Raking the Ashes

by Anne Fine

  ‘Where’s Torbury Bay, Til?’

  I laid my finger on the little coastal haven into which Minna had vanished.

  ‘It’s not so far away from Sussex, then.’

  ‘No. Only five counties and about two hundred miles.’

  He missed the sarcasm. ‘So Tara’s right. We might as well arrange to visit while we’re down there anyway.’

  Thinking of all the times Geoff’s hints had fallen on deaf ears, I muttered, ‘You’ll be lucky,’ at the door Harry had let swing behind him. But lucky they were. Indeed, the suggestion that they drive along the coast for the weekend was snapped up eagerly. Minna was thrilled to show them her brand-new baby, and the sainted Elise apparently greeted the two young people as if they were long-lost family. Presumably with no extra barn in hand to offer the happy pair, she had to make do with bestowing her blessing – and going as far as hinting to Minna by the Sunday night that the only thing standing between Tara and the role of perfect godmother at little Pansy’s coming christening was the fact that she wasn’t yet married to Harry.

  ‘Strange that this Tara even gets to see my baby granddaughter before I do,’ Geoff groused, serving me notice with the unthinking little ‘I’ and ‘my’ that, now both his children appeared to be settling nicely after the troubles of the year before, I had gone back to being the invisible woman. It suited me. Invisibility can work two ways and, when you choose to let it, the habit of ignoring a partner’s claims may prove profitably catching. Within the last month, Mother had taken a definite turn for the worse. To me she looked the same: grey, curled and silent in her long barred cot. But one by one the nurses who popped in on me as I sat watching let drop sufficient hints to make it clear the end was coming fast. Ed made the noises but he didn’t book the flight, even after the final news came.

  He did at least apologize. ‘I feel a bit bad, Til, leaving all the arrangements to you. But, as you know, it is my busiest time. And, after all, if you look at it sensibly, what’s the point?’

  ‘So I’ll just get on with it, shall I?’

  ‘If you don’t mind.’

  And, if I’m honest, I preferred to sort things out alone. But what are you supposed to do with half the things in that last cardboard box? Spectacles still bearing fingerprints from the last time she made the effort to try to read a paper. Greetings cards that survived the last clear-out. The crucifix she never wore but couldn’t bring herself to throw away. And photos. Photos of dogs and Christmases, nephews and holidays, babies and gardens. All the detritus of a life that really finished years before. As quickly as I could, I rooted through for any official-looking papers I might need, then slammed the cardboard flaps down on the rest. Instead of setting off for home, I made excuses to Geoff (‘Just one or two more things to wrap up here’) and drove off the other way. It took a couple of hours, but finally I was back where I had driven in such a rage so many years before. The weather-beaten sign to Folly Leap still hung precariously from its post at the last fork in the road. From the outside, the small hotel looked just the same, but this time I didn’t stop. Instead, I took the car as far as I dared along the old dirt track that used to lead to Lartington Tower before the cliff crumbled. The place seemed very different without the comfort of moonlight. The last hundred yards were still fenced off for safety. I didn’t even bother to lock the car. The dark was so deep, even the most sharp-eyed thief would not have noticed it, hard up against the starless wall of black above the ocean. Lifting the box off the passenger seat, I rested it on the top of the DANGER! DO NOT VENTURE BEYOND THIS POINT sign as I climbed the gate, then carried it, step by careful step, over the ruts and tussocks of grass, to the cliff edge.

  And there I hurled the very last things over. The chain of the crucifix swirled away into darkness. The greetings cards took wing for a moment as the night wind lifted them, then they too were swallowed into black. I heard the tinkling of the spectacles as, tumbling, they caught a few feet down the cliff. Over it all went – mother’s vaccination certificates, the last school report card of which she was so proud, even the tiny vase I filled with daisies once when she was sick. Over they went: comb, nail clippers, hairbrush, scissors, leftover shampoo – even the half-empty box of someone else’s tissues that happened to be beside her bed on the morning she died. Over and gone, all of it, everything useless and valueless, into the dark, down to the rocks on which waves crashed.

