by Mary Jaine
Somehow, after fumbling and dropping her phone a half-dozen times, Yaz managed to call Shari, but then she broke down, and all I could do was shout down the phone at her to come home now, mum needed her, please hurry, please...
Shari arrived at a dead run, she threw herself on mum and kissed her cheek, rubbed her hands, called her endlessly, the desperate, raw panic adding an edge to her voice, while we waited for the ambulance, but to no avail. When the paramedics arrived, they quickly took stock of the situation, but all their equipment failed to register anything, no heartbeat, no pulse, no brain activity, nothing. When the lead paramedic called it, and told Shari that they'd agreed the time of death as almost three hours earlier, not long after we'd all left for work, in fact, her scream of anguish nearly deafened me, while Yaz collapsed sobbing into my arms. I was trembling with reaction and loss and in no better shape than Yaz, but I had to be strong for her, Shari was an island of grief, isolated and tense, as they carefully wrapped mum and put her into the ambulance, then she climbed into the ambulance to go with mum to the hospital.
The paramedics were professional but kind and sympathetic with it, leaving the paperwork with Yaz and me, and an apology that, because mum hadn't been under the care of a doctor when she passed, they would have to report her passing as an unexplained death, which meant there would have to be a post-mortem, when we arrived at the hospital the bereavement aftercare team would walk us through what came next, and liaise with the people who would help us through this.
I was only half-paying attention; all I knew was that mum had died alone, that she'd been alone when she'd needed us most, that there was no-one with her to hold her in her last moments, and the guilt was rampaging and shrieking huge and terrifying inside me; she'd died alone, if I'd been with her, maybe I could have got her some help, and that was the thing that hurt most deeply; that maybe I could have done something if only I'd been there for her, but now I'd never know. They'd taken mum away, my mum had only just become my mum and she'd been taken from me, from us, she was dead, and what did we do now, she was our everything, what happened to our family now?
*
I called a cab and Yaz and I made our way to the hospital. Shari was waiting for us, they'd taken mum away and started the process for getting the post-mortem underway, not something any of us wanted to consider, but the bereavement counsellors sat us down and told us what came next. I was barely paying attention, and Yaz was completely out of it, while Shari sat, completely expressionless while the people talked at us, but what they said was just background noise and made no sense to me; I'd never been in this situation before and I was in pieces, as was Yaz, and I only vaguely remember them calling us a cab and arriving home. Once we got back indoors, Shari's control evaporated and she began crying hysterically, Yaz was in no better state, and I didn't know what to do to try and soften the edge of this nightmare, all I could do was hold my sisters and cry with them and want my mum back.
We passed the rest of the day in numb silence; I didn't know what to say, and both Yaz and Shari seemed lost in their own world, they drank whatever I put in front of them, ate mechanically, looked at me with blank, unseeing eyes, and just drifted through the rest of the day silent, noiseless, not making even the merest sound to break the ringing silence. I had never felt so alone; the two people I loved most in the world had retreated into a shell and I wasn't allowed in, I was grief-stricken with no-one to share it with, and I really thought I would go mad with the loss I felt and no-one to help me through it.
By the time it got dark they still hadn't moved or made a sound, just stared unseeing, so I led both girls to their rooms, sat them down on their beds, pulled off their shoes and made them lie down and covered them, still fully dressed, with their coverlets, tiptoed down to my room, and cried myself to sleep.
*
Waking that first morning was the worst thing I'd ever experienced; for the first few seconds I was at peace, then memory came flooding in, and with memory came pain, and loss, and deep, crushing sadness; our lives had changed forever, she was gone, and what happened to us now? The house was still silent, sombre, and there was no sign of Shari or Yaz, so I wandered around aimlessly, at a complete looses end. Eventually, I found myself staring at the couch in the sitting room, at the place mum had passed away, the seat cushions and throw cushions still in disarray where first the three of us and then the paramedics had tried to revive mum. I began straightening them up, when Shari spoke behind me.
