Beyond Death (The Afterlife Series Book 1)

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Beyond Death (The Afterlife Series Book 1) Page 6

by Deb McEwan


  ‘So you want to come home for the weekend? It’s a bit short notice.’ She tried to keep the surprise out of her voice. The only times he’d stayed the weekend during the past fifteen years had been for Mel’s birthdays or other special occasions when she’d made a fuss, and these occasions had been planned well in advance. Something was up.

  ‘I’ll explain when I get there, but we need to talk. Can Mel stay with a friend tonight?’

  Carol explained that Mel was staying with a friend from boarding school that weekend so wouldn’t be home. It wasn’t Mel that Carol would have to get rid of and she hesitated, trying to think of a solution.

  ‘Carol? You there, Carol?’

  ‘Yes of course. Actually, Graham. It’s not very convenient this weekend, I have plans.’

  ‘What do you mean you have plans? I need to stay and I need to talk to you, Carol.’

  ‘I’m going away for the weekend,’ said Carol, clutching at straws. ‘To Butlins with some friends, sorry love.’

  Graham was a little put out but not too bothered. He could do with some time on his own to get his head around his current situation.

  ‘Not a problem. I’ll stay at the house anyway until you get back.’

  ‘No. No you can’t. One of the reasons I’m going away is because I’m getting new windows put in downstairs. It’s Roger’s firm and they’re working Saturday and Sunday so it will be finished by the time I get back.’

  ‘Okay, said Graham,’ smelling a rat. ‘I’ll see you Monday evening.’

  They hung up and Carol was relieved that he’d accepted her story.

  ‘Everything all right, love?’ He shouted from the living room and she answered that it was fine and that she’d be down in a minute. She went to the bathroom and checked her face. Her colour was normal and she smiled and made her way downstairs. That had been a close one and she wondered why she lied to him about Roger when he had his own double-life. The only one it wasn’t really fair on was Roger. It wasn’t the first time that Carol wondered why she didn’t make a clean break from Graham and have an honest and serious relationship with kind, dependable Roger.

  Two hours later Graham arrived unexpectedly and discovered that the rat he had smelled was named Roger. Roger left them to it and Carol was furious that Graham had spoiled her weekend life. He was mad that she’d been deceiving him.

  ‘Let me get this right,’ she said, hands on hips and scowling. ‘You can have a whole other life and family, but I have to sit here on my own when you’re not about, like a good little woman?’

  ‘It’s the deceit, Carol. I have never deceived you. And I can’t bear the thought of another man touching you.’

  Carol laughed bitterly. ‘I really liked Roger and you’ve ruined it. Get out Graham. I should have done this a long time ago. It’s over.’

  Graham shook his head, but Carol was insistent. He left, head hanging, defeated.

  Having managed to lose both his wife and lover within a matter of hours, Graham was gutted. He was surprised to discover that he felt worse about losing Marion than he had about Carol. He’d still be able to see Mel and would also support her, so that wasn’t a problem. Being the practical man that he was, he knew he had to deal with his immediate concerns and find a place to stay for the weekend. Marion thought Graham had his own apartment but ever thrifty, for the last three years he had rented an en-suite room Monday to Friday on the understanding that he’d be away every weekend. The rent was cheap and it gave him more money to maintain his double life, a lot of good that did him now he tutted. Margaret and Bernie were a kindly old couple and didn’t bother him. He was at Carol’s or working late most nights and only saw his landlord and landlady briefly before leaving for work each morning. There was no way Graham could return to his room this late on a Friday night. He toyed with the idea of contacting his sons but didn’t fancy the drive to London and wasn’t ready to explain that their mother was divorcing him. He assumed that Marion would eventually tell the twins about Carol and Mel and he didn’t want to face that conversation with them until he had to. It was in this frame of mind that Graham booked into a Travelodge for the weekend. He entered the room and dropped his bag on the floor. He turned on the television and grabbed a plastic beaker from the bathroom. He poured a large measure of the half bottle of whisky into the cup and knocked it down in one, ignoring the raw burning sensation in his throat. He was drinking to forget and within an hour was spark out fully clothed on the bed, the whisky having done its job.

