You Let Him In

by JA Andrews

  I turn my head to pull a confused look in Donna’s direction. Sharon remains seated with a calm expression as she awaits our indication for her to leave.

  ‘Song?’ I ask Donna. ‘What has his favourite song got to do with anything?’

  ‘At the service,’ Donna snaps back to reply. ‘I need to give my son a decent send-off.’

  I lower my head and sigh with the stress. This criminal has destroyed all of our lives. I’m glad that he’s dead.

  Fifteen

  Gary

  Jenny wouldn’t be expecting me to arrive without giving her any notice today but I have taken a chance that she is still at home, grieving. After meeting her for the first time in person a couple of days ago, I can’t get the circumstances out of my head. I need to see her again to show my support. I hope she is at home.

  I’m standing outside in the rain with a bunch of flowers that have started to wilt. They look a couple of days old. I know I should have picked a better bunch but I was stuck for time. I don’t want to come across too forward in these difficult times for her but, from my observations, I wouldn’t have guessed she has many friends. In the whole time I was there, not once did I hear her mobile phone ring, nor did I see any condolence cards. I thought she was lonely.

  I’m worried about her.

  When I think about Michael, I am reminded of how cruel life can be. How another person can take away one’s life so quickly without warning. I can’t unsee his dying face looking up at me. Unlike Jenny, I am strong enough to deal with death, but it’s easy for me to say that when he wasn’t my husband.

  I knock on the door twice, the second time louder than the first. Soon I hear the footsteps coming closer to the door from the inside. I am pleased that Jenny is home and I hope she likes my gesture. The door opens slightly to reveal her in the small gap she has left ajar.

  ‘Jenny?’ I say. ‘Sorry to bother you but the police have been in touch with me. Have they contacted you too?’

  Jenny opens the door fully to reveal herself in her pyjamas. I notice that her hair is a greasy, tangled weave of long brown locks while her reddened cheeks and puffy eyes signal that she has been crying. If anything is more evident than anything else at this minute in time it is that she hasn’t been taking care of herself.

  ‘I’m not really up to visitors today,’ Jenny says. ‘I haven’t had much sleep. I hardly ever sleep now.’

  The rain is trickling down my face. It’s not a torrential downpour but I am wet enough to have the water from my hair roll down into my eyes. I wipe them dry with one hand while holding out the flowers with the other.

  ‘I brought you these,’ I say, hoping she will let me inside. ‘Sorry I didn’t give you any notice. I don’t have your number. I was passing by and took a chance that you were home.’

  Jenny opens the door further and takes the flowers. She gives them a sniff – a dozen or so red carnations, now wet and slightly limp in her hands. I thought they might cheer her up. I want to show her that even though we don’t know each other all that well, she has my sympathy.

  ‘Come inside,’ Jenny now insists. ‘I’ll put these in water to cheer them up a little. They’re drooping slightly, but salvageable. Thank you, you’ve very kind.’

  I follow Jenny through to the hallway. I see the toys all scattered across the living room floor as I walk past. I can’t hear him. I look around discreetly and listen out, wondering where he is.

  ‘Shall I get you a towel?’ Jenny asks. ‘You look quite wet. Had you been outside long?’

  ‘Not long,’ I reply, glancing around the room. ‘Just a couple of minutes. I parked my transit van the next street over because there’s no space outside. It was only a two-minute walk, if that, hardly anything. I don’t need a towel, I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Take a seat in the kitchen,’ Jenny says, leading the way. ‘I haven’t packed away all Daniel’s toys from this morning. He’s at preschool today and I still have a few hours of peace left. I was meant to go back to bed but what with everything – I can’t sleep.’

  I sit down at the table in the exact spot I was a couple of days ago. Nothing has changed except for the pile of dishes by the kitchen sink. Nothing appears to have been cleaned. Jenny pulls out a vase from the cupboard under the kitchen sink and places the flowers within it. I admire them as they are placed in the centre of the window.