"What the hell are you doing? How dare you, how fucking dare you!!?"
I spun around and she was standing there, her face a mask of fury.
"You don't touch anything in this house, you got it? My mother's dead because of your bastard piece of shit father, your whole fucking family killed her, you piece of shit, and you have the sheer fucking effrontery to go touching ...? Get out! Get the fuck out of my house, Mummy would still be here but for your fucking father, and now you go touching her stuff? I never wanted you here, mummy took pity on you, you pathetic fucking nobody, she took you in like a stray dog and now she's dead and you're still here, so get out! We gave you a home and all the time we were harbouring a fucking snake, I was right all along, I knew this would happen, you're a piece of shit like your piece of shit father, you wormed your way in here and made us trust you, and now she's gone and it's all because of your dogshit family. Get out, now! You came here with nothing, that's how you leave, get the fuck out, go die somewhere far away, I hope you do, your family did this to us! You heard me, you don't belong here, get the fuck out!!"
I was rocked back by the blast of hate coming from her, and the venom in her voice, and horrified at what she was saying; was this what she really thought of me, what she'd always thought of me? Tears pricked my eyes as I turned to run downstairs to my room (although according to her it wasn't 'my' room, it was just a kennel they'd kept a stray dog in) and get my jacket, she wanted me out, it was her house, I had no choice, I had to leave.
She was waiting for me at the top of the stairs, her face twisted with hate.
"Don't you ever, ever show your face here again, you understand?" she gritted, "This is not your home, and you're not part of this family, your family are killers and fucking losers, so Get. The. Fuck. Out! Now!"
She stalked over to the front door and yanked it open, pointing outside.
"Get out!"
I was almost out the door when I heard Yaz scream.
"Ricky, no! Where are you going, no, come back here, don't leave!"
I turned to her and shook my head, trying to say everything I was feeling, but I didn't need to, because suddenly she was hugging me, holding me around the waist and pulling me, dragging me, away from the open door.
"No, you can't go, we need you, I need you, please Ricky, don't listen to her, stay here, stay with me, please!"
"I have to, Yaz, this is not my home, and I have to leave!" I choked out, and Yaz turned her tear-stained face up at me, crying and babbling at the same time.
"You can't go, don't listen to her, this is your home, we are your family, you're one of us, and we need you; mummy loved you, she wanted you, she loved you too, you're my brother, this is your home, this is your family, please don't go, please don't leave me!"
"Yasmin..." Shari began, and Yaz rounded on her.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" she screamed, rocking Shari back on her heels, before burying her face in my chest and crying great wracking sobs that made her whole body shudder. I wrapped my arms around her, patting her back and stroking her hair, trying to calm her down so I could leave with whatever little dignity I could muster. I tried to hand her off to Shari, but she grabbed hold of me even tighter, refusing to let me go.
"No, you're not going anywhere, I won't let you!" she sobbed, but I had to go. Now I knew how little I meant to this family, what Shari really thought of me, I couldn't stay, there was no place for me here. I managed to unhook Yasmin's arms from around my waist and handed her to Shari, who held her tightly as she struggl
ed to get away, crying hysterically as she struggled.
"No Ricky, please don't go, don't leave us...!" she begged, her voice thick with emotion, while tears streamed down her cheeks.
I turned to leave, and Shari called out to me.
"Ricky..."
I turned around, and she was crying, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Ricky, please don't go, don't leave us..." she whispered, "I'm sorry, I...I'm sorry, please don't go, we need you..."
Yaz tore herself away from Shari and launched herself at me, cannoning into me and sending me into the wall, which I slid down with her kneeling on top of me, her arms locked around my neck.
"Never going anywhere, Ricky, not without me!" she moaned, before punching me in my arms, on my shoulders, drumming on my chest with her clenched fists, which didn't hurt, to be honest; being attacked by Yaz was kind of like being mauled by a kitten; lots of intent, no real ability.
"Don't you even think about leaving us again, ever, you understand? You frightened me, Ricky, don't ever do that again! This is your home, got it? This is your home, we are your family, and you're one of us, no if's, but's, or and's, got it?"
