The Girl in the Corner

by Amanda Prowse

  ‘That’s so unfair on your dad. Poor Len.’

  Rae bit her lip. ‘I got to my mum and dad’s the other morning . . .’ She stopped ironing and closed her eyes briefly, finding it hard to mentally amend the phrase that had been leaving her mouth for her whole life, impossible to think of the house in Purbeck Avenue as anything other than where her mum and dad lived.

  ‘You okay?’

  Rae nodded and took a breath. ‘I got to the house and she had started sorting Mum’s jewellery out. She had laid it in piles on the dressing table and insisted on dragging me upstairs right away. I followed her because I thought she wanted to say something to me out of earshot about the funeral or whatever. Dad was sat at the dining table and it was like it was Debbie-Jo’s house and not his. It felt really invasive and she had clearly been through all of my mum’s drawers and jewellery boxes, whereas I’d feel terrible about touching her stuff, and she started saying, “This pile is for Taylor; he did love his Nan . . .” – kind of implying that Hannah and George did not. And, “This pile is for me; she always wanted me to have her engagement ring, she told me . . .” And I stood there and I thought, I don’t want any of it! Nothing! I don’t care; I just want my mum back. But I knew I couldn’t say that and so I just nodded and left her to it. But I didn’t like her very much for it.’

  ‘Maybe that’s her way of dealing with it. Grief is a very personal thing and I think different people handle it in different ways.’

  ‘Gee, thanks for that, Dr Phil.’ Rae tutted.

  Dolly pulled a face and Rae felt an instant flash of guilt. Her friend was an angel, sitting with her during the day and doing whatever she could to get her through this horrible time.

  ‘I’m sorry, Dolly. I am a cranky cow and I know you are right, but it’s like my sister is taking over at the house and my dad is so low and sad that he’s letting her do it. I also think he’s worried that if he says anything negative or contrary to what she is planning, she’ll hotfoot it back up the motorway to Northampton – and the one thing he doesn’t want, and I completely get it, is to be by himself right now.’

  ‘Have you told him to come and stay here?’

  ‘Of course! And I would love that! I have even suggested the kids go and stay, but he says he’s fine and he wants to be with all his stuff and wants to get into the bed he shared with Mum, and I understand, I do. And I think not having a kitchen here is a bit off-putting for him. We can rethink things in time; I just want to get the funeral out of the way.’

  ‘How are things with you and Howard? I noticed you seem very . . .’ Dolly raised her eyebrows.

  ‘We are very . . .’ Rae pictured the night of reconciliation after losing her mum, when he had held her close and they had taken the first emotional steps towards healing.

  ‘So tell me more!’ Dolly probed.

  Rae set down the iron and spoke thoughtfully. ‘It’s almost like Mum dying was this big tsunami that came and washed all other worries away. Howard has been brilliant, absolutely brilliant.’ She smiled at her sister-in-law. ‘I mean, amazing. I don’t think I would be coping without him. From that very first morning when the call came in, and at the hospital, until now . . . He just takes care of stuff and has been so kind. He knows what to say to make it better. He asks the right questions, has helped us organise the funeral, paid for everything . . . I couldn’t ask for anything more. And on top of that he’s scheduled the new kitchen to be fitted and he’s keeping tabs on the kids. I feel thankful for him and I realise that he is right, and that you are right: I can’t let one stupid, shitty fortnight ruin what is essentially a good marriage. We are so much more than that.’ Rae knew that this was the best way forward, the right thing to do for all their sakes. It was the easiest path ahead, for everyone, and to have made the decision felt like a burden lifted.

  She heard her mum’s words loud and clear and her throat tightened. It’s the life you have chosen and it’s a lovely life and you will get used to it, darling. Everyone’s family is strange compared to your own; and when you get used to it, it will be less exhausting . . .

  Dolly threw the magazine on to the table and jumped up. She pulled Rae into a big hug and kissed her face, hard. ‘You have no idea how very, very happy I am to hear this, Rae. No idea! I was so worried. But you two are good together. I told you he was a good guy.’

