‘Yes, of course I can,’ Adrian said. ‘But we’ve thought about it a lot—’
We’d only had the idea yesterday! He caught my eye and I knew he was thinking the same thing.
‘And we just can’t think of a reason why not.’
‘Why don’t you move in together, see how things—’
‘Dad, trust me, okay? We’re not teenagers, we don’t want to “see how it goes”. We want to make a proper, public commitment.’
His dad sighed. ‘I wish your mum was still alive. I wonder what she’d have thought?’ He turned to me. ‘What do your parents think, Leah?’
I explained that it was just my dad and that he was away this week, but that I was sure he’d be pleased once he understood how we felt. I mentally crossed my fingers as I said this.
Paul sat up straight again. ‘You’re grown adults, both of you, and of course you must make your own decisions. But would you do one thing for me, Adrian?’
‘Probably – depends.’
‘Talk to your grandma. She’s a wise woman, and she’s always been remarkably astute when it comes to knowing what’s best for you and Christopher.’
‘Of course,’ Adrian said. ‘I’ll call Chris later, too.’
‘Good.’ Paul nodded. ‘Good.’ He turned to me. ‘I hope you don’t think I’m not pleased for you both, Leah, because I am, but—’
‘I understand,’ I assured him. ‘My dad still worries about me, too.’
He smiled, a little sadly. ‘I’d probably worry less if my wife were still around to share these concerns. I’m sure your father feels the same.’
I felt flat as we got back into the car, despite the fact that his dad had genuinely seemed to like me. He clearly thought we were out of our minds to be getting married so early in our relationship, and he probably wouldn’t be the only one. We’d been so caught up in the excitement and romance of what we were doing, we hadn’t really considered that other people wouldn’t be as ecstatic about it as we were. For the first time I felt a pinprick of doubt. Not about Adrian – I had no doubts about being with him – but maybe we should wait a while. On the other hand, we were in love, we were inseparable – I already resented every moment we spent apart.
I could feel Adrian looking at me as he started the engine.
‘Leah, what is it? You’re not going to let my dad’s reaction bother you, are you?’
I turned to face him. ‘We’re not being stupid and we just can’t see it, are we?’ The moment I said it, I wished I hadn’t – what if he said yes, perhaps we are being stupid?
‘Oh, Leah.’ He took my hand. ‘Is that what you think? No one can be certain what’s going to happen in the future, but being together for years before you get married doesn’t stop things going wrong, does it? My cousin Emily – the one I told you about who’s just got divorced? They lived together for four and a half years, had a big fancy church wedding that cost a fortune and now, two years down the line, they can’t stand the sight of each other.’ He leaned over and kissed me softly. ‘I’m prepared to risk it if you are. I want to risk it.’
‘It doesn’t sound stupid at all when you put it like that.’
‘I honestly don’t think it is. I suppose no one ever knows for sure, do they? Marriage doesn’t come with a guarantee. All I know is, I want to be with you.’
‘I want be with you, too.’ One thing I knew for sure was that I wouldn’t be happy at all if we weren’t together, and I also knew my feelings wouldn’t change in the foreseeable future. So why wait?
He smiled again now. ‘Not stupid,’ he said. Another kiss, a peck this time. ‘Clever!’
I laughed. Everything was upbeat again. He turned the music on and we set off.
‘Right,’ he said, his tone as cheery as it had been earlier. ‘Let’s go and tell my granny.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
NOW
I go through the motions in a daze. When Diane next door touches me lightly on the arm and mutters how sorry she is, I’m so surprised that all I can do is nod. She doesn’t linger, though. I carry on moving around the room thanking people for coming, accepting condolences and handing round the plates of sandwiches that Judy, my sister-in-law, spent all morning making. It seems slightly absurd that people are standing here eating sandwiches when my husband has just died, and for a split second I have an urge to throw the plate at the wall. I still can’t quite take it in. I pour myself a whisky and drink it neat, in two swallows. The fiery hit is instantly soothing and it occurs to me now, as it has in the past, how easy it would be to abandon myself to alcohol.
