Time to Say Goodbye

by S. D. Robertson

  Mum shook her head, her eyes brimming with steely resolve. ‘No. Tell me now. How did my husband die?’

  ‘He died from severe blood loss following a puncture wound to an artery.’

  ‘What? I … don’t understand.’

  The sister cleared her throat again. ‘Um. There’s no nice way to say this. Your husband. He, er, appears to have stabbed himself. In the neck.’

  Eyes wide, Mum gasped, clamping both hands over her mouth. She shook her head.

  ‘I really am terribly sorry, Mrs Curtis.’

  Mum, still shaking her head, looked deathly white all of a sudden, the colour drained from her face. ‘How?’ she asked in a tiny voice.

  ‘He locked himself in the toilet. He’d got his hands on a pair of, um, nail scissors.’ The sister leaned forward, concerned. ‘Mrs Curtis? Can I get you that water? You look—’

  Mum keeled over to one side in a dead faint.

  ‘Lizzie! Where is he?’

  ‘Hello, William. I’m so sorry about your father. How are you holding up?’

  ‘He did it right under my nose, Lizzie, as I was sleeping. Now I can’t even find his spirit. Where is he?’

  ‘I wish I could help, but I really don’t know.’

  ‘Come on, Lizzie. Is that the best excuse you can come up with?’

  ‘It’s the truth.’

  ‘So a guy disappears after dying and you have no idea where he’s gone? I don’t believe it. Picking up souls is what you do. You must know.’

  I was back at the old oak tree where, in much happier times, Alice had revealed she was pregnant. Ella had already gone to school when Mum, who luckily hadn’t been hurt when she fainted, had got hold of Lauren. They’d decided to wait until she got home before breaking the news to her.

  I’d stayed in the house with the two of them for as long as I could bear. I wanted to offer moral support, but the fact was that they had no idea I was there. The atmosphere was awful. Neither of them had a clue what to say to console the other. They were shell-shocked, taking it in turns to make tea that didn’t get drunk and repeatedly questioning how and why this had happened.

  Eventually I gave in to my craving for open space and slipped outside when Mum let the dog into the garden. It was wet and a fierce wind was rattling fence panels and blowing trees around like rag dolls. I must have cut an unusual figure out there in my jeans and T-shirt. I walked on autopilot to the isolated spot: the best place I knew of to get away from people and to think. Then I called Lizzie.

  ‘Don’t make the mistake of thinking I know everything,’ Lizzie said. ‘I don’t. I’m just a cog in the wheel. I’ve not been assigned to deal with your father; I haven’t got a clue where he is.’

  ‘But you knew he was dead before you got here. If you’re so unconnected, how come you were already aware of that?’

  ‘I’m told what I need to know. That was relevant because of its effect on you.’

  ‘Well, doesn’t the same thing apply to Dad’s whereabouts? Not being able to speak to him is definitely having an effect on me.’

  Lizzie huddled into her mac, tightening the belt and flipping up the collar. ‘How about we go somewhere more sheltered?’

  ‘No, thanks. The weather’s irrelevant to me. I wish I did feel cold and wet. I’d prefer that to feeling nothing at all. Besides, if you’re not going to tell me where my father is, then we’ve nothing more to discuss.’

  ‘Look, William, I honestly don’t know.’

  ‘What can you tell me, then? There must be something. Is there a chance that he’s already passed over?’

  ‘That’s possible. But I can’t give you a definite answer because I don’t have one.’

  I stared into her eyes, trying unsuccessfully to gauge whether or not she was telling the truth. ‘Can you at least make some enquiries? Maybe you could find out who is dealing with him and ask them some questions. I have to speak to him, Lizzie. I have to find out why he did what he did. I can’t understand how he could abandon his family like that.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise anything.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No questions about yourself? Don’t forget you’re in the last fortnight now before decision time.’

  I shook my head.