  ‘You did. And you were right. I love him.’ Rae felt a spike of joy at this truth and welcomed it when there was so much to feel sad about right now. She pictured saying goodbye to her mum as she lay on the gurney, and saw her dad with his hands clasped.

  And just like that, it hit her again. The freight train of loss hijacked the moment and hurtled through the wall, knocking her backwards. The force of it left her struggling for air, as she staggered back against the fireplace and fell forward, crying with such force it left her winded.

  Dolly grabbed her and kept her upright.

  ‘It’s okay, Rae-Valentine, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.’

  ‘My mum!’ she managed. ‘I want my mum, Dolly . . . I miss her! I just want to see her, one more time . . .’

  On the day of the funeral, the day she had dreaded, Rae woke early and climbed from the bed, taking care not to disturb her husband, who slept soundly. She peeked through the curtains at the street still bathed in darkness and noted the drizzle. Most appropriate for what lay ahead. She took her shower and cleaned the bathroom then went downstairs, treading carefully so as not to wake up George, Ruby and Hannah, who all slept soundly. Niamh was still in Liverpool, busy with lectures. She walked into her half-finished kitchen and in her slippers trod the sawdust and curls of wood that littered the floor. Having reached for the kettle, which thankfully she could now plug in, she ran her fingertips over the new countertop, crowned with a thin layer of dust, and felt a little indifferent to her choice. A kitchen was a kitchen in the grand scheme of things.

  ‘Hey, Mum.’

  ‘Morning, darling, did I wake you? I forget your room is directly below ours.’

  ‘I was awake anyway.’ Hannah yawned and leaned against the wall, scrolling through her phone before she was even fully awake.

  Rae walked over to her daughter and kissed her forehead. ‘Do you know, I think you are beautiful all the time, Hannah, but there is something about the way you look when you first wake up, all sleepy-eyed and muzzy-headed, that makes my heart swell. You might be in your twenties, but you have that same look about you as you did when you were a baby.’

  Hannah looked at her screen, embarrassed. ‘I am feeling really nervous about today.’

  ‘I can understand that, but remember Dad and I will be by your side; and George and Dolly – everyone will be keeping an eye out for you. I have been to many funerals, more than I care to remember, and it is never as bad as you think it’s going to be. Cup of tea?’

  ‘Please.’ Hannah looked up. ‘I don’t want to see her coffin.’

  Rae nodded. ‘I get that. But, you know, losing Nan feels like a tragedy for us because we love her and we will miss her . . .’ She made no attempt to mop her tears that fell. ‘But it’s not a tragedy, not really, even if we can’t see it like that right now. She lived well, she got old, she was loved, she had a great family, a happy marriage and she simply didn’t wake up one day; that’s a pretty perfect life. We should all be so lucky. The fact that we are all so sad about losing her, missing her . . . well, that really should be celebrated, not mourned.’ Rae hoped that when her time came, someone might be able to say something similar.

  ‘I guess so. But it’s made me think about—’

  ‘Think about what, love?’ Rae poured the hot water into the two mugs, tossed out the tea bags and handed the drink to her daughter.

  ‘It’s made me think about losing you.’

  ‘It’s bound to, but I will do my very best to stick around until I am old enough to be a proper pain in the backside.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘I promise.’ Rae cradled her mug. ‘And I exp
ect you’d fare a bit better if Niamh was here today?’

  ‘I would.’ Hannah smiled at the thought – almost involuntarily, it seemed.

  ‘You really love her.’

  ‘I do, Mum.’

  ‘Is she your first girlfriend?’ Rae felt now was the time to ask the many questions that swirled in her head.

  ‘Yes. I mean I’ve hooked up with people, but I’ve never felt like this.’

  Rae nodded, not one hundred per cent sure on the definition of ‘hooked up’, but able to guess. ‘I can see why, Hannah. She’s great.’

  ‘I know, right?’ There it was again, that smile. ‘I can’t believe she feels the same way about me – I mean, have you seen her?’