Not everyone who was at the crematorium has come back to the house, but more than I expected. Adrian’s dad is sitting on a hard chair in the corner, red-eyed and somehow smaller. He’s wearing a white shirt and black tie, and the same charcoal-coloured suit he wore to my dad’s funeral, but it swamps him now. His woman-friend, Helen – Adrian told me off for calling her his girlfriend – had planned to come with him, but her daughter went into labour this morning and she’s had to go and pick up the older children from school. Helen is fairly new on the scene, but already Paul looks lost without her. ‘Paul.’ I pull up a chair so I can sit next to him. ‘How are you doing?’
He shakes his head and sighs, then reaches into his pocket, pulls out a huge white handkerchief and wipes his eyes. ‘Never mind me,’ he says. His voice is hoarse and I suspect he’s been crying. ‘It’s you I’m worried about.’ He places his age-spotted hand over mine and I nod in acknowledgement. I can feel my own tears brimming, but they won’t quite spill over. We sit like that for a few minutes, watching Judy and Chris topping up drinks and bringing in trays of tea. They’ve been brilliant. I don’t know how I’d have coped without them.
Reluctantly, I leave Paul so I can carry on circulating, making sure I’ve thanked everyone, though I have to keep slipping outside to smoke a cigarette. I can’t get through this otherwise. There aren’t that many neighbours here, although I put notes through several doors. Diane appears to have gone home already, but I feel disproportionately grateful that she came and that she actually spoke to me. She’s barely been able to look at me these last few years, and I miss her friendship. I just wish I’d said something in return instead of staring at her like an idiot. Most of the people here are Adrian’s friends and colleagues, and it’s clear that some of them prefer to share their memories of him with each other rather than with me. There are a few unfamiliar faces who are happy enough to talk to me, though, and as I listen to the glowing tributes, I’m touched by the genuine warmth that people clearly feel for him. I’m not surprised, of course, but I have to keep reminding myself that I can’t tell him about it later.
‘Leah, I’m so sorry.’ Richard Clarke, Adrian’s long-term friend and colleague. ‘I don’t know what to say. I still can’t believe it.’
‘Me neither.’
He puts his hand on my arm. ‘How are you? Are you coping?’
‘I’m not sure I’ve really taken it in yet. I still feel numb. I’ve been hoping today would . . . you know.’
He nods. ‘That’s what funerals are for, isn’t it? Let’s hope that once this is over, you can start to . . .’ He looks at me. ‘Christ, as if you haven’t been through enough.’
I can feel my eyes filling with tears. Sometimes, hostility is easier to deal with than kindness, but Richard has always been kind. Adrian said it was Richard who held him together during the time I was in hospital. And then later, after I came home from the unit, he was there for both of us, cooking meals, taking us out for days in the country or by the sea, showing us it was possible to carry on, letting us see that we still had each other.
‘Leah, I hope you don’t mind me asking – tell me to sod off and mind my own business – but do you have . . . well.’ He shifts to the other foot, looking uncomfortable. ‘The support to get you through this?’
‘Don’t worry, Richard. I’m still taking the tablets.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.’
‘It’s fine, really. I’m not offended. My GP’s very good. I’ve got sleeping tablets if I need them, and a number to call about bereavement counselling.’
He nods and then sighs. ‘I know it’s a cliché, but I mean this: if there’s anything I can do, just shout, okay? I mean . . .’ He shakes his head. ‘This is so fucked up. Anything at all, Leah. Promise me you’ll let me know.’
‘Thanks, Rich, I appreciate that.’ I hesitate. ‘Actually, there is one thing. You were at the Leeds conference, weren’t you?’
He nods. ‘He talked about you, you know, when we went for a drink.’
‘Did he?’ I feel a flush of warmth in my chest. ‘What did he say?’
‘Oh, just how pleased he is that – shit, sorry. I still can’t get used to talking about him in the past tense. He was saying how pleased he was about you getting back into teaching, how he thought it was the right thing to do. He worried about you, you know.’