  ‘Did Sharon come round here yesterday?’ I ask, getting straight to the point, desperate to know what she knows. ‘I was informed that the driver of the car was definitely under the influence of some hard-hitting drugs.’

  ‘The whole situation from beginning to end just seems like a whole waste of life,’ Jenny replies, now seated at the table. ‘In short, from what I know he had argued with his girlfriend, took a concoction of drugs and alcohol. Then I understand he had stolen a car and was speeding around country lanes. Michael was in the wrong place at the wrong time.’

  ‘I didn’t get that much detail,’ I reply. ‘I heard that the suspect’s cause of death was drowning. He passed out in the stream at the far end of the hotel grounds. Face hit the water most likely, and gone.’

  For a few more minutes we discuss the situation in more detail. Jenny seems more alert than she was the other day and I can see that by talking about the death of Michael she is starting to ask more questions. I like her and she reminds me a little of my ex-wife. She’s very trusting, warm and friendly. Wears her heart on her sleeve. Michael had good taste in women.

  ‘You smell nice, is that your aftershave?’ Jenny asks. ‘I’m sure I recognise it. That’s the same designer brand that Michael wore. Is it called Platinum?’

  ‘It is,’ I say with a beaming smile. ‘Yes, it is Platinum. Everyone compliments it. Michael had good taste.’

  Jenny walks towards me, leans over and takes a sniff. We seem to be bonding now and I want her to talk to me more. I can see she has very little support. I want her to know that she can chat to me about anything.

  ‘I am so sorry,’ she says. ‘I’ve not smelt that in a while. It’s bringing back some memories. Michael’s is upstairs in the bathroom cabinet. I can’t bring myself to throw it out.’

  Jenny starts to laugh. It’s the first time I have seen her smile.

  ‘I remember when Michael first bought it and sprayed it on himself in the car. He nearly caused an accident because he thought I was choking to death. I wound down the window and I remember how he was offended because it was an expensive brand. I thought it was a cheap and nasty deodorant at first, but I grew to like it.’

  I smile back at her. We are locked within a gaze that I hope is the very start of a new friendship. If Jenny gets to know me better, I might open up to her about my own demons.

  ‘I find it difficult talking about him in past tense too,’ Jenny continues. ‘Ever since you told me about what you witnessed, I can’t stop thinking about it. Some nights I am living it out in my dreams. I’ve had a couple of nightmares.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to give you nightmares,’ I reply with concern. ‘I was only honest with everything that had happened. I still can’t shake the thoughts and images of it from my own head either.’

  ‘Forgive me for asking this,’ Jenny says. ‘When he called out for me, do you think Michael knew that I wasn’t there? I didn’t travel with him to the hotel so it was just a thought.’

  ‘I grabbed his hand very tightly as he was calling your name,’ I reply. ‘I took one look at him and I wanted him to know he wasn’t alone. I don’t think he knew who was around him or what was even happening. It was quick.’

  ‘He would have known it wasn’t me,’ Jenny tearfully replies. ‘I failed him. I should have stopped him going out that night. I feel partly to blame.’

  Jenny buries her head into her hands and the emotions are overflowing. She appears now on the verge of an emotional breakdown. I want to reach out and hold her but it would be inappropriate.

  ‘I tried to tell him that I would find you,’ I said, to offer a comf
orting response. ‘I wanted to ask if he had anything to say but it was too late. It was such a distressing cry for you. I am so sorry. So, very sorry. He needed you that night. I only wanted you to know.’

  ‘I can’t thank you enough for being there,’ Jenny says. ‘At least the bastard that did this is dead.’

  ‘If there’s anything you need me to do, just ask,’ I reply. ‘Anything at all. It’s been quite a shock to my system too. I never knew your husband but you seem like a lovely family.’

  She hasn’t taken the hint – or has she?

  ‘I don’t think I will ever get over this,’ Jenny says, looking up at me. ‘I feel like closure would be letting go of Michael and that’s the last thing I want. I don’t ever want to forget him. A few of my friends from work have said I might never get over it, just get used to it. They mean well. They came over the other day with a card.’