  *****

  Val felt like a zombie while taking the tablets. The doctor had prescribed tranquilisers and she’d used them as a crutch since the death of Ron and Ken. They didn’t assuage the guilt but did stop her from bursting into tears randomly, whether in public or in private. She’d been off work sick. They said it was depression but Val knew that her guilt was to blame for everything she felt except for the grief. Mostly she couldn’t tell the difference from the grief and the guilt, knowing that they both hurt like hell. She’d taken Ron for granted and missed him so much. She wondered how she could ever have fancied that idiot Ken. His death had been shocking but nothing to compare with how she’d felt when the policeman had told her about Ron. It was all her fault and she knew that if she hadn’t slept with Ken, Ron would still be alive and they could work out their problems. She would never have the opportunity to make things up to Ron now and that was something else to feel bad about. Val knew that she couldn’t carry on with her life like this. She had to do something to make herself feel useful again. She hadn’t taken the tablets for two days and the fuzziness was beginning to fade. The walls were closing in on her and she felt the urge to get out of the house.

  Black clouds were rushing across the sky as if trying to win a race and the wind was whipping up the few leaves left from autumn into a frenzy. Val didn’t notice as she walked to the bus stop, lost in her own dark thoughts. She didn’t have long to wait and was soon sitting in the warm bus, the atmosphere muggy and dank from the moist air and other passengers. Arriving in town the rain had just started and Val stood on the pavement ignoring the people rushing around her and wondering what she should do. Shaking herself aware she decided to go into the Mall. At least she’d be dry wandering around aimlessly in there.

  Two hours later she’d bought a scarf and gloves that she didn’t really need, a hat for Libby and a new phone cover for Carl. She made her way up the escalator to browse in Debenhams. Looking at nothing in particular on the escalator going down she saw a face she recognised.

  It was the mother of Claire, the girl who’d died with Ron and she was sobbing. They’d hadn’t met before, but Val recognized her face from the Memorial Service.

  ‘Hello,’ she called. ‘Hello.’ The people on the down escalator turned to stare at Val but Claire’s mother kept facing forward, too absorbed in her own grief thought Val. She hurried to the top of the escalator then ran back and made her way quickly down the other, her eyes following Marion all the while. She quickly caught up with her and tapped Marion on the shoulder. Marion turned, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Val could see how upset she was and started crying herself.

  ‘I’m Val,’ she said between the tears. ‘Ron’s wife.’ Marion’s expression changed from confused to sympathetic and Val saw the effort it took for her to try and control herself.

  Val took a breath and fought to control her own emotions. To say it had been heart breaking to lose her own husband was an understatement, but she couldn’t imagine life without Carl or Libby. It was against all the laws of nature for parents to outlive their children yet this woman had lost a child and Val’s heart went out to her, and for a moment she was able to put her own feelings to the back of her mind.

  ‘Shall we go for a coffee?’ Marion nodded silently and Val led them to the coffee shop on the next corner.

  Now on a mission, Val grabbed a booth in the corner that had just been vacated. It gave them a bit of privacy and they could also people watch the shoppers if they wante
d. The waitress took their order and Marion composed herself.

  ‘I’m so embarrassed. I’ve learnt to control myself at home, but everything about London reminds me of Claire and the boys.’ She explained that the twins had invited her down for the weekend.

  ‘I told them their father’s working away and can’t get home this weekend.’

  ‘I see,’ said Val. It was obvious by her tone that Marion had lied to her sons and Val wondered why. She didn’t have to wait long.

  ‘I threw Graham out,’ said Marion and Val nodded encouragement.

  ‘I’ve known for years that he had another life and family but was willing to put up with it.’ The waitress came with the drinks and Val tried her best not to look shocked. Marion didn’t look like the type who would put up with nonsense from anyone, never mind her husband. It just goes to show that you can’t judge a book by its cover she thought.