‘I know.’ My eyes swim again as I remember how he’d often call me from work, even in the middle of a day packed with meetings, or when he was trying to finish a paper. And his gentle hints about things that might help me make new friends or reconnect with old ones. I dab at my eyes. ‘Richard, come out here for a minute, will you?’ I lead the way out into the hall, away from everyone else. ‘Look, I don’t want to put you in an awkward position or anything, but do you know where Adrian was going when he had the accident?’
Richard appears surprised. ‘He was on his way home, wasn’t he?’
‘No, that’s the point. He was on the A621, halfway between Castledene and Baslow.’
He looks blank, and I remember he doesn’t know the area. ‘Thing is, there was no reason at all for him to be on that road, or near those villages.’
‘Maybe he took the long way round, to avoid traffic.’
I shake my head. ‘No. And it’s not just that.’ I swallow. ‘He lied to me.’ Saying it out loud for the first time makes it more real.
‘What, Adrian did? What about?’
‘He told me the conference finished at six and that he was going out for a drink with you and some of the others afterwards.’
It’s clear from Richard’s expression that this is news to him. ‘Well, er—’
‘But I’ve since found out it finished at noon.’
‘There must be an explanation.’ His face colours with discomfort. ‘Maybe he was . . . I don’t know, maybe he just wanted to look at the scenery after being shut in that stuffy conference centre . . .’ His voice trails off, but then he shakes his head. ‘There’s bound to be some reason.’
‘He told me the car was at the station and he’d get a taxi home and pick it up the next day. Why would he do that?’
Richard sighs. ‘I don’t know. But listen, does it matter? I don’t know what you think he was up to, but you know Adrian adored you. He’s proved that these last few years, surely?’
There is an edge to his voice now. Could he be covering for Adrian? Maybe I’m reading too much into it.
‘Leah.’ His voice softens again. ‘Is it really important whether he changed his mind and decided to drive after all? What matters is he’s . . . he’s gone.’ I hear the emotion catch his voice. He clears his throat. ‘Any more of that Scotch?’
I pour us both another drink and assure Richard that yes, I’ll be fine financially, and yes, I’ll let him know if there’s anything he can do.
Back in the sitting room, a group of Adrian’s colleagues are standing near the window. I spot Angela, and then John and Tony, all of whom I know were there in Leeds. I move nearer to them, gradually joining their conversation. As soon as it feels right, I ask if they remember whether Adrian had happened to mention to any of them what his plans were after the conference finished. They all say no, and they seem genuinely puzzled. ‘I reckon he was planning a surprise,’ Angela says. ‘Do you have a birthday coming up? Some sort of anniversary?’
‘No, nothing like that. Surprises aren’t really an Adrian sort of thing.’ It’s usually me who arranges things like that. We didn’t go out at all for a couple of years, but recently we’d started having the odd meal out again, choosing a nicer restaurant for special occasions. But it was always me who booked the table. The nearest Adrian ever came to surprising me was to bring me flowers when I was feeling particularly low.
I’ve been standing for too long now and my back is beginning to ache quite badly. I glance at my stick tucked in the corner behind an armchair, but if I started using it now it would feel like I was waving a banner, so instead I walk slowly to the kitchen so I can take some painkillers. When I return, a few people are gathering bags and scarves and saying polite farewells. Judy is fetching coats from the hall. There’s a couple standing at the door, and as the woman kisses Chris politely on the cheek while her husband kisses Judy, I realise who they are – Adrian’s old schoolfriend, Rob, and his wife Alison. I didn’t notice them at the crematorium. Alison hitches her bag further up her shoulder as she and Rob look around the room. I walk over, ready to apologise for not having spotted them earlier. They turn towards me, faces open and expectant. Rob takes a step forward and leans down to kiss my cheek. ‘I’m so sorry, Leah,’ he says. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Thank you. And thank you so much for coming – I know it’s a long way.’ I turn to Alison. ‘I really appreciate it.’
Alison’s eyes flicker and she looks away as she mutters her condolences. Then she puts her hand on her husband’s arm. ‘We really ought to make a move.’
Rob nods. ‘Yes, we should, I suppose.’ He smiles at me again. ‘The M1 can be a nightmare this time of day. Anyway, nice to see you, Leah, but sorry it’s in such unhappy circumstances.’
‘Rob,’ Alison says, frowning and hitching her bag up onto her shoulder again.
‘Well, thanks again for coming.’
Alison gives a tight little nod and hurries out into the hall, followed by her embarrassed-looking husband.
CHAPTER NINE
NOW
Judy insists on helping me load the dishwasher and tidy the sitting room before she and Chris head back to Cambridge. They offer to drive Paul home – he’s had a couple of large whiskies, so he’ll have to leave his car here – but I can see he isn’t ready to be on his own just yet. ‘Don’t worry about your dad,’ I tell Chris. ‘I’ll make up a bed for him here, or if he doesn’t want to stay I’ll put him in a taxi. And thanks for everything, both of you – you’ve been fantastic.’
After they’ve gone, I try to persuade Paul to stay the night. He says he prefers his own bed, but I suspect it’s more that he thinks he’s imposing. ‘Stay for a bit longer,’ I urge, sitting down next to him at the kitchen table. ‘See how you feel. It’ll take me two minutes to make up a bed.’
He sighs heavily and then nods. ‘All right, dear. If you’re sure you don’t mind, I think I will stay for a while.’
‘Of course I don’t mind. I could do with the company.’ I’m glad he’s staying. I’m fond of my father-in-law. He looks exhausted. Older, too, and still slightly bewildered, as if he can’t quite believe this has happened.
‘Thank you.’ He pats my hand and sighs again. ‘You’re a good girl, Leah.’
At that moment, his phone rings. His face softens as soon as he answers. I go back into the sitting room to give him some privacy, but after a minute or so he follows me in. ‘I’ve got Helen on the phone – she’s wondering if it’s too late to come over. I think she wants to offer her condolences.’
‘That’s nice of her, and of course it’s not too late, but I thought she was . . . I mean, how is everything? With her daughter?’
His gaze flickers and he breaks eye contact. ‘I gather it all went smoothly. Her son-in-law and his mother are there now as well, so she’s free for the time being. She said she’ll drive me home later, and bring me back in the morning for the car.’
‘Oh, okay. And is her daughter all right? What did she have?’
‘Ye
s, both well.’ He turns back towards the kitchen, and I only just hear him mutter, ‘Little girl, I believe.’
‘Tell her congratulations,’ I call after him. He’s trying to protect me, but he doesn’t need to. It’s hard for me to hear about people’s new babies, but I’m used to it now. Life goes on, as they say. Even Adrian said that once.
When I open the door to Helen, she reaches out and immediately pulls me into a hug. I haven’t seen her since a couple of weeks before the accident, and I’d only met her a handful of times before that. Adrian and I both liked her as soon as we met her. Her warmth is so genuine that I find myself choking up again.
‘You poor, dear girl. What a terrible thing to happen. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.’ She holds me for a good few seconds before releasing me.
‘Thank you,’ I say, touched to see that there are actual tears in her eyes.
‘I lost my husband six years ago, and I’ve never known such grief.’ Then she puts her hand on my arm and squeezes. ‘And you have known far too much already.’ At that point, Paul comes out into the hall to greet her and I wonder how much he’s told her. They embrace each other tightly, and when they pull away, they both wipe their eyes.
She’s tiny, about Paul’s age, maybe a bit younger, dressed in expensive-looking blue jeans and a red fitted jacket. Her salt-and-pepper hair is short and prettily styled, and her make-up and jewellery are subtle and flattering.
I congratulate Helen on her new grandchild and I ask after her daughter but, like Paul, she seems afraid of upsetting me so we quickly move on. I offer her tea or coffee or a drink. ‘Tea with one sugar would be lovely,’ she says. ‘And maybe a teeny sherry if you have any?’
The Flight of Cornelia Blackwood Page 4