  The rest of it I took back home with me. If you’re not stupefied with grief, all the procedures after a death seem remarkably simple. The terms of the will were clear – a simple brother and sister two-way split – and, making a fairly informed guess at the final amount after the bills were paid and taxes cleared, I realized I was quite grateful that Geoff had once again hoisted his personal flag over his own family. Indeed, I was pretty well sitting there waiting for the moment he brandished it, ready to pounce.

  It wasn’t long.

  ‘Is this you up in Aberdeen right through till Friday, Tilly?’ Geoffrey stabbed at the line I’d pencilled on the calendar. ‘Because I was thinking of phoning Minna again and asking if this week would be any better for me to go down south and meet my grandchild.’

  I. Me. My. Gone were the days of resentment. I could be all co-operation now that the grandchild Geoffrey didn’t want to share had been matched by the inheritance I didn’t want to share either. ‘No, no. You go, if it suits Minna this time. Go and enjoy yourself.’ I made for the door, then turned as if I’d just remembered something. ‘Oh, by the way, I had the most amazing phone call today. I tried to ring you but there were problems in the radio room. It seems that Mother’s left all her money to a cats’ home.’

  Admittedly I’d just come back from three grim weeks off Tripoli. We had crap welders. There had been troubles with the crane. And just as things were coming right again, we had hit shallow gas.

  But still. Bloody hell. A cats’ home!

  Clearly Geoff thought the same. ‘A cats’ home? All of it? You must be joking, Tilly!’ He looked totally baffled. ‘Surely your mother didn’t even have a cat.’

  Too late by then to go back and start again with some more credible deception. ‘Not at the end, no. But we had cats when Ed and I were growing up, and Mum was always very fond of them.’

  ‘Maybe she was. But that’s no reason why they should fart through silk!’

  The further his jaw dropped, the madder my whole lie sounded. I set about embroidering as fast as I could. ‘Well, as I understand it, the place has other animals as well. Donkeys, I think.’ I grew expansive. ‘In fact, it’s more a rescue centre, really.’ Geoff looked so angry I foresaw trouble on another front and added hastily, ‘But, after all, since it was Mother’s money it was her decision. And this is a will she made well before she went bats.’

  He stared at me. ‘You don’t seem very upset. I can’t believe it. For seven years you drove down to that godforsaken place to visit her, and now she’s left the whole lot to some mangy moggies!’ He took a fresh tack. ‘What will Ed say, for pity’s sake? Surely he’ll contest the will?’ Geoff gave me the most mistrustful look. ‘Tilly, you look so calm. Did you already know about all this?’

  ‘No,’ I said, most sincerely. And it was true that, till the astonishing claim popped out of my mouth, I hadn’t given this particular whopper a moment’s thought as a way of concealing Mum’s money.

  Geoff shook his head in wonder. ‘I can’t imagine what your brother will say.’

  I could, so I made a point of ringing him as soon as Geoff left the house. Ed roared with laughter. ‘Tilly, you are cruel. You’re wicked. You are a witch! How could you tell the poor sod something like that?’

  I said, a little ruefully, ‘It came out all too easily. You promise that you won’t let on?’

  Ed’s silence lasted for a little too long.

  I made the promise easier for him to keep. ‘After all, I can’t think how I’ll keep on managing if Geoff ever realizes …’

  ‘What do you mean?’


  ‘Well, you know our Geoff. Money dribbles away through his fingers. If I can’t keep my half of the inheritance safe, it won’t be long before I’m round to your house with the begging bowl.’

  Ed took the point. ‘All right. I won’t say anything. But you’re a nasty piece of work, Til. You could at least have told him she’d left it to starving children or limbless ex-servicemen, or something a little more worthy.’ He burst out laughing again. ‘My God! A cats’ home! Mother! Just imagine!’