I hugged her close, feeling her relax and hug me back, and I was so glad Shari couldn't see her kissing my chest as she hugged me.
Shari knelt down next to us on the floor and took my hand.
"I'm so sorry, Ricky, I don't know...I had no right to say those terrible, hateful things to you, my head is so...you didn't do anything wrong, and I was such a bitch, and you didn't deserve any of it. Please forgive me, I was so out of line I'll understand if you want to call me names, give me back some of what I gave you. You ARE my little brother, this IS your family, this IS your home, I was so wrong when I said you didn't belong here, you do, you'll always be a part of us, you're our brother and your place is here, with us."
She paused to rub her streaming eyes with her fingertips, before reaching out to gently stroke my cheek.
"Please don't go; we need you to be here with us, it's going to be so hard from now on, we need to be a family to get through it. I need you, Yaz needs you, and you need both of us; it's what mummy wanted. When she brought you into this family she made you one of us, and we're not letting you go; mummy wanted us to be strong together, so that's what we're going to be, we'll get through this, and we'll still be a family when it's over. Can you ever forgive me, Ricky? Please Ricky? I'm so sorry..."
I took her hand and kissed her palm, making her smile through her tears.
"It's OK Shari, really. I won't leave my sisters alone now, not when they need me..." I murmured, still emotionally shattered by what had happened, at the things she'd said to me, but then I gasped as she hugged me as hard was Yaz was doing, squeezing the breath out of me.
"I'm so sorry, Ricky, I'll make it up to you somehow..." she smiled, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks, her smile widening when I reached up and thumbed her eyes dry.
"Don't worry about it, Shari, I understand, I miss her too, she was the first..." But I couldn't finish, because the tears came and both my sisters hugged me as I cried like a baby, all the loss and guilt, and sheer horror at losing her in such a random way, the first person I'd ever loved, my brand-new mum, rising-up and slamming into me.
*
Somehow, the three of us made it back to the sitting room, but I couldn't sit down anywhere, not the couch she'd passed away on, her last resting place, because when I looked at it all I could see was her lying there, and remember how I couldn't wake her and how scared I was for her, and how guilty I felt because I couldn't wake her, because I couldn't stop her leaving us. I couldn't sit in her favourite armchair, with her silver-headed cane still leaning against it, because when I looked at it, I saw her sitting there, her chin cupped in her hand, smiling at me; everywhere I looked were reminders of her. The three of us huddled together on the floor, hugging each other as we cried. I read a phrase somewhere once that mentioned people holding a 'crying together' to mourn lost loved ones, and that perfectly described what we did; we were holding a crying-together as we mourned our mother.
By unspoken agreement we didn't talk about her; the loss was too huge, too raw, too recent; instead, the everyday took over; hot drinks, breakfast, small talk, the displacement trivia people do when the elephant in the room is too big to ignore but you still can't bring yourself to see it. I couldn't bear to stay upstairs with so much of her all around me, the girls obviously felt the same, and by unspoken agreement we gravitated downstairs and the safe anonymity of the Rec room, where we held each other in silence, lost in our memories. I only had a few months worth, but all the more precious to me because of that, but my beautiful sisters had a whole lifetime to remember and relive, and it occurred to me that their loss was so much greater than mine. They'd survived what my father had done to them, they'd rebuilt their lives and succeeded, they had been happy as a family at last, and now it was gone and all they had was me.
The day wore on, and when darkness fell, Shari made some snacks, we were too overwrought to cook any kind of real meal, and retired to bed to nurse our thoughts and wonder what came next. The sound of knocking at my door woke me up. It was after 2 AM according to my watch, and when I called out, Yaz stepped into my room. She looked haggard, exhausted, wrung-out, and totally lost. One look at her expression wrung my heart.
"I can't sleep, baby, I keep dreaming about...about mummy, help me Ricky, please..." she quavered, tears rolling down her cheeks.