  ‘Don’t ever think like that. She is very lucky to have you.’ Rae felt the tap on the shoulder from her own ghost of inadequacy, still lurking. ‘You are a smart, beautiful girl and I am so proud of you, always.’

  ‘Dad was your first boyfriend, right?’ Hannah gulped her tea.

  ‘Yes. I was only a baby really. Sixteen!’

  ‘And did you know instantly that he was the one?’

  ‘Not instantly, no. I liked the idea of him – Dolly had of course painted a picture of him – but our first date was a bit of a disaster.’ She laughed and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her dressing gown.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why do you think? Who is the architect of all my life’s disastrous days?’

  ‘Dolly!’ They spoke in unison.

  ‘Yep, Dolly. She was trying to impress Vinnie and was boisterous, shouty and getting sloshed.’

  ‘Really? When did she change?’ Hannah quipped.

  Rae chuckled. ‘Dad and I kind of sat like spectators at the Dolly show and I couldn’t wait to get home. I remember Nan had bought me a new floral blouse and I was fed up, thinking that it had been a waste of money. I figured he’d think I was the most boring date ever and that would be that! But no: he walked me to the gate and we laughed at how terrible the evening had been, and he asked to see me again. And then we had our second date, just the two of us, in the park of all places, and it was lovely and I knew then, I think.’

  ‘Are you and Dad okay?’

  The question caught Rae a little off guard and she concentrated on keeping a neutral face, relieved that she was finally able to answer the question truthfully: a decision had been made. ‘Yes! We are good.’ She took a sip of her tea. ‘Why do you ask, darling?’ Her hand shook. It was still her greatest dread that her kids would get wind of what had happened.

  Hannah gave a half-shrug. ‘It was just something that Lyall said a while ago.’

  Rae felt her heart bang in fear.

  ‘Something that he had heard – and I know it’s rubbish; Lyall is a total idiot – but I just wanted to ask you. It’s been bothering me.’

  She noted Hannah’s lack of eye contact and it tore at her heart that her little girl had been harbouring these thoughts, these worries. It shouldn’t have been a shock – Lyall, Hannah’s cousin, lived in the house where Dolly shouted constantly and spoke uncensored with Vinnie – but still, she knew the revelation was more than Hannah, or she herself for that matter, could really handle today. But however uncomfortable, the truth could not be avoided. She reached for her daughter’s hand.

  ‘I’ve never lied to you, Hannah, and I won’t start today. I will give you the outline, but I don’t want to go into detail, not right now. But if you want to talk about it some more when things have settled, you know where I am, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ Hannah smiled at her mum and placed her phone on the counter.

  Rae took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know what you heard from Lyall and I am not asking you to tell me. But Dad and I did hit a bump in the road, that’s true. He let me down – let us down – and it’s been hard for me to understand and to accept and it made me look at all aspects of my life in a way that I haven’t really done before.’

  ‘In what way, Mum?’

  ‘I guess the way I am seen by everyone. It made me think about who I am, Hannah.’ She rubbed the tops of her arms, overcome by a sudden chill, as the words flew from her mouth. ‘And I know I don’t want to die like my mum and never find out. I wanted to do so many things in my life – not that having you and George hasn’t been my greatest thing; it has, never doubt that! But I wanted to learn to cook, really learn to cook; I wanted to travel; I wanted to do lots of things. But it feels like other people always felt they knew best and I stood back and let them tell me what to do – hiding, in the background, going with the flow.’

  She looked at her daughter, who stared at her with the same expression of concern she had worn since she was three years of age, and it killed Rae.

  ‘But Nan dying . . .’ Rae sighed. ‘It’s put things in perspective and I can see that no bump in the road is worth giving up on a marriage. And it’s made me realise something that she knew all along: that family is the most important thing. It’s everything. And maybe that is my greatest achievement and that’s okay. And maybe I want too much, maybe I need to simply be grateful for all the wonderful things I do have.’ She hoped her positivity might be infectious. She didn’t want to give Hannah any more to worry about.

  ‘Did you think you might give up on your marriage?’ Hannah asked, wide-eyed. She looked like a small child who was afraid.

