Getting a Life (New City Series Book 1)

by Simpson, Stefanie

  She couldn’t tell him on the phone.

  “Arthur, you need to come to the house.” Silence. He could tell by the tone of her voice, but couldn’t form the thought.

  “What’s wrong?” panic.

  “Just right now, you need to come to the house.”

  She heard him swallow. “I’ll be right there.”

  Arthur’s head spun. He slipped on his shoes and headed out. Everything went through his mind, and it settled on the present fear he had for some weeks. He parked haphazardly when he got there. For a second he just held the steering wheel of the car. He made himself move all of a sudden.

  Rebecca was sitting on top of the stairs, not knowing what to do, when he opened the door. He looked up to her sad eyes, he leant on the banister as he went up to join her.

  Finally, she swallowed, and met his stare. “She was gone when I went in with her tea.”

  He flopped down next to her. He turned back and looked at the door. “What do I do?” he looked so lost and confused.

  “I’ll help you, I’m here.” She put her arm around him, and he held her, he put his head on her shoulder.

  “I want to see her.” He let her go and went to her door, he hovered, hand on handle. He took a deep breath and went in.

  He neared the bed, and touched her hand. She was really gone. He had years of regret, he had been closed off and distant for so long, and but for Rebecca he still would be. Her bright sweetness had made his mother happy, and brought them together as a family.

  He went back out. Rebecca was biting the side of her thumb. “I’ve just looked up what we do, we need to ring the GP.” He nodded.

  Rebecca made tea. They sat in the kitchen, the light had a quiet buzz, which normally didn’t bother anyone, but it seemed unnaturally loud. Rebecca it turned off and they sat in the morning light.

  It seemed an age until eight, she rang the GP over and over until the receptionist finally answered. The conversation felt strange, sympathetic tones, a professional script that the receptionist must have given a hundred times before.

  After she ended the call, they sat in silence. When the doorbell went, they both jumped. The quiet moments before the process of acknowledging a death were over.

  Arthur hadn’t even realised he was holding her hand. She rubbed the back of it as she got up and answered the door.

  The young GP was kind and respectful. Alice needed a post-mortem. They waited for the private ambulance to take her to the hospital. People filled the house, all with careful tread, neutral well-trained faces, and professional words. Arthur could only watch as they took her out. It was after twelve when the ambulance left them. Then they were alone.

  “Now what?”

  “We have to wait for the results. Then we can register it, then we plan the funeral.”

  “She has a plan in place.”

  “For now, there’s nothing to do.”

  “I need to do something but I’m so tired.”

  He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands. He took a steadying breath but didn’t remove his hands.

  Her voice broke as she whispered his name. He shook his head and took another breath.

  “Come here.” Her tears were falling. She put her arms round his middle and he held her tight. He let go and cried, his face buried in her neck. She soothed his back and gently rocked him.

  His stomach growled.

  He pulled back, clearing his throat. She didn’t say anything, but took him back into the kitchen. She silently made them sandwiches and ate. They didn’t taste them. He glanced up at her blotchy face.

  “What do you want to do? I mean, I don’t want to be alone, and I doubt you want to be here alone, and…I'm not sure I want to be here.”

  “Let’s go to your house. We can’t do anything until we hear form the coroner.”

  “Okay.”

  Arthur drove them over, and when Rebecca walked in, she looked around impressed. Arthur was despondent, he just stood in the hall.

  “Right. Tea, or booze?”

  “Booze. I just want to go to sleep.”

  She followed him into the kitchen. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey, his good stuff. He poured them a drink each and they took it one. Smooth and warming. He poured them another.

  “I have to tell people.”

  “Right now?” he only shrugged and drank the second one. “How about right now, you don’t. You do what you need.”

  His face crumpled, but only for a moment. He took her hand and pulled her behind him. She followed him upstairs, her heart in her mouth. She didn’t take much of the house in, other than it was new, large, neutral, and sterile.