  I’m annoyed when I know I shouldn’t be.

  ‘That doesn’t sound like friendly advice to me,’ I reply. ‘Does anyone really have those they can call friends at work? People move on so quickly.’

  I’m looking at Jenny, who seems confused. They don’t sound like friends that care.

  ‘I don’t mean to sound rude,’ I continue, changing the subject. ‘I genuinely care about people but I’ve been hurt in the past by so-called friends. All I’m saying is, be careful.’

  ‘I appreciate the advice,’ she replies, smiling at me, her vulnerability softening my mood. ‘Thanks again, I mean it.’

  I’m nervous about my next question. It might come across a little strange, but I need closure too. Everything that has happened, all that I saw attaches me to these circumstances and they have brought Jenny and I together. I’m going to put it right out there and ask.

  ‘Would anyone mind if I came to Michael’s funeral?’ I ask. ‘I’ll be honest with you. Since being with him when he died, I feel like I should be there, if only as my way of saying goodbye. Even if I am sat all the way at the back – just something.’

  Jenny grabs the cuff of my sleeve from across the table. The tears are rolling down her cheeks. All I want to do is reach out and hold her. I can’t take her pain away.

  ‘Of course. I don’t mind. You were there for him at the end,’ Jenny replies. ‘It’s only likely to be a small cremation service and I know Michael wouldn’t have had any objections. His mother might have something to say about it but I’ll talk her round.’

  ‘Thank you. That’s made my day. I had to ask,’ I say solemnly, showing her the emotion in my voice. ‘It will mean a lot to me. I don’t mean to intrude.’

  In those brief few seconds, I feel a connection of friendship. It’s been a long time since I could call anyone a friend. I’ve been on my own for so long. I never expected Michael’s death to bring with it these feelings towards her. I’m intrigued, albeit a little scared of how I feel.

  ‘Time I should be heading off,’ I say, handing Jenny a business card with my number on it, hoping that she will call me soon. ‘That’s my mobile in the bottom right corner. Call me if you need anything.’

  ‘Thank you again for the flowers,’ Jenny replies. ‘It’s very kind of you to bring them. Sorry if I was a bit off at the door, I wasn’t expecting visitors today.’

  I stand up from the table and smile in her direction. I glance one final time at the wilted flowers in the vase as they sit on the windowsill. Carnations are symbolic of admiration, love and affection. I’m showing her that something good can come from something bad.

  She doesn’t know that I stole them this morning from the scene of Michael’s death.

  Sixteen

  Donna

  I’m trying to remain strong-minded but I can see the damaging impact of Jenny’s grief on my grandson, Daniel. He may only be a small boy but I can see that it is evident from his behaviours he has picked up on the suffering of his mother. Unable to communicate in ways that we do as adults, Daniel, who is unable to grasp the concept of death and its finality, appears clingier and more agitated to me.

  It breaks my heart.

  Living with my own torment, the knowledge that I will never see my son again, is something that cuts my heart in two. The only reminder I have left of my son is Daniel: a young boy who has no idea how substantial the event is that has happened in his life.

  ‘Pete, I have to say it. I can’t believe I am going to say this out loud, but I have to get it off my chest,’ I say to Pete, who is rummaging through the old photographs we have of Michael as a child for the funeral service. ‘I don’t think that Jenny is in any fit state to really look after Daniel properly. I think he should stay here with us for a few weeks.’

  Pete drops the photographs in his hands on the dining room table. He turns to look at me and grabs his coffee as he stands up from his chair. I can tell from the expression on his face that he has been thinking the same thoughts as myself.

  ‘I agree with you,’ Pete replies. ‘I think she could be on the verge of a mental breakdown. I think it would be for the best if we ask Jenny if she wants to move in with us for a few weeks. We can then take care of both of them – but I don’t know how we should approach it.’

  ‘I agree. It can’t be healthy just sitting in that house on her own all day and night. She isn’t even getting any sleep,’ I reply. ‘I think if she had some time to herself without having to worry about Daniel’s needs, she would have time to grieve. A couple of weeks to really make sense of all this. And I think that Daniel needs to have some separation from seeing her in this emotional state.’