  ‘I don’t know. I considered it. I didn’t know what to do. I was hurt and that felt like an option. But I do know that your dad loves you, loves us all more than anything; he’s the same dad he always was and you can count on him. You can. And I also know that today is the day we think about Nan and we think about how we can help Grandad and we stick together and we look out for each other. That’s what’s important, not something Lyall might have mentioned or overheard.’

  ‘Yep, you are right. I do love you, Mum. I want you both to be happy. I want that more than anything because I am happy now and I can see how brilliant it is! I want everyone to feel this way. And I do want you to know who you are, because I finally know who I am and it feels like the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders.’

  Rae pulled her girl into a hug and kissed the top of her head. ‘I love you Hannah Bee Banana.’

  The crematorium was busy. One of the concerns that had kept Rae awake was a fear that the place might be empty, as if the measure of her mum’s life would be in some way represented by the number of people who turned up to mourn her. It was a relief to see the whole family there and their kids, her parents’ neighbours, her mum’s cousins and their children and a couple of her dad’s old work colleagues. Howard stood close by, holding her hand and asking softly and regularly, ‘How’re we doing?’ and she was grateful for his concern. In response, she nodded at him and greeted the next relative with a grateful smile or a shake of their hand. When the time came, her dad sat quietly at the front with Debbie-Jo on one side and Rae on the other. Howard was to the left of her with his hand resting on her leg. She stared at his splayed fingers and pictured them like an anchor, keeping her steady on this day when she needed his guidance more than ever. It occurred to her that to lose a spouse through death was, of course, hard, wreaking life-changing devastation, but she hoped her dad would take some small comfort from that fact that his wife had left him only when the last breath escaped her body; the decision to go was taken by a force much greater than her. The same could not be said of someone who left you for another, someone who cheated, committed infidelity, broke their vows; those people left you just as much alone, but also with a sense of failure and the uncomfortable cloak of inadequacy that wrapped you tight. She was grateful that she and Howard had found their way back to each other, especially today.

  All of her mum’s grandchildren sat in the pew behind. Rae felt waves of pride at the way they conducted themselves, supporting each other in every sense and all with one eye on the man who had lost his wife. Debbie-Jo kept turning around and grabbing her boys’ hands, which in turn made them cry. It was a difficult day for
them all and one without a blueprint. Rae felt lost and guilty at the fact that she just wanted it to be over.

  It was an odd thing that, having thought about her mum every second of every day since she had passed away, she found her mind wandering during the funeral – almost as if this was how she was going to get through it. She looked at the architecture, admired the floral display and sang ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’ with gusto, and even mentally pictured the wake and how she might distribute the food, etc. – anything other than give in to the howl of distress that hovered in her chest when she looked at the pale wood coffin sitting inside the red velvet curtains only feet away.

  And it seemed that as quickly as the service had begun, it was over. She would have been hard pushed to remember the exact words of the eulogy, read eloquently by her nephew Luke, who did them all proud – but she would forever recall the tone of it, heartfelt and given in thanks for a life well lived. She hugged him closely outside the church.

  ‘You did brilliantly.’

  ‘Thank you, Auntie Rae.’

  It felt odd to see the little house in Purbeck Avenue so full of people. The rooms were crowded and she busied around with a tray of canapés, walking among the mourners and not chatting for too long, using her role as waitress as a neat excuse for flitting from person to person before her sadness had a chance to reveal itself publicly. George sat next to his grandad and Ruby sat at his feet; Rae ruffled her hair as she walked past and smiled at her son, mouthing, ‘Thank you.’

  Hannah cosied up in the corner with her cousins and Rae felt a flicker of unease at what the topic under discussion might be, instantly chastising herself for being so narcissistic as to assume it would be about her and Howard, today of all days.

  Debbie-Jo filled the kettle for the umpteenth time and rinsed and prepped their mum’s floral china teacups for the next round of tea.

  ‘Can I help with that?’ Rae placed the empty sausage roll plate in the sink.