  He opened his bedroom door. His bed was unmade, a few things scattered about. He started getting undressed. Rebecca stood there looking at him, unsure what to do.

  When he was only in his boxer briefs, he opened a drawer and pulled out a large white t-shirt. He passed it to her, closed the curtains, and crawled into bed.

  She undressed, looking at him the whole time. She didn’t care if he looked and saw her naked, but he was curled up on his side. She took off her bra, but left her briefs on, pulled the t-shirt over her head, and climbed in next to him.

  He scooted over to her and pulled her into his arms. He snuggled down so that his head rested under her neck, arm draped over her waist.

  She put her arm over him, absently running it down his back, she nuzzled her face into his hair. They stayed that way for some time, until his breathing relaxed and his body became heavier as he fell asleep.

  It was dark when she woke up and she was warm and comfortable, Arthur was snoring a little, his face pressed into her neck, his breath puffing onto it.

  Alice was gone. She tried not to cry, but the tears came anyway.

  “Hey.” Arthur sounded groggy. He shushed her, running his fingers through her hair. He moved up to her face, cupping it. “I’m here.” He pressed his lips to hers, only to reassure her.

  He brushed his thumb across her tears. He wanted to kiss her more, kiss all her grief away, he wanted to lose his own in her, but he couldn’t, not like this. They had waited so long to be together, he wouldn’t begin things like this, on the day his mother died.

  They held fast to each other as the day darkened, hours lost in waiting, time slipping by.

  He woke again alone. He managed to get up, and stagger to the bathroom. He felt awful. He hadn’t slept for so long in weeks.

  He pulled on a sweatshirt and pyjama bottoms and went in search of Rebecca.

  She only wore the t-shirt he gave her. He tried not to think how good she felt in it. How warm and soft, and perfect.

  “I feel like I’ve been out on the lash. Hungry?”

  “A little.” His voice was gravelly.

  “You know I love to feed you.” She gave him a little smile. She turned back and looked through the fridge. She ended up making bacon and eggs. It was seven in the evening, and he didn’t care he was having breakfast. He tried not to look at the hem of the t-shirt. He fetched her some sweats, massive on her, but easier for him to look at. She looked so cute.

  Arthur called Maddie, and a few distant cousins and the like. He put the notice in the paper in the morning. Rebecca went with him register the death, she found out the paperwork for the funeral.

  Rebecca took care of nearly everything, Arthur couldn’t seem to function at first. Alice had a stroke, she went quickly in her sleep, it was peaceful and merciful. She didn’t suffer for weeks like his dad did, lingering on.

  She made him eat, slept in his bed, where nothing happened. She made him lists of everything he had to do.

  He did it all by rote, numbly going along.

  He went into work for a few days, not really dealing with work, and everyone was so nice, but he called the number of a company in London, one that had made him a proposition a few days ago. Suddenly, it made sense, it was time. Negotiations were quick, and before he thought about it, it was done. He expected to feel more emptiness, but he f
elt relief. He knew what would follow for him, for Rebecca, and even in his grief, he hoped. It was what his mum had wanted, she would be happy for them. His regret now was that she hadn’t seen them together.

  The day of the funeral, he was at the house early. Rebecca had been cleaning everything. She sorted Alice’s clothes, made small inroads into the packing up of a life.

  She had straightened her hair and wore a simple slim black dress. They hugged briefly and she went back to setting out cups.

  Maddie arrived, a sleek tall woman in her mid-thirties, she oozed money and entitlement. The man with her was thin, painfully so, balding. and had a slow deliberate way of moving. Rebecca wondered if his parents had been cousins.

  They were obviously rich, not flashy, but it was ingrained into them. Maddie was condescending in an extreme version of Victoria’s behaviour. Speaking of the very devil, she arrived shortly after.

  The two women were close, and clearly nice to each other. Victoria ignored Rebecca, and that was fine.