  Pete sips his coffee and nods his head.

  ‘Since you put it that way,’ he responds. ‘it’s not good for Daniel. He must be so confused.’

  I glance at the box of photographs on the dining room table and a sense of dread looms over me. I’m not ready to face the memories, to remind myself of the pain all over again. I might not have seen my son for a few weeks because he was always out working but he knew I was there whenever he needed me. Michael knew he was loved by both his father and me. I’m so proud to have raised such a hard-working man who took care of his family.

  ‘I’m going to mention it when I next go around. I can’t keep quiet about my concerns any longer. Daniel is our grandson, we owe it to him – and to Michael – to think about his welfare,’ I say. ‘I don’t even think that she is bathing him. I collected him from preschool this afternoon and he was filthy.’

  ‘He’s a kid though, Donna – all kids are filthy. I wouldn’t read too much into it yet but I do think we should keep a close eye on them. Is there anything we can do to support her more?’ Pete asks. ‘The poor girl has lost her husband so go easy on her, will you? I know how you can go in all guns blazing at times but she won’t thank you for it.’

  ‘There’s something else bothering me too. I think she’s started to drink more,’ I say, reminding myself of what Daniel said after I collected him from preschool. ‘Daniel mentioned to me that his Mummy has a special juice.’

  Pete raises his eyebrows and shakes his head.

  ‘What?’ he asks. ‘That could mean anything. A medicine perhaps, you know how she struggles to sleep.’

  ‘I’m sure there’s been times I can still smell the booze on her breath,’ I reply, concerned. ‘We’ve both seen the wine bottles, haven’t we. Now that Daniel is noticing it, doesn’t that concern you?’

  ‘Like I said,’ Pete says, ‘go easy on her. It’s a difficult time.’

  I give Pete the assurance he was looking for but that doesn’t hinder my concerns. He hasn’t had to hear or see what I have witnessed today. Jenny looked an utter mess. I understand that she has good days and bad days. However, we share similar grief.

  As cruel as it sounds, I knew Michael his whole life. I brought him into this world and I was there for his first steps and comforted him through every fall and grazed knee. I supported him through his exams and shaped the man he was. Jenny only knew him for barely just over five years. I don’t mean to be so harsh but
I am a realist. Michael provided her with a comfortable life through his own hard work.

  I’m trying not to shift any of the blame for my son’s death on Jenny. She is Daniel’s mother and will always be considered a part of this family. But I wonder if things had been different between them, would he still be alive now?

  I’ve never felt a pain like this.

  I collected Daniel from preschool and watched as he ran towards me with the biggest smile on his face and excited that his grandmother was there to greet him. It was as though I could see Michael, just as he was at that age, running towards me.

  ‘Michael,’ I said aloud and realised my mistake because I was lost in that brief moment within a daydream. ‘Come here to Mummy.’

  I don’t know what possessed me and my cheeks were flushed with the embarrassment. I hoped no one nearby had heard me. No one said anything anyway. Shortly after, I was saddened by the memories that came flooding back to me of Michaels first day at school. I always knew he would be an accountant from the smile on his face when he was given a colourful abacus. As a teen, he was fascinated by the extra buttons on the scientific calculators. Call it a mother’s instinct but I always said that my son would grow up to do well for himself. Michael was inspired by his own self-learning attitude in life. He had completed a bookkeeping course by the time he was sixteen. Accountancy for him was destiny.

  I miss you, son.

  ‘I’ll tell you what else concerns me,’ I shout to Pete who has returned to the table to sort out the photographs. ‘She seems to be obsessed with that missing wedding ring. I know she’s looked for it everywhere imaginable but she will not accept it’s likely lost from the accident.’

  ‘Understandable, don’t you think?’ Pete asks, ‘I’d be the same if it were yours. Do you think it’s because it has given her something to focus on – a bit of a mystery? It did just vanish, didn’t it?’