by Phil Redmond
‘To blame? Or to kill?’ Luke asked. It was matter-of-fact.
‘If I knew who it was,’ Joey replied, equally matter-of-fact.
Luke gave a quick nod of acknowledgement then again lapsed into silence. He had been through it all on the way home. Trying to digest what Joey had told him on the satphone. Right after the Snatch Land Rover had hit an IED. Luke had just called in for a helicopter extraction when the phone rang again. It was Joey being patched through by some desk jockey who thought he needed to know straight away. Brilliant, Luke had thought, I’m fighting for my own bloody life here and some clown patches through my brother-in-law to tell me my wife’s been killed. Talk about the priorities of war. If he ever found out who that jockey was he’d probably kill him too.
‘You really OK?’ Joey asked, noticing Luke start to slide down the seat.
‘As much as I can be. But we’re supposed to bottle it up, aren’t we? Cry in to our pillows when we’re alone? Man up?’
It was the same cocktail of rage, guilt and impotence. But he didn’t have any answers for his best friend. He couldn’t do what Natasha did and smooth the way. All he could do was grit his teeth and nod agreement.
‘Yeah,’ Luke carried on. ‘Nothing to bloody say, is there? I’m as OK as I can be I suppose is the best I can give you. So,’ he shrugged. ‘Give me a nudge when we get there.’ He folded his arms, closed his eyes and started to drift, for a moment. Then turned to Joey. ‘And hey. Thanks.’
‘What for?’
‘Sorting … You know, everything.’
Joey just nodded. He had handed most of the bureaucracy and funeral arrangements to Sean. What else were big brothers for? He was about to say that to Luke but saw he was already in a deep sleep. Joey was initially surprised, but by the time he was through the Conway tunnels he had come to the conclusion that there was nothing else for Luke to do. Except get home, get the funeral over and – Joey glanced over at the bloodstain – get back to whatever he had come from.
• 22.30 p.m. – Sean Nolan’s Kitchen, Highbridge
‘About midnight I think,’ Sean said, in answer to a query over his phone. He was speaking to the undertaker. ‘Joey said his plane was due at nine. So, give or take a few hours. Right. No, I don’t think he’ll worry about the vigil. Yes, that’s great, Alan. We’re all very grateful. Yes, see you tomorrow. Thanks again.’
He finished the call and turned to Sandra. ‘He’s going to wait until they get there.’
‘He the same guy you used when Natasha’s dad died?’ she asked, as she raised the kettle to ask if he wanted a cup of tea.
‘Yeah,’ Sean replied as he nodded about the tea. ‘Well, his dad. Alan’s only just taken over the business. Not a bad one to be in, though. Never any shortage of customers in that one.’
Sandra shuddered. ‘Not for me. I think we’ll stick to selling life.’
‘Plants die too, you know.’
‘But we don’t have to bury them. Our customers do that for us,’ she replied as she stood next to him to look at the spreadsheet. ‘How’s this looking?’
‘Flowers, organist, undertakers, church fee, all ticked. Emailed the reading to Joey. Got my eulogy to finish off, but …’ He picked up a notebook and looked at his page of notes. ‘It’s all … It’s all …’
Sandra stroked his hair. ‘Overwhelming? You should have let Joey do some of––’
But he put his arm out to cuddle her waist. ‘Not that. Grist to the organiser’s mill.’ He tapped the spreadsheet. ‘No… It’s …’ He tapped his eulogy notes. ‘It’s all so … so facile, isn’t it? How do you sum up someone’s life in a few words?’
She pulled his head across to rest on her breasts. ‘You can’t. But it’s not what you say. It’s about giving people a chance to remember her. As she was.’
He nodded, comforted by her words, and leaned against her breasts for a moment. ‘You’re the best counsellor I know, do you know that?
‘Well I hope you don’t know another one who would let you do this!’
He grinned before tapping a name in the second column of the spreadsheet, while sliding his hand up her skirt to stroke her thigh. ‘Just don’t know what to do with Aunty Catty-lin, as the kids call her.’
‘It may be helping, but that’s a cousin-Billy-like move, that.’
Sean instantly pulled his hand away and looked round to face Sandra. Concerned. He didn’t …?
Sandra grinned. ‘I was never a vulnerable fourteen-year-old.’ She took his hand and guided it back up her leg, while looking across the spreadsheet.
‘A piece of paper would have done, Sean. But,’ she tapped the name, ‘the answer is still the same. That bigoted bitch is not to be anywhere near me. Or Natasha.’
• 23.00 p.m. – M53 Cheshire Oaks
Having missed the turn-offs for Rhyll, St Asaph, Queensferry and Chester, it was only when Joey left the M53 to join the M56 and pointed the car in the direction of Manchester that Luke stirred. ‘Where are we?’
‘Helsby services are coming up soon. Want to stop?’
Luke looked down at his fatigues. ‘Perhaps not. Might spook the locals.’
‘Must be weird?’ Joey asked. ‘Coming straight out of it all. And a few hours later be mixing with the real world?’
Luke gave a sardonic grin. ‘Depends on what you think is the real world, Joe. Back there – someone gets killed you can understand it. Know what it’s about. But, here…’ He stopped, then turned his grin into a smile. Of appreciation for his friend. ‘It’s OK. I’m not going off again.’
Joey glanced across. Luke seemed a lot more together. ‘That all it took? An hour’s kip?’
Luke nodded. ‘Get it while you can, Joseph.’
Joey took another glance. Luke now seemed composed, and him using Joe’s formal Christian name was a good sign. It was what they always did when relaxed and fooling about together. But he wondered if he was just in denial. And how long that would last. Straight out of battle. Had he had time to let it sink in? He knew his old friend. He had been fooling around with him since the Infants.
Luke also knew his old friend. He could read Joey’s anxiety. ‘It’s OK, Joe. Really. Done the thinking on the way. It’s in the shit happens box.’
‘That it? Shit happens?’ Joey asked, verging on irritation at what seemed like a flippant response from Luke.
Luke paused for a moment, before turning to look directly at Joey. ‘And what happens if we don’t put it in that box, Joe? Christ, you, we, don’t even know what happened to Janey yet. So for your sake. Your mum and dad’s sake. Janey’s parents too, remember. And my sake. Let’s just get the funeral done and then wait and find out what we’re really dealing with. Then deal with it.’
Once again it was more of an order than a comment or request.
‘Should that have had a “Are we clear?” on the end of it?’ Joey asked, not hiding his now obvious irritation.
After a moment Luke nodded. To accept the rebuke. Joey nodded back. To acknowledge the acceptance. And knew it was time to move the conversation on. Something he had learned from Natasha.
‘How’d you get here, anyway? And why RAF Valley? Or does that come under the “don’t ask, don’t tell” rules?’
After a moment Luke accepted that Joey was trying to be the supportive friend. ‘That’s for the gays,’ he replied. Then found a grin. ‘I come under the “don’t ask, just shoot” rules. But in your case, Joseph …’
Joey now found a smile in return. At the use of the Christian name again.
‘They gave me a 72 hour to get here and back, but I would have lost six of those waiting for the transport, so I jumped a Yank Blackhawk back to their base at Dwyer.’
In answer to Joey’s puzzled look, Luke added, ‘It’s in Helmand, then one of their transports to Saudi, switched in Germany and on to Valley. Going back through Brize Norton tomorrow.’
‘Are you, well, allowed to just bum rides here and there?’
‘No.’ Luke responde
d with another grin. ‘But the training’s all about improvising. And I was a bit lucky the unit were going through there tonight.’
Joey looked again, waiting for another explanation. But none came.
‘That the bit your mates back there said I didn’t need to know?’
Luke just nodded. ‘Lurking round a military base on high alert is not to be recommended. How’d you end up doing that anyway?’
‘Satnav,’ Joey responded, sheepishly. ‘Took me to something called RAF Valley football ground. Then some local smartarse enjoyed himself playing bait the tourist. Told me to go and wait at some side entrance because, “it’s used as a short cut”. Like a dick, I fell for the local knowledge nudge and wink.’
‘As you would back home?’
‘What? Fall for it? Or pull it?’
‘I know you wouldn’t be caught at home … Can we go straight to the funeral place?’
The sudden shift in focus might have caught someone else, but Joey had been waiting for it. And nodded. ‘Said they’d wait around after the Prayer Vigil. Although … You sure that’s a good idea?’
‘No. But neither was being away too often and leaving your wife at home to get herself killed.’
‘That’s daft. But, I get it, but …’ Joey sighed. ‘They say she’s … a bit of a mess.’
‘Joe. Look at the state of me. A short while ago I was scraping me mate off what was left of a Snatch Land Rover. I think I’ll cope.’
Joey bit his lip. He guessed his friend, the husband, would. Even if he, the brother, couldn’t.
• 23.00 p.m. – Sean Nolan’s Bedroom, Highbridge
‘OK. Car one. Mum, Dad, you, me, Megan and Noah,’ Sean announced as he entered the bedroom where Sandra was just getting into bed.
She had her Victorian cotton nightdress on. The symbol of sleep, not sex, although she had made a concession to Sean and left the top two buttons undone.
‘Car two,’ Sean continued as he sat on the bed next to her. ‘Luke, Joey, Natasha, Tanya, Alex, Ross and Lucy. On Joey’s knee.’
‘Don’t you think Luke should go in the first car?’ Sandra asked as she started to apply her liquid body armour which was what Sean called her Clinique anti-wrinkle cream. Once she started massaging her face there was no chance of anything else. ‘We could go in the second?’
‘True,’ Sean conceded. ‘I was probably thinking, parents first. Instead of husband. Yes. Mum and Dad won’t mind. Especially as Mum’s in such a state that she hardly knows where she is at the moment.’
‘And something else we’ll have to cope with later,’ Sandra commented, more thinking out loud than needing a response.
‘True,’ Sean agreed with a heavy sigh, before carrying on. ‘Then number three. Your mum and dad. Nat’s mum.’ He braced himself before adding, quickly, ‘Aunty Catty and cousin––’
It didn’t work. The massaging stopped. ‘She is not. No way.’
‘You said to keep her away from you and Natasha.’
‘Yes. Because she keeps winding Nat’s mother up with all that “Natasha marrying beneath herself” rubbish.’ Sandra rolled her eyes in parody, before almost spitting out the next sentence. ‘And she called me “that slag from the office”, if you remember.’
‘I remember the nights in the office,’ Sean tried, rubbing her legs beneath the duvet and attempting to find a grease-free zone on her neck to nuzzle. It didn’t work. She turned away so he got his lips protected from ageing.
‘How do you think Mum and Dad feel about her? She’s a poisonous witch.’
‘We’ve only got three cars.’
‘Well she can go with cousin Billy. Nowhere.’
• 00.00 midnight – Undertaker’s, Highbridge
It was nearly midnight when Joey pulled into the darkened yard that Rawlings Undertakers shared with the bank. Both merchants in death, many had said after the foreclosures that followed the 2008 crash. As soon as he and Luke stepped out of the car, the rear door opened and they were greeted by Alan Rawlings, who shone a touch to guide them across the yard.
‘I could rig up a couple of lights for you, you know, Alan,’ Joey grinned as he held out his hand.
Alan took Joey’s hand, but turned his torch up to a couple of security lights on the wall. ‘Have to turn them off after eleven o’clock. Neighbours get upset if they see us carrying our clients in and out.’
‘Wouldn’t last long in my game, then,’ Luke grunted. as he took Alan’s offered hand.
‘Sorry about your loss, Luke,’ Alan replied. Professionally – with a quick glance to Joey when he caught sight of Luke’s bloodstained jacket. Then stood to one side and gestured for them to go inside.
While Alan guided Luke through to the small chapel of rest, as it was euphemistically called, Joey hung back and took out his phone to text Natasha. At Rawlings. Not long LXXJ. But as he pressed send his attention was caught by a raised voice. Unmistakably Luke.
By the time Joey found his way through the coffin storage and embalming area to the chapel, Luke was pushing Alan back against the wall behind Janey’s still sealed coffin.
‘I’ll do it myself, if you won’t.’
‘What’s going on?’ Joey asked, immediately putting himself between Alan and Luke.
‘I want to see her, Joe.’
Joey looked at Alan. Who shook his head. He felt the pressure of Luke pushing against him and at once knew, from the firmness of Luke’s body, that no amount of physical activity as an electrician could compete with this combat-hardened veteran. Still, he had to try. So he shoved. And to his relief, Luke allowed himself to be moved back.
‘I think you’d better open it, Alan.’
‘But … But she’s … We did our best, Luke, but … She was …’
‘Do it,’ Luke growled. It was a final warning.
Joey nodded to the still reluctant Alan, who once again took in the bloodstains on Luke’s combat uniform and, like Joey, appreciated there was only going to be one winner in this stand-off. He gave a brief nod and went to get a screwdriver.
‘Thanks, Alan,’ Joey called after him, then turned to Luke. ‘You sure you want to see her?’
‘Didn’t come all this way to look at a box, Joe.’
‘Yeah, but, it’s more than that, isn’t it? And don’t you want to remember what she … Well, what she was really like.’
‘I’ll never forget that, Joe,’ Luke said, and for the first time since they had been together Joey saw the mist and emotion in Luke’s eyes. ‘She’ll always be in here,’ Luke added, pointing to his heart. Then to his head. ‘And here.’
‘Then … why do you want to see her now?’ Joey asked.
‘Because …’ Luke began. ‘I want to know how much someone is going to have to pay.’
• 00.30 a.m. – Sean Nolan’s Kitchen, Highbridge
Sandra came down the stairs and headed for the kitchen to find Sean. He was leaning against the sink talking into his mobile. She threw him a look. Then one at the clock. What? Who?
Sean held up his hand and mouthed nearly finished. She went across to the table and looked at the spreadsheet. Written on it, inside a heavily marked box, was: Car Four. She turned back to Sean, who was just finishing the call.
‘And?’ She pointed to the box on the spreadsheet.
‘Organised another one for all the family retards, as the kids might say. Good bloke, Alan. Considering his dad sometimes used to give him a lift to school in the hearse.’ He shook his head slightly before changing tack. ‘Should we have gone to the Prayer Vigil?’
Sandra shook her head slowly. ‘No. I just want to remember her the way I last saw her.’
Sean smiled and pointed at the spreadsheet. ‘Taking the mickey out of me because I need one of those for everything.’
Sandra brought her hands up to cradle his face. ‘We all do. But c’mon. Come to bed. You can’t do any more. With or without your spreadsheet.’
She dragged him across the kitchen and shoved him out of the door,
with a glance back at the table. The poisonous witch would be there after all, and while she knew it was now too late to throw out any more objections, it didn’t mean she had to be civil to her.
• 00.30 a.m, – Nolan’s Utility Room, Highbridge
Joey came into the utility room with Luke’s clothes.
‘How is he now?’
‘A lot calmer. Especially as he’s scrubbing off the desert sand and …’ Joey replied as he pointed to the stains on Luke’s jacket.
Natasha wrinkled her nose. ‘Is that …?’
Joey nodded. ‘But he’s not sure from which side.’
She gave a slight shudder as she took the clothes and shoved them in the washing machine. Then turned back. ‘And yours.’
‘What? They don’t need washing.’
‘But I don’t want you wearing them,’ she replied as she pulled off his sweatshirt, then started undoing the belt on his jeans.
At any other time Joey would have matched her item for item but he was surprised by the passion and intensity in her kiss as she pushed him back against the door.
When she finally broke for air, she pulled back to look him straight in the eye. ‘God, Joe, I couldn’t bear to be going through what Luke must be going through right now.’
He pulled her close. Tight. Burying his head in her hair. The familiar smell of her Toni & Guy volumising shampoo. And she felt his body change. Sag. Then start to shake slightly as she realised he was sobbing. She just pulled him even tighter, resting on his chest and let him cry it out.
Part Two: The Day of the Funeral
• 07.30 a.m. – Sean Nolan’s Garden Centre, Highbridge
The following morning, the day of the funeral, us usual Sean was the first to unlock the yard at the back of the garden centre. But he was not surprised to find Glynnis, the café manager, hard on his heels.
‘How long will you be here?’
‘Just enough to pick up the pots and shrubs for the church.’