  Arthur hovered in the kitchen. Fiddling with his tie. Older cousins arrived, a few others, people all very definitely upper middle class. All had nice cars, well spoken, they dressed the same, looked the same.

  “Arthur, stop hiding in here.”

  “I love this room.”

  “So do I. We’ve spent many evenings in here. Right now, you need to speak with your family. You merely have to nod and smile politely, answer questions with civility, no more.”

  “I know.” He squeezed her arm and went into the front room.

  Victoria came in with empty cups.

  “Do you need help?” Rebecca blinked at her.

  “Why?”

  “You look swamped.”

  “Do I?”

  Victoria sighed and started filling the dishwasher.

  “Thank you.” She looked as though she wanted to say something else, but didn’t.

  It was going to be a long day.

  Ten. A diversion

  The cars came on time, and the flowers were lovely. Rebecca tried not to look at the coffin in the hearse.

  The family piled in the two cars, Arthur looked round for Rebecca, causing a fuss in the collection of elderly cousins that had never been mentioned.

  Arthur took her hand and made her get in the car with him. Maddie threw her distain at Rebecca when sat behind them, seeing Arthur hold Rebecca’s hand with an iron grip. Rebecca didn’t see where Victoria went.

  The service was lovely, the vicar was staid but kind. The church was cold and Rebecca shuddered, her hand still gripped in Arthur’s. He didn’t sing the hymns, in fact he barely blinked.

  When they left, Arthur looked drained but dry-eyed. He’d done his crying, she wiped her eyes as they left shuffling in those awkward moments after a funeral, the pent up emotion gone. The swapping of little stories, reading the cards on the bouquets of flowers.

  The Dog and Hound pub on the main road near the church was fairly posh, the function room was newly finished and plush. The food was nice, but standard. People milled about with coffee cups, nibbling on sandwiches and quiche.

  Arthur went to the bar and ordered a whiskey. Rebecca went out for some air. She’d never been to a funeral before, and found it all very strange. She looked back to the busy room, people reminiscing and laughing about good old days. Arthur leaning on the bar talking with Victoria and Maddie.

  The day was warm but she huddled into her smart jacket. A man joined her and lit a cigarette. He was only about forty, well dressed, she had no idea who he was.

  “So you looked after Aunt Alice?”

  “Yes.”

  “You and Arthur…?”

  “Is a complicated question.”

  “How so?” he offered her a cigarette, she declined.

  “It’s personal, and I doubt Arthur would like the matter in public discussion, and neither would I.”

  “You seem close.”

  “Yes.”

  She went to turn back, the wind was getting up, and the man was a little gross.

  “Well, you know, now you’re unemployed, I guess you’ll be looking to move on.” He looked her up and down. “I can always help you out.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Well, you don’t really expect anything from Arthur do you? I mean, hoping something comes of it,” he sucked his breath in as he inhaled, he held it for a beat and exhaled the smoke, “it’s a bit ambitious for someone like you. I’m available.”

  “Someone like me?” her pretty face scowled up at him. Fucker, if he was going to insult her, he’d better come right out and do it.

  “Well you know.”

  “No, I don’t. Explain yourself.”

  “Look, we all see what you’re doing, worming your way in, now she’s passed away, you can move in for the kill, get your hands on the money, and him. Don’t bank on it, he’ll see through you eventually. We’ve all be considering how you got in with them, but seeing you, we can see why Arthur would employ an unqualified pretty young woman.” She stared at him, and the leer he gave her. They all thought that she was a gold digger.

  There she was worried about dating her boss, and everyone was thinking she was a gold digging schemer.

  She quelled her mortification, and decided not to punch him in the dick.

  “If you knew me at all, you’d know that was bullshit. I can only imagine where you got that drivel from; Maddie or Victoria I guess, and everyone knows what they are, so I take no heed, whoever you are. Funny that, in all the time I’ve known Alice, and Arthur, not once have any of you been mentioned. That tells me all I need to know about how important you are.”

