The Day Henry Died: A supernatural romance

by Lynda Renham

  A tragedy everyone said. Life was cruel.

  The day I’ve been dreading has arrived. I look at the dress and scarf that hangs outside the wardrobe next to Henry’s suit. I should put it away, but I can’t. Once I put the suit in the wardrobe Henry will be truly gone and I can’t face that. Not yet.

  Jim keeps phoning.

  ‘I just need to see you. Please meet me,’ he asks.

  I should have been more insistent that night. I should have said ‘I don’t want you to go out, Henry.’

  I walk out of the front door and into the rain. It’s torrential. I hope it stops before Henry’s funeral. If I walked through a waterfall, I couldn’t get any wetter. I listen to the drumming of the rain on my umbrella, each drop a beat upon the fabric. It’s calming in a funny way. I’ve been anxious about today. I wanted everything right for Henry. His parents insisted it was a church service. Henry always said he didn’t care what happened after he was dead.

  ‘Chuck me in the garden,’ he would joke.

  Jim is waiting outside Pansies. He is frowning but his face brightens on seeing me. He most likely thought I wouldn’t turn up. He pulls me into a hug and for a moment I fear I might take his eye out with the umbrella.

  ‘I didn’t want to come to the house,’ he says.

  ‘I don’t want to go into Pansies,’ I say firmly.

  I can’t face that. Henry and I sometimes had Saturday lunch there after shopping.

  ‘Costa then?’ Jim suggests.

  I nod and he leads me back along the way I’d just come.

  ‘I want to support you Imogen, that’s all. It’s a terrible tragedy and I want you to know you’re not alone. If there is anything I can do to help today, you just have to ask.’

  ‘I know.’

  But I feel alone.

  ‘I know it’s over but …’

  ‘Jim, it never really started.’

  ‘It’s just. I can’t bear to think of you in pain. I want to be your friend, now more than anything and Henry, well, it was …’

  He breaks off.

  ‘So tragic.’

  ‘He wasn’t having an affair with that woman,’ I say. It seems important.

  ‘I know,’ he says.

  ‘He knew,’ I say. ‘About us and was so upset …’ the lump in my throat stops me. I mustn’t cry. There’d be plenty of tears later. I couldn’t bear another headache. I want to give Henry a good funeral. I’d chosen a wicker coffin. Henry would have hated having too much money spent on a box.

  ‘Nothing happened, you told him that?’

  I nod.

  I’d been desperate for attention that was all. I’d needed to be needed.

  ‘We were going to start again, try for a baby,’ I say, and the emotion catches in my throat. So much love to give. Now what do I do with it?

  ‘The funeral is two thirty if you wanted to come,’ I say, pulling myself together.

  It was only going to be a small affair. Henry never liked crowds. Henry would have preferred it that way. Besides, who was there to ask? I wanted to fill a few rows at least. If only we’d made more friends. How stupid, I chide myself. Henry wouldn’t care how many people were at his funeral.

  ‘I’ll come,’ says Jim gratefully.

  He hesitates and then says.

  ‘Maybe we could meet for coffee sometimes, just as friends of course.’

  ‘Yes, maybe,’ I say.

  Oh, Henry, why did you leave me? Why did you leave me when we had finally heard each other?

  ‘The sun is going to come out later,’ says Jim.

  I smile. Henry’s father always said the sun shone on the righteous. Henry was indeed very righteous.