’t they get more time when others get 100? But then, simultaneously, whether or not you believe in spirits or life beyond the grave, we can agree that everyone here is eternally peaceful.
“Over here, remember?,” mum says softly, taking my hand and guiding me to him. I’m now stood face-to-face with the Grey marble headstone, some wilted Red tulips accompanying it that mum replaces with a fresh batch. I stare in shock at the words I’ve read before.
Here lies Ambrose Hallow.
A loving husband, father, and son.
He’s been gone for over 2 years now, I know that. But I guess you get good at kidding yourself when you’re grieving. You pretend that they’re merely on holiday, only to return very soon, armed with luggage and souvenirs from their travels. You expect a postcard plastered with stamps and photos from the beach through your letterbox saying, ‘wish you were here!’ It’s times like those that make seeing the grave feel like a punch to the gut, acting as a stark reminder that they’re never coming back. I think it’s because the idea of continuing to exist in the world, the same world in which they worked a normal job and prayed for the weekend, the same world in which their throat hummed as they poured that first drop of alcohol on a Friday night, or took that first warming sip of tea on a freezing Monday morning, the same world in which they once belly laughed and furiously loved, only to be torn from it, was an incredibly difficult pill to swallow. It really hits home that it may just be any mundane Tuesday for you, but for them, it’s the luxury of mundanity that they will never experience again.
“Do you want a moment with him?,” Allegra whispers, “it’s absolutely fine if not, your mum and I will stay put.”
I think about it for a second before deciding that perhaps this is what I need. I’ve been avoiding it for so long and I’d already taken the first step by setting foot here, I might as well continue to be brave now. “yes please,” I reply through a whisper. Mum and Allegra take a wander down the pathway, looking at the wildflowers as I crouch down next to the headstone.
“Hi dad,” I say awkwardly. “Uhm- I don’t know how to do this- sorry that I haven’t visited in so long it’s just been-well-hard.” I feel the emotions building up in my throat with every word. Abruptly changing the subject I chime, “I’ve just finished my first year at uni, it’s looking like I’m going to finish the year with a 2.1 in Psychology which is great!.” I smile, “I know you’d be proud of me regardless, but I need to talk to you about something.”
Someone walks past me and I’m hyperaware that I sound like a crazy person, asking a piece of stone for advice. But they keep on walking, carrying a huge bouquet of sunflowers that they then come to a stop and place on one of the smaller headstones. One of the children’s ones. I immediately shift my attention away, no one in here cares if you’re talking to a grave, I think we’re all in a mutual understanding that this isn’t the kind of place for judgment. I clear my throat and continue, “I made a mistake dad. I fell for a guy; he was in a really dark place and I wanted to help him more than anything. I stole your books and performed a luck spell. I thought it was an amazing idea at first, but then suddenly everything went wrong….” My verbal diarrhoea takes the reigns and I explain everything. If he were here right now, I know exactly what he’d do. He’d likely tell me to shut up so he could think for a minute. I snort at the thought. But then, he’d put his arms around me and give me the most magnificent advice that he could, packed full of optimism and wisdom. Taking a deep inhale, I put my hands over my eyes. Although I felt somewhat better for relaying this all out in the open, my heart was uneasy, nervously awaiting a response that it knew was never coming. “Well,” I say, slapping my thighs and crouching to stand up, “it was good to talk to you again dad, I miss you and love you always,” I blow a kiss and turn around to go and meet mum and Allegra. It’s then that I stop in my tracks. The breeze had picked up, only for a second, and blown a colourful leaflet, landing softly on my feet. I guffaw, fully expecting to find a ‘you can be saved!’ Christian leaflet trying to rope me into coming to a Sunday service, when I suddenly notice the colourful pictures splattering the front.
Be brave. Ignite the spark. After all, in order to enjoy lightness, we must first have the dark.
My hands tremble as I gently trace the words on the page. It’s an old advert, dated back in November for a firework display. Could this be a sign from the universe? A sign from…dad? My heart starts hammering in my chest as I run towards mum and Allegra, clutching onto the leaflet as I go.
“Look!,” I shout.
They both turn around in unison, “what’s wrong?,” they say, faces full of panic.
I can barely catch my breath, so I resort to shoving the leaflet in their hands first.
“Ember, it’s not bonfire night for another 6 months, mum tuts.
My head begins manically shaking, “no, I know that” I lick the dryness from my lips, “I told dad everything. Obviously, I knew that he wouldn’t respond, but I really wanted him to. I needed him to.”
A wave of empathy washes over both of their faces as they hear me say that.
“But you know, I accepted that wasn’t going to happen. So I got up to leave. Almost immediately after that, the wind blew this leaflet directly onto my shoes,” I could see that they weren’t quite putting two and two together as I formulated my argument. “Don’t you see?,” I said, desperately pointing to the piece of paper. “Fireworks. Look at the quote on the front!”
As if the lightbulb suddenly illuminates, they both put their hands over their mouths in shock.
“I know I might sound crazy, but I think it’s a sign. I think it’s dad’s way of telling me what to do next. To be brave. To ignite the spark,” I insist.
Mum nods with a teary smile, “that’s definitely something that he would say.” I could tell that she was filling with emotions and nostalgia as she remembered the firework display that dad created for her all those years ago. The day he revealed his true self and connected with her on a level that no one thought possible. A core memory that had it not happened, I might not have been here to tell the tale.
Allegra, eyes prickling, says, “if you needed a sign that he’s always with you, I’d say that’s the biggest one yet.”
I smile, feeling incredibly more reassured than when I first walked in here. “I need to go back.”
“To Bath?,” mum questions.
“No mum, to Timbuktu- of course Bath!,” I squeal.
They both chuckle.
“I know I’ve sent him a letter, but I need to see him. I don’t want him to go back home and it be too late,” I panic, pacing around the path. I realise that I’d already been cryptic enough, pouring my heart out in a letter to him, my feelings well and truly out in the open. Only to then ignore his calls, well, everyone’s. I realised that I was so caught up worrying that they wouldn’t give me a second chance, that I hadn’t even noticed that maybe I wasn’t giving them one either.
Grabbing the keys from her handbag, Allegra chirps, “well, what are you waiting for? Let’s get a move on.” She starts running, her keys jingling with every step, mum and I can barely catch up.
“Allegra it’s fine! The bus and train are really frequent,” I reassure, more worried that she’s going to do her hip in by sprinting like that.
“Who said anything about public transport?,” she feigns confusion. “What do you say we have a ladies road trip to Bath?,” finally letting out a smirk.
“Let’s get you your love!,” mum shrieks happily. Colour me surprised. I hadn’t seen this side of her in ages, fun, exuberant, mad. It used to be the side dad brought out in her, and clearly, he was wasting no time sneaking his influence in once again, even from beyond the grave. I definitely wasn’t complaining though, she deserved happiness.
As we got in the car, and Allegra turned the ignition, I felt immersed with a newfound courage as I relayed the words.
Be Brave. Ignite the Spark.
I just hoped that I hadn’t missed the opportunity.