I held out my arms and she collapsed against me, crying piteously, and I guess I still wasn't tied too tightly because I started too, and that's how Shari found us, sitting in the dark on my bed, sobbing with anguish. Our big sister tried to comfort us, but she succumbed too, and so we huddled together, three broken hearts trying to get some comfort from each other.
*
I woke first with the sun in my eyes, slightly thick-headed, wondering who was with me, before seeing two masses of curls on the pillow, bright copper-bronze in the morning sunshine, and then the night came flooding back; my sisters were huddled against me, they'd stayed the night with me. They looked so peaceful, poor things, I felt thankful they'd come to me for comfort, it told me we were still OK, and a huge billow of love for them; they were my family, I was their family, we were together, and we'd get through this somehow.
We tried to make the days as normal as possible; we couldn't get the death certificate (and you have no idea how much it hurt to say those two words even in the privacy of my own head...) until the Coroner had ruled on the post-mortem at an inquest, and we couldn't arrange mum's funeral until we had the death certificate, so we just stumbled along, filling the days and trying to not brood on what we knew was coming. Yaz found herself working through mum's insurance paperwork, while Shari stepped back into the office to keep the ball rolling until we knew what was going to happen next, and I just made myself useful anywhere I could.
Keeping busy was better than moping around, and I needed to be near the girls; being alone at home meant only thoughts of her, echoes of her voice everywhere I stepped, the imagined scent of her perfume in a thousand places, trinkets and mementoes she'd handled a thousand times a day now still, never again to feel the touch of her hands on them, her favourite tea-glass forlorn on the counter, one I'd made countless glasses of Oolong tea for her to enjoy late at night, now she'd never use it again, and I couldn't bring myself to touch it, to put it away; there were too many ghosts in that house for me to ever be there by myself ever again.
We bumbled along like this for almost three weeks, with no word from the Coroner's Court, nothing, until finally, one morning, Shari came into the dining room looking more upset that she had in a long while.
"Guys, I just had a call, they're holding the inquest today, they have the results of the post-mortem, and they need a family member to attend. I'm the eldest, but if you guys...?
Of course we were both going with her; this was our family. The coroner's court is in Walthamstow, not far from
the house in Dalston, and we got there early. The court was a pretty straightforward; the results of the autopsy were read into the record, I understood maybe one word in ten, but what it boiled down to was that, even though there was ample historical evidence of repeated trauma (remodelled fractures in several of the major bones of her skeleton) actual cause of death was not directly attributable to foul play or external influence. They noted that she had a depressed skull fracture, it was several years old, and that could have been the cause of the migraines, but there was no evidence strong enough to suggest the violence done to her over her life was the actual cause of her death. The coroner recorded a verdict of 'Natural Causes' in mum's death, and just like that her traumatic life and everything my bastard father had done to her was glossed over.
When we left the courtroom, Shari saw the Forensic Pathologist who'd carried out the post-mortem and given evidence, and collared him to ask him some questions. He seemed quite happy to talk to us now that a verdict had been recorded.
"Miss Shahida, there's really nothing I can add to the report I gave to the court; your mother had very obviously been subjected to a catalogue of historical injuries stretching back several years, but none of her injuries were of sufficient severity to be provably causative factors in her death. I'm very sorry. While I believe that the cumulative effect of her injuries over the years may have been a major contributory factor in her eventual death, I just don't have any definitive, medically justified evidence that they did; the fact is, any one of a number of things may have caused or aggravated the causes of the cerebral haemorrhage that was ultimately the cause of death, but nothing I found points definitively to any one injury, if I had, I would have testified to that effect. Your mother had a long history of battery and abuse-related injuries, and I'm sorry, I wish I could have helped jail the bastard who did all that to her, but I just don't have any real evidence that it was the actual cause of death, not enough to meet the burden of proof, anyway. Maybe one day we can gather enough evidence to re-convene the inquest and lay criminal charges, I hope we can, but right now that's just not possible. I'm very sorry."