  ‘Then when we lost Claire, I didn’t see the point any more. She always lived her life to the full just like my mother, and something changed in me.’

  Losing her daughter must have been a lot to deal with, and now her marriage. Val’s heart went out to Marion and she put a hand over hers.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ Was all she could manage but Marion seemed to appreciate the gesture.

  ‘So your sons don’t know?’

  Marion shook her head. ‘Not yet, no. I was hoping that their father would tell them but it’s been two months and he still hasn’t said anything. Tony and Jim aren’t stupid and know something’s going on,’ she lifted her mug and took a sip of coffee. ‘If Graham doesn’t say anything soon I’ll have to, but it should be him, especially as they’ve got a half-sister.’

  ‘Oh, poor you, Marion. What are you going to do?’

  ‘I really don’t know. I feel the need to get away and do something useful. I can’t stand the pain and sitting around thinking of Claire every day is slowly killing me.’

  Something clicked with Val. Although their circumstances were different she’d found another lost soul who seemed to feel exactly the same as she did.

  ‘I was having an affair when Ron died.’ Val blurted it out and now it was Marion’s turn to look shocked.

  ‘Oh.’ Val noticed her withdraw straight away and felt the need to explain.

  ‘It was stupid and he wasn’t half the man that my husband was. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life and now Ron’s gone and I can never tell him how sorry I am.’ She started crying and Marion reached out to comfort her. She knew what it was like to be the wronged woman, but was determined not to judge Val. Nobody knew what went on inside a marriage except the married couple and though Val had made a mistake, Marion could see that it was now destroying her. Val stopped crying and looked at her new friend.

  ‘He died of a heart attack the same night as Ron died. Ron dying was my punishment and I’ll never forgive myself.’

  Marion gasped.

  ‘How tragic and how awful for you.’ Marion squeezed her hand. ‘You can’t blame yourself, Val. It’s a horrible coincidence yes, but not your fault.’

  ‘But it must be. If I wasn’t having an affair Ron wouldn’t have been on night shift and would never have died, and neither would Ken.’

  ‘It was their time, Val. They would have died that day whatever they’d been doing. That’s the way it is. Not easy to hear or understand, but that’s life I’m afraid. It wasn’t your fault.’ She smiled weakly.

  ‘You really believe that? That there was nothing I could have done to prevent Ron’s death, or Ken’s? Ken wasn’t half the man that Ron was and I don’t know what I saw in him. I’m so sorry.’ The last was said to herself.

  ‘Listen, you can’t change anything, Val. You need to try and move on.’ Marion knew that she should take her own advice but for the moment, felt an overwhelming need to comfort her new friend.

  The irony wasn’t lost on Val.

  ‘Talk about the blind leading the blind,’ said Val.

  They looked out of the window as a person dressed as a clown walked by. The clown seemed out of place among the casually dressed shoppers in the Mall and the women did a double take and looked at each other, the bizarre sight lightening their mood. Marion’s eyes twinkled and her smile turned into a giggle. Val chuckled and both women erupted into fits of laughter, releasing the tension of the previous months. Other patrons looked toward the booth in the corner and when Marion stood to make her way to the toilets, were surprised to see a middle-aged woman and not a youngster.

  They both felt better for crying, laughing and talking and sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes on Marion’s return. An idea had been forming in Val’s head and she decided to run it by her new friend. At worst she would say no, but there was a chance that she might go along with it.

  ‘Marion?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You know you said you want to get away and do something?’

  Marion leaned forward, curious.

  ‘Well, have you heard of the charity People Against Poverty?’

  ‘Hasn’t everyone?’ Marion had seen the TV adverts requesting funds, the mental images of the poor children that had disappeared because of her own personal grief, now returned.

  ‘Well,’ said Val. ‘Would you consider working for them?’

  ‘I haven’t really thought about doing something like that.’