  And certainly I don’t know what possessed me. But what had been the result of being too tired to think straight turned out to be a smart move. The thing is, even-stevens makes you happier. Revenge can heal. It makes it easier to be – even to want to be – a much nicer person. After I’d lied so horribly to Geoffrey, I found myself rushing out to buy him a nice suit exactly the same way an errant husband hurries home filled with affection for the wife and laden with flowers. And Geoff’s response to what he took to calling ‘your mother’s brainstorm’ brought home to me again in force the unalloyed good nature of his temperament. What was quite obvious was that the man was worrying only on my account, not on his own. The money meant nothing to him. Once I had managed to convince him I wasn’t deeply hurt, he let the matter drop at once. There was no nagging me to go to court to lay my mother’s wishes aside, no tiresome remarks about the things that I might have chosen to do differently if I had seen this coming. With Geoff, as ever, it was easy come and easy go, and I was pleasantly reminded of why I’d stayed with him so many years. We went to bed a lot. And, almost to thank him for being the obliging man he was, I lashed out on a most luxurious holiday. His brand-new boss at Stationery Supplies offered him unpaid leave to match the days I’d clocked up staying well away from Harry, and off we went. I was delighted by the thought of three weeks free from Geoffrey’s forlorn moods each time Minna told him it wasn’t quite the best time for him to come down and meet little Pansy. And Harry’s crassly insensitive announcement that he and Tara would soon be moving south as well, to be ‘nearer both families’, played a large part in making Geoffrey grateful to get away.

  It was a brilliant holiday, and once Geoff had been persuaded to lay family disappointments aside, we had the grandest time. The sea I’d come to regard as an ever-present danger raging below became, on that balmy island, a soft pet lapping at my toes. We ate like hungry wolves and slept like bears. And our sheer pleasure in each other’s company lasted till we came home. Perhaps the resort itself, so like a Shangri-La, had put Geoff back in the old frame of mind of thinking himself in Happy Valley. His optimism on the flight home was almost painful. ‘What’s the betting little Pansy’s put on a pound or two and is sleeping much better, and I’ll be allowed to go down and see her at last?’ And as the plane grazed the tarmac: ‘I expect Harry’s having second thoughts about moving so far away.’

  The instant we were in the house he rushed to the answerphone, and even before I’d gathered the last letters off the mat he was running through the messages.

  Then he was in the doorway. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘What, not from either of them?’

  ‘No – unless there’s something wrong with the machine.’ The sheer unlikelihood of only his son and daughter’s messages vanishing into the ether struck him at once. He faced facts. ‘Nothing.’

  Even I was startled. ‘In three whole weeks!’

  ‘We’re has-beens,’ Geoffrey told me mournfully. ‘The have their own lives now, and we don’t even rate a simple message about whether Tara and Harry found any flats down south they really liked, or from Minna about Pansy’s first tooth or whatever.’

  ‘Not teeth,’ I said. ‘Surely not teeth already.’ But what I really wanted to say was, ‘No, Geoff. Not “we”. Don’t try to count me in on these things now, just because you feel lonely.’ Seething, I left the room. And mercifully the last two messages were about a problem with the new portable high-pressure wash-down pumps, so I could pretend to be busy till Geoffrey was asleep.

  Next day I phoned Sol. ‘Any post for me?’

  ‘You’re a bad girl, Til,’ he scolded. ‘And, it seems, a bad girl with quite a large nest-egg.’

  ‘You’ve shoved it safely into an account, I hope.’

  ‘Already ticking over – though they are insisting you sign some forms.’ He coughed politely. ‘And, in return for the favour …?’

  ‘Thursday,’ I told him. ‘Weather permitting, the heiress will be back on shore by noon. I’ll drive straight down.’

  I’d always loved the way Sol chuckled. ‘There’s my Bad Tilly. I’ll be sitting up in bed, waiting with champagne.’

  Finally, halfway through April, the invitation came to meet the baby. Geoff was ecstatic. ‘Minna’s just rung. They’re going to have the christening next month. In the village church. And we’re invited.’ His face dropped just a little. ‘Though Minna did warn me that, what with Elise not having quite enough bedrooms in the main house for all her guests, she and Josh have had to offer to put up a couple of nephews.’

  ‘You mean there won’t be room for us to stay?’

  ‘It seems not.’

  ‘And I suppose it hasn’t occurred to Josh to ask his parents, who live round the corner.’

  ‘I did try hinting. But Minna said Natalie and Caspar have been so wonderful with the baby that she doesn’t feel she can ask them to spend any more of their time on other members of her family.’