  As soon as she’d gone, I allowed myself to think the terrible thought that had been hiding in my mind from the beginning. What if the reason I couldn’t find Dad was because he’d gone to Hell? Suicide was, after all, considered a mortal sin in some theologies. I swore loudly, wishing I’d thought to ask Lizzie. Surely if that was the case, she’d have said so. Wouldn’t she?

  I thought back to Arthur’s explanation of how death worked. I definitely remembered him saying that only the worst souls went to Hell. Mind you, he’d also said that those souls were snatched immediately. Could that account for Dad’s disappearance? No, surely not. Apart from the suicide, he’d not done anything so awful, had he? He wasn’t a bad person. And yet there was the affair. What had he meant when he’d said it was ‘much worse’ than my betrayal of Alice?

  Stop it, I told myself. You’re being ridiculous. There’s no evidence to suggest that’s the case. It’s pure speculation. This voice of reason stopped me from calling Lizzie back. I decided to seek Arthur’s counsel instead.

  The school was closest by, so I tried there first without any luck. I carried on to the church, but a quick tour of the grounds was also unsuccessful. The front door of the building was shut; without anyone to open it for me, I had no way of checking inside. There did appear to be a light on, though, and with my ear to the door I was semi-convinced that I could hear the faint sound of voices within.

  ‘Arthur?’ I shouted. ‘It’s Will. Are you in there?’

  There was no reply, so I walked over to one of the nearest stained-glass windows to see if I could catch a glimpse of something. But all that did was confirm the fact there was a light on inside. I couldn’t see or hear anything else. Maybe I imagined the voices, I thought. If not, it was most likely the vicar in there with someone, or some cleaners perhaps. The car park was empty, but that didn’t mean much in a small village where everything was within walking distance.

  ‘Arthur!’ I shouted again, figuring it was worth one more try. ‘I need to talk to you. Please.’

  There was a creak as the door swung open behind me.

  I spun around. ‘Arth—’

  ‘You again,’ the tall man said. ‘What do you want?’

  I was dumbstruck. It was the fellow in the black trench coat with the slicked back, white-blond hair. Not a man at all, in fact, but a guide. I’d last seen him leading a spirit into a pure white light at his graveside. And how could I forget the way he’d silenced me?

  He was holding his trilby in his right hand. ‘Who is this elusive Arthur, anyway? I recall you were also looking for him the last time we met.’

  He stared at me, his intense sea-grey eyes demanding a reply.

  ‘I, er. He’s … a friend.’

  He raised one eyebrow. ‘Really. Another spirit?’

  I was in danger of landing Arthur in trouble; I evaded the question with one of my own. ‘Who’s asking?’

  ‘That’s not your concern.’

  ‘Then don’t expect me to answer your questions.’

  ‘You’re wasting my time. I’m in the middle of something and you’re interrupting. Go home.’

  ‘You can’t make me,’ I replied, surprised at my boldness. ‘I’ve as much right to be here as you do.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’

  He raised his right hand, as if ready to unleash some kind of power on me, and I saw I’d pushed him as far as I dared.

  I was out of my depth, with no option other than to back off.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ I said. ‘I’m going.’

  CHAPTER 26

  ‘Tell me again how Mummy died,’ Ella said, her red cheeks glistening with tears.

  I’d finally managed to coax her out of her princess ca
stle. She’d been in the tent ever since learning of Dad’s death. Both Mum and Lauren had tried getting her to talk about how she felt, but she’d asked repeatedly to be left alone and eventually they’d agreed. They’d implied that it was the stroke that had killed Dad, steering clear of any mention of suicide for now.

  When Ella climbed out of the tent and came to sit alongside me on the bed, I’d expected questions about her grandfather’s death, so it threw me when she brought up Alice instead.

  ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘Um, like I told you before, she got very sick when she was giving birth to you. She, er, she died a few hours after you were born.’

  ‘So I killed her.’

  ‘No. Of course not, Ella. You mustn’t say that. It was just terribly bad luck. Tragedies happen sometimes. We all wish they didn’t, but there’s nothing we can do.’

  ‘How exactly did it happen?’