  ‘We could maybe do it together. Doing something for charity would make me feel better about myself and I would be happier if I had company. You seem to be at a loose end and we could really make a difference...’

  Val stopped, and wondered if she’d made a mistake. Marion seemed to be looking at something in the far distance and Val wasn’t sure whether she was still paying attention. She couldn’t wait any longer.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Do you know,’ Marion smiled. ‘That might just be the saving of me. When do we start?’

  They chatted for a little longer about their families, the unfairness of life, but mostly about the opportunities ahead. The time flew and when the waitress asked if they’d like to order food they decided it was time to leave. They swapped telephone numbers and email addresses and Val said she’d do further research and let Marion know the outcome.

  ‘I’m not going to say anything to my children until I know whether we’ll be accepted.’ Said Val and Marion agreed that was a good idea. After an awkward hug, they departed in different directions, each woman with a new sense of purpose and a spring in her step.

  Strike when the iron’s hot thought Val as she picked up the phone to dial the charity some time later. She knew that if she didn’t do it now she might lose her bottle. After a nerve-wracking but pleasant conversation, she hung up and called Marion with the news that their initial interviews, by telephone, had been scheduled for the following Tuesday. The woman had explained that subject to passing the phone interview and a police and criminal records check they could expect to be loaded onto a course within the next few months.

  *****

  Val was waiting for Carl and Libby to arrive and Ron awaited the arrival of his children with almost as much enthusiasm and anticipation as his wife. He hadn’t seen them since his funeral and was keen to see how they were getting on. Carl was studying Computer Science at Edinburgh University and although Ron was inordinately proud of his son, he had missed their Sunday afternoons together for the past three years. It was just as well that Carl was undertaking a project in London and had travelled down the previous night otherwise Val would have had to give him her news, whatever that was, over the phone. Libby, studying History and English at London University lived on the other side of the city and, Ron assumed, was coming home for the weekend.

  They met outside on the pavement approaching each other from opposite directions. Libby hadn’t seen her younger brother since their father’s funeral and seeing him now reminded her of that awful day. They hugged for a long time until Libby stopped crying. She dried her eyes and did her best to look cheerful. She didn�
�t want her mother to see how upset she was in case it started her off. Carl gave his sister a gentle push and she walked up the concrete steps to the house followed by her brother.

  Val had watched her children hugging and her daughter crying and was in floods of tears when she opened the front door, so Libby’s efforts had been to no avail. Carl quickly excused himself and made his way to the kitchen to make the coffee.

  That’s my boy thought Ron smiling to himself. Carl was exactly like he was, beating a hasty retreat as soon as the women became emotional, or wanted to talk about their feelings. Carl returned to the lounge and Ron could see that Val was ready to impart her news.

  ‘I know you were both worried about me taking tranquilisers.’ Her children nodded. ‘You’ll be glad to know that I’ve stopped them and so far so good, touch wood.’ She tapped the table with her forefinger and looked up, brandishing a big smile.

  Both glad to see their mother starting to look well again, Libby knew there’d been other changes. She hadn’t seen her mother for a few weeks and she sensed an air of optimism compared to the last time she’d been home when the house seemed to have been mired in a fog of gloom and doom. Although this was understandable Libby had still been relieved to return to the norm of university.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I’ve enrolled on a course.’

  ‘Oh, well done, Mum. Good for you. When do you start?’

  ‘Second week in January.’

  ‘That’s great. Which night?’ Said Carl, assuming that his mother was going to evening classes.

  ‘It’s a full-time course, Carl. On the outskirts of the city and I’ll be staying in a hotel.’

  ‘Oh, right. How long?’ Carl wasn’t sure how he felt about his mother going away for a course so wanted to hear more.

  ‘It’s only a week.’ She smiled again and Libby just knew there was more to this than met the eye.

  ‘Well good for you,’ said Carl and Val waited for the pat on her head.

  ‘Right, Mother, spill. The whole story.’

 

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