  She bypassed him and went in.

  Arthur was surrounded by older women, looking like he wanted to crawl away.

  “I need to get going.”

  He stood and took her aside.

  “Why, you can’t leave me here like this.”

  “Arthur, something’s come up.”

  “Did Maddie say something to you?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t go.”

  “Arthur, you know what you are to me, but I have to get out of here.”

  “Then let me come with you.”

  “We both can’t just take off, think of how it would look.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I do.”

  “Why?”

  “They think I’m out for you and your money.” He blinked. “I’m going.” He watched her leave, gutted. Part of him understood. She had a moral fibre that people rarely had. She wanted to do the right thing, and being thought of as a gold digger would be horrible for her.

  He closed his eyes.

  He sat back at the table.

  “She left then.” The wiry mean third cousin, who was about a hundred and fifty, sniffed.

  He sighed. “Before you say a goddamn word about her, let me tell you, she is one of the kindest and most genuine people I have ever known. I do not know which of you lot has decided to spread bollocks,” gasps all round, “about her, although I could guess, that woman did more for mum than any of you lot put together in the last ten years. She is honest and selfless, and, someone incredibly important to me, as I am to her, but she is the kind of person that would hate to be thought of as money grabbing. She’s not like you lot that’s for bloody sure.”

  He stood up, held Maddie with a dark look, and left.

  He didn’t really want to cause a scene, but his mother would be proud. She hated them all.

  Rebecca was halfway down the main road, traffic whizzing past, blustering her hair. Arthur jogged to her.

  “Hey.” He took her hand, but she pulled away.

  “We can’t.”

  He took her hand refusing to let go, and he called a taxi.

  They went to his, neither said a word the whole time.

  She burst into tears the moment they set foot in the house. She covered her eyes and sobbed. Not tears of grief but loud angry sobs.

  He pulled her
into his arms and held her while she bawled.

  She finally pulled back. Her lashes spikey and wet, her face blotchy.

  They sat in the kitchen, all white marble and oak units.

  The little couch in the corner behind the dining table faced the kitchen. The wide concertina doors showed of the bright autumn colours of his garden.

  Arthur put his jacket down, but she didn’t take hers off.

  “Maddie spread that crap, you know it. Mum couldn’t stand those people. Not all of them, but most. They never saw her, never did anything for her, they have no right to judge us. We know the truth. We know how we feel.”

  “What are your plans now, for the house, for everything?” her voice was thick, and she didn’t look at him.

  “I’ll sell the house. I can help you find somewhere, I can help you find a job.”

  “Help me?”

  “Anything you need. I’m not letting you balk, I can see it, how upset you are, you don’t need to be.”

  “Upset? Arthur, I loved your mum, I have no one I can call family, but your mum was. She’s gone and I’m devastated. As are you. Do you really want us to get together when you’re angry and still in shock, and deeply grieved? I know I don’t want to start out being unemployed, homeless, and feeling like this.”

  “You’re making excuses, you always make excuses.”

  “So do you. Both of us seem unwilling to start this relationship. So maybe we shouldn’t, not yet. It’s been a week. Arthur, a week. Let me help you pack up the house, I’ll find another job, somewhere to live, give ourselves a month, and see how we feel. I’m too emotional, too…raw.” Her voice faltered. He nodded, turning to her. “I know it’s a bit melodramatic, but it’s how I feel.”

  “I understand, I think you might be right. I’m all over the place. Don’t go though, stay here, please.”

  “I can’t Arthur.” He nodded. His disappointment was thick between them.

  “I’ll drive you back.”

  They sat in the drive for a few minutes, she went to say something, she nearly said sod it let’s dive in. But she didn’t.

  He watched her walk away from him, she always seemed to be doing that. If only he hadn’t hesitated in the summer, if only he had grabbed the opportunity then. What she said made sense, and he was angry, he hadn’t even realised it, sad, lonely, and angry.