Never Can Say Goodbye

by Christina Jones

  ‘The motorway?’

  ‘The Mercedes.’

  ‘You mean you’re not up for a challenge?’

  ‘Oh.’ She smiled at him. ‘I’m always up for a challenge.’

  ‘Good,’ he laughed. ‘So when we stop at the services halfway up for something to eat, you can have a little test run round the car park, then you can drive us the rest of the way to Blackpool.’

  ‘Which means, if we survive, I’ll get the lovely tricky bit of trying to find the right house once we get there?’

  ‘The satnav will take care of that. We’ve got a full address and postcode.’

  ‘I wonder what they’ll be like? Thelma and Louise?’

  ‘Awful,’ Dexter sighed. ‘We know they’ll be a pair of dragons. But it doesn’t matter. At least they’ve agreed to see us and sign the papers. We don’t have to become good friends or anything with them, do we?’

  Frankie leaned her head back against the soft leather and closed her eyes. No they didn’t. It was all going to be OK.

  Several hours later, hours when Frankie had been bursting with pride at driving the Mercedes confidently along the latter stages of the motorway in the teeming rain, they were following the satnav’s strident instructions and crawling round the back streets of Blackpool, heading for Thelma and Louise’s house.

  ‘It’s very disappointing.’ Frankie frowned. ‘I thought Blackpool would be all sun and colour and noise and crowds and kiss-me-quick hats. I didn’t expect it to be wall-to-wall grey.’

  The sea and the sky just seemed to blend into a mass of gun-metal, the streets were wet, deserted and windswept and all the attractions were closed.

  ‘It’s January,’ Dexter said reasonably. ‘It’s pouring with rain and freezing cold. And it’s as far out of season as you can get. We’ll come back later in the year for the illuminations and ride on all the white-knuckle machines on the Pleasure Beach and eat fish and chips from the paper.’

  Frankie laughed. ‘Sounds perfect. If we’re still friends by then, of course.’

  ‘And why wouldn’t we be?’

  Frankie shrugged. ‘I never assume anything any more. Never plan too far ahead. That way I don’t get too disappointed.’

  ‘Oh, I’m definitely planning on coming back here in the autumn to do the full touristy bit.’

  ‘With me?’

  Dexter sighed. ‘Yes, Frankie with you. Well, that is if you still want me, after—’

  ‘After what?’ The light-heartedness of the ping-pong banter had suddenly been snuffed out. ‘After what?’

  ‘You’ve now reached your destination,’ the satnav squawked. Frankie pulled the Mercedes into the kerb outside a row of neat terraced houses.

  She looked across the car at him. ‘You can’t just leave it there. After what?’

  Dexter undid his seat belt. ‘Something I should have told you a long time ago. And something we can perhaps sort out when we’ve got Thelma and Louise to sign the papers. It’ll keep. Right now, Ernie’s the most important thing on the agenda, isn’t he?’

  As Dexter locked the Mercedes, Frankie shivered in the freezing wind blowing straight from the sea along the narrow street. But it wasn’t just the bitter wind and the spattering rain that chilled her. Inside, her bubbling happiness had died.

  ‘Ready?’ Dexter smiled gently at her as they stood outside the green front door, patchily faded by the constant onslaught of sun and salt-filled wind. ‘For the last stage?’

  Frankie nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak. She knew her voice would wobble and then he’d know just how important he was to her.

  Dexter rang the bell.

  The door was opened almost immediately. Thelma and Louise must have been waiting for them, Frankie thought list-lessly, hiding behind the net curtains, peering out.

  Oh, get a grip, she told herself crossly. Forget Dexter and his secrets. We’re here for Ernie.

  ‘Yes?’ A thin-faced woman with narrow lips and a pointed nose, looked at them distastefully.

  ‘Mrs Butterly? Thelma Butterly?’ Dexter asked. ‘No, she’s my sister. I’m Louise Reeves. My sister Thelma’s inside. You’re the ones who’ve come about Uncle Ern, are you?’

  ‘We are,’ Frankie said. Her voice was croaky. She cleared her throat. ‘And we’ve got the papers. We won’t take up much of your time.’

  ‘You’d better not,’ Louise said ungraciously. ‘Come on in, then.’

  Dexter stood back to let Frankie step inside the narrow hall first. It was spotlessly clean but very cluttered with furniture and ornaments.

  Louise led them into an equally clean but crammed and cluttered living room. An almost identical thin and ferret-faced woman looked up from the leather sofa.

  ‘You the people from down south about burying Ernie?’

  ‘We are,’ Frankie said again. ‘It’s very nice to meet you, Thelma, um, Mrs Butterly.’

  ‘Ah.’

  As they weren’t invited to sit down, they didn’t. Frankie felt increasingly claustrophobic in the overstuffed room.

  ‘Give us the papers then,’ Louise said. ‘No point in hanging around. Although why you want to be bothering yourself with Uncle Ern’s remains I’ve no idea.’

  And we have no intention of telling you, Frankie thought angrily.