  Reliving Alice’s death was the last thing I wanted to do at that particular moment, yet I couldn’t decline. Ella had a right to know. I’d sketched out the details for her before, but this was the first time she’d asked for specifics.

  ‘She had a thing called a brain haemorrhage. It’s a type of stroke, like Grandad had, only a really bad one. Do you remember how I told you that in Grandad’s case the blood supply to his brain got cut off for a while?’

  Ella nodded.

  ‘Okay. Well, what happened to Mummy was that one of the tubes carrying blood to her brain actually burst.’

  ‘Because she was having me?’

  ‘Having a baby puts a woman’s body through all kinds of strain.’

  I could still picture the look of horror on the midwife’s face as if she was standing right in front of me. It was an image I’d never forget. ‘Call nine nine nine!’ she’d barked. ‘We need to get her to hospital immediately.’

  They’d advised us against Alice having a homebirth for her first baby, in case of complications, but she was determined. She’d always hated hospitals. And so she died in the back of an ambulance weaving through rush-hour traffic, never reaching the doctors who might have been able to save her. The doctors who would have been at her side in minutes had she already been at the hospital.

  ‘So it was my fault,’ Ella said, whisking me back to the present.

  I knelt down in front of her. ‘No, Ella. Not at all. You mustn’t think that. Please, don’t think that. It’s not your fault in any way.’

  I understood self-blame better than anyone and it was the last thing I wanted Ella to have to go through. It had taken me many counselling sessions to move beyond my own belief that I was responsible for Alice’s death. At one point I’d been firmly convinced that if I’d not cheated on her, she’d still be alive. My logic was based on the fact that I would have preferred the safer option of a hospital birth, but I let Alice have her way because I was so racked with guilt about my one-night stand. I should have pushed harder against it, I told myself over and over in those terrible first days and weeks after her death. If I’d put my foot down instead of trying to ease my conscience, things could have been so different.

  It took me a long time to accept that life was far greater and infinitely more complex than me and my decisions, good or bad; that I had no way of knowing how my actions might or might not have affected things. Only then did I appreciate how important it was to live in the present with my beautiful daughter, rather than waste away in a past I could do nothing to alter.

  ‘How come Grandad died too, then?’ Ella asked. ‘If I’d told Nana straight away that he was sick, he might never have been stroked.’

  ‘No, Ella. We’ve been through this before. It was me who told you not to say anything until the morning. You weren’t responsible.’

  She started sobbing again. ‘Why does everyone keep dying? You were coming to get me from school when you got killed. So that’s my fault too.’

  ‘No. None of this is your fault. You have to stop thinking like that.’

  I closed my eyes, hunting for the right words; hating not being able to take her into my arms and comfort her. ‘I’m sorry, Ella. I wish I could give you a proper answer, but there isn’t one. It’s totally unfair. No one, never mind a child your age, should have to experience so much loss in such a short time. I wish I could wave a magic wand, like one of the wizards in your story books, and make it all better, but I can’t. I am here for you, though, and I’ll do everything I can to help. The same goes for Nana and Lauren. You know that, don’t you? You’re never alone.’

  Later, once Ella had calmed down, she asked me about her grandad’s spirit. ‘Where is he, Daddy? Will I be able to see him?’

  I sighed. ‘I don’t know where he is, love. I haven’t seen him either. I’m trying to find out.’

  ‘Might he be in Heaven already?’

  ‘That’s possible.’

  ‘What’s it like?’

  ‘Heaven?’

  Ella nodded.

  I let out a wistful sigh. ‘I don’t know for sure, darling. I haven’t been there, but I imagine it as somewhere incredible, full of happiness and warmth. I think it will somehow appear different to each person there, so it can be everyone’s perfect place.’

  ‘Do you think Mummy’s there?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to go there too, so you can be with her again?’

  Her question caught me off guard. I ought to have seen it coming, but I didn’t. Perhaps now was the time to have the big discussion with her. I considered it for an instant, but I couldn’t forget Lizzie’s warning not to burden Ella with my impossible decision. Besides, how could now be a good time? She’d just lost her grandad. What could be crueller than talking about the possibility of losing me again as well?