  ‘So we’re in Bed and Breakfast, are we?’ Rather than dwell on Minna’s sheer ungraciousness, I took a fresh tack. ‘And will Tara be godmother, even though she and Harry aren’t yet married?’

  Geoff’s face lit up again. ‘Good news there! It seems that, what with the wedding date at least being fixed, even Elise thinks—’

  I interrupted him. ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That. About the wedding date being fixed.’

  ‘Well, no. Minna’s only just told me.’

  Easy to look back now and wonder if he wasn’t a shade too glib. And, if I’m honest, I remember thinking it strange even back then that news of his son’s marriage took second place to the news of the baby’s christening. But all I said was, ‘Fixed for when?’

  ‘First week of June, apparently.’

  And that’s where we came in, of course. ‘What, before the eighth?’ I’d said as I stared at him. ‘It’s the week of the inspections. You know they’re always at the start of June.’

  He couldn’t say it fast enough. ‘I’ll ring Harry tomorrow.’

  I felt such irritation. ‘You can’t do that. We haven’t even been invited yet.’ To stop him trying to fob me off with his benighted optimism about his uncaring children, I spelled it out. ‘You can’t go telling them to change the dates for something you still only know about by accident.’

  The last words clearly stung. ‘Scarcely by accident!’

  I wasn’t going to let him off the hook. ‘I don’t see what else you’d call it. It’s not as if Harry’s had the courtesy to ring up and ask, after all. “Oh, by the way, Dad, Tara and I are thinking of getting married. Would this date be all right for you and Tilly?”’

  ‘So are you saying I should just let them carry on with the arrangements as they are now?’

  ‘I think that’s best. After all, you can still go.’ I turned sarcastic. ‘And it won’t be the first time I’ll have missed a family occasion.’

  Instantly, he made for the phone. ‘Well, I am going to ring them.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Now you’re just being silly.’

  What is it about men, that they’re so quick to disparage a woman’s emotions? ‘Don’t call my feelings “being silly”, please. Your son’s wedding matters to you, but my pride matters to me and I don’t want you phoning on my account. If it’s their choice not to check dates with me, it’s equally my choice not to have you ring them.’

  Unable to argue the point, Geoffrey changed tack. ‘Look, I expect they just didn’t t
hink about it.’

  I acted as incredulous as I felt. ‘How would they not think about it? Harry knows my job. He knows that once a year I go off on inspections and that the schedule is set in stone. If he was bothered, he’d have phoned to check.’

  He tried another blind alley. ‘Surely I could just mention it …’

  But I’d had enough. ‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, Geoff! Haven’t you learned yet that, in a family like this, there’s no such thing as “simply mentioning” something?’

  He didn’t answer, so I just slammed out. I skipped the christening. After all, she wasn’t my grandchild, and Cornwall’s a long way away. I can’t remember what excuse I gave. I do know where I was, because Sol and I did take the trouble to raise a glass of bubbly to the child, and wish her well. ‘What family occasion are you missing next?’ Sol asked me gallantly as we fell apart. ‘May I put it down now in my diary?’ ‘Certainly,’ I answered. ‘It will be the third of June. Harry and Tara’s wedding. But, tragically, I’ll be in the North Sea, prowling round looking for unauthorized modifications and other safety lapses.’

  ‘Ah. The famous inspections.’

  But, as I said, what with the blow-out at Troendseim, the inspections were all delayed and I ended up at the wedding. And wasn’t I glad about that! I look back now and realize that, without that bright morning in Sussex, I might have carried on for years more living in half-light. Why, I might still be there, watching him blind himself to the truth about his self-centred children, and pretending to share his life in cloud cuckoo land.

  The day started well enough. Tara’s widowed mother greeted us warmly. She seemed an unassuming soul, with bandages on her legs, and was disposed to think me wonderful from the start because, seeing the caterer anxiously struggling with his hot-water urn, I’d strolled across to diagnose the problem. ‘How clever of you!’ she enthused when I came back, as if I’d single-handedly designed a desalination plant, not simply shifted an air lock. ‘I’m lost in admiration. Harry, dear, did you see what your mother just—’