  Dexter smiled as he handed over the sheaf of papers and Slo’s letters. ‘It’s something we do. We work for the undertakers, you see. In a sort of freelance capacity. We, um, deal with unburied ashes. When the chapel of rest starts to run out of shelf space for the caskets, we … er … we trace the nearest and dearest and take over the interment of the remaining ashes.’

  Frankie stared at him. What a brilliant liar he was! Which, she thought ruefully, was probably just as well, as she hadn’t given any thought at all to what they’d tell Thelma and Louise about why they wanted Ernie to rest in peace.

  ‘Like a charity?’ Louise gave the papers a cursory glance.

  ‘Yes, er, sort of,’ Dexter said quickly.

  ‘Must be mad.’ Thelma shook her thin head. Even her hair was thin, Frankie thought. ‘Dead’s dead. Who cares what happens after? And Uncle Ern left nothing worth having. Couldn’t even raise a few bob on most of it. We kept the few bits that might be useful, and dumped the rest of his rubbish.’

  Including Achsah’s wedding dress, Frankie thought angrily.

  ‘That’s not our concern,’ Dexter said smoothly, taking out his pen. ‘All we want you to do, as next of kin, is sign the paperwork to say you give us, and Motions, the funeral directors, the authority to take charge of the ashes and give your, um, Uncle Ernie a decent burial.’

  ‘Be glad to,’ Louise said, snatching the pen.

  Phew. Frankie exhaled. It was going to be OK.

  ‘How much?’ Thelma looked at them. ‘Before I put pen to paper. How much?’

  ‘Oh, it won’t cost you anything at all,’ Frankie said, trying hard to smile. ‘We’re taking care of all the funeral expenses for Ernie, er, your uncle.’

  ‘I should bloody hope you are,’ Louise snapped. ‘We ain’t parting with another penny for this pointless funeral. We were out of pocket the first time.’

  ‘No, no,’ Dexter said hurriedly. ‘Frankie’s right. It’s all taken care of.’

  ‘You might be do-gooders –’ Thelma squinted at him ‘– but you can’t be that simple? We ain’t paying you. You’re paying us.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Louise nodded. ‘You want our signatures on this paperwork to say you take care of Uncle Ernie’s ashes, then you pay for them, OK?’

  Oh shit … Frankie closed her eyes.

  ‘Er, well, it’s not normal … ’ Dexter looked frantically at Frankie.

  ‘I don’t care what’s normal. You don’t get nothing for nothing in this world,’ Thelma said icily. ‘You want us to sign, then you pay us.’

  ‘OK.’ Frankie pulled a face, trying to remember how much she had in her purse. She couldn’t let Ernie down now. ‘We’ll give you twenty pounds.’<
br />
  Thelma and Louise laughed. A lot.

  ‘Forty,’ Dexter said.

  They carried on laughing.

  ‘Well, how much do you want?’ Frankie glared at them. ‘Bearing in mind that we’re a charity.’

  ‘Soft in the head is what you are,’ Louise snapped.

  ‘Bothering yourself with other people’s dead relations. We want a hundred.’

  ‘Each,’ Thelma added, her eyes glittering greedily.

  Oh God … Frankie shook her head. She had no idea if Dexter had any cash at all on him. She thought she might have about sixty pounds and some loose change.

  ‘Frankie?’ Dexter looked worriedly at her.

  ‘Sixty-ish.’

  ‘OK.’ He glared at Thelma and Louise. ‘You sign and you’ll get your two hundred.’

  ‘Let’s see the money then.’

  Between them, Dexter and Frankie emptied their purse and wallet and pockets onto the coffee table. Louise fell on it and counted it with all the alacrity of Shylock.

  ‘Yep.’ She nodded at Thelma. ‘It’s all here. Sign away, Thel.’

  The odious Thelma signed in all three places, followed by the equally odious Louise.

  ‘Thank you.’ Dexter snatched the papers away from them. ‘And goodbye.’

  Thelma and Louise, still greedily sorting out the various notes and coins, didn’t even answer.

  Dexter slammed the front door so hard behind them that flakes of green paint floated from it.

  ‘Oh my God.’ Frankie, her hair blowing wildly across her face, leaned against the Mercedes, gulping in the cold, wet air. ‘Oh, my God.’

  Dexter, shaking with anger, slid his arms around her and held her close. ‘Bitches,’ he muttered. ‘Complete miserly avaricious scumbag bitches!’

  ‘I can’t believe people can be that awful,’ Frankie mumbled into the shoulder of his soft leather jacket.

  ‘I can,’ Dexter said gruffly. ‘Anyway, we’ve got what we wanted. At least Ernie can have his funeral now, can’t he?’

  Frankie nodded. ‘Yes. And that’s all that matters, really. Let’s get out of here. As far away as possible. And can you drive home, please? I feel all shaky.’

  ‘No problem.’ He held her at arm’s length and smoothed her hair away from her face. ‘And anyway, we’re not going straight home.’

  ‘Aren’t we?’ Frankie knew they really didn’t have any money left to do much else.

  ‘No, we’re not. I’