  ‘Um, I’ve not really thought about it,’ I lied. ‘Sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.’

  I pulled a silly face, managing to coax a hint of a smile out of her, before asking how she was feeling about her grandad’s death.

  She looked down at her bare feet and rubbed them along the carpet. ‘Sad. I thought he was getting better.’

  ‘I know. We all did.’

  ‘Um, Daddy … I’m a bit worried about Nana now.’

  ‘What do you mean, love?’

  ‘What if she dies too?’

  It was heart-breaking to hear my six-year-old daughter ask that question. It was no surprise she thought like that, after all the death she’d experienced, but it wasn’t right. At her age, she shouldn’t have to think about anything more pressing than which doll to play with or what TV programme to watch. It reminded me again of Lizzie’s warning, pushing me further towards her way of thinking. The last thing my daughter needed right now was to be concerned about my future.

  ‘Your nana’s as fit as a fiddle,’ I said. ‘She’s going nowhere.’

  I immediately regretted my choice of words, as I remembered an evening not so long ago when Dad had claimed to be ‘as fit as a fiddle’ to Mum. ‘You know you’ve got your Auntie Lauren as well,’ I added. ‘And your Uncle Xander. All three of them love you so much.’

  ‘I guess,’ Ella replied, reaching across the bed for Kitten and squeezing the toy animal tight against her chest.

  I thought back to the days when I could hug Ella like that; a sudden swell of emotion caught me unawares.

  ‘What’s wrong, Daddy?’ Ella asked as I gulped down the pain and uncertainty.

  ‘Nothing, darling,’ I replied, forcing a smile. ‘I’m fine.’

  CHAPTER 27

  TWELVE DAYS LEFT

  I had a bad feeling as soon as I heard the doorbell. I’m not sure why, as there had been plenty of recent visitors calling to pass on their condolences. This time felt different. And as soon as Lauren swung open the door to see who was there, I knew my gut had been right.

  Standing in the cold, his breath smoking out before him, was a man I’d last seen from behind the cover of the neighbours’ large conifer. Carefully sculpted hair. Business
attire. And yes – a glance over his shoulder confirmed it – that black Audi parked in the street. If I’d still been in possession of a heart, it would have been pounding like a double bass drum. What the hell was about to happen?

  ‘Hello,’ he said with the brief flicker of a pinched smile. ‘You must be Lauren.’

  My sister frowned. ‘And you are?’

  He extended his right arm through the doorway, spiky fingers emerging from a smart cuff. ‘Devlin. Charles Devlin.’

  Lauren stared at his hand like something not to be trusted, before granting him the briefest of shakes. ‘Have we met before?’

  ‘No. You usually live abroad, I believe. Holland, isn’t it?’

  She squinted at him, shivering as the cold outside air crept in through the open door. ‘You seem to know a lot more about me than I do about you, Mr Devlin.’

  He offered that pinched smile again, sustaining it for longer this time. ‘I’m a good friend of your father’s.’

  His words hammered a crack into Lauren’s icy exterior. ‘Oh, I see,’ she said. ‘Sorry. I didn’t realize.’

  ‘Such awful news,’ he added with what looked like genuine emotion. ‘I can’t believe he’s really gone.’

  ‘You’d better come in.’

  I’d been standing at Lauren’s shoulder the whole time and this man – Devlin – had given no indication whatsoever that he could see me. Perhaps he is human after all, I thought. Just to be sure, I shouted as loudly as I could into his ear while Lauren took his coat. He didn’t flinch.

  ‘Who on earth are you, then?’ I said. ‘Dad never mentioned you. You can’t have been that close.’

  ‘Mum, there’s a friend of Dad’s here,’ Lauren said, leading Devlin through to the lounge.

  My mother, red-eyed from a recent crying session, looked up from the newspaper she was reading on the couch. She’d been stuck on the same page for the past twenty minutes. ‘Oh, hello,’ she said, flashing a look of confusion at Lauren as she stood to greet the visitor. ‘Sorry. I don’t think we’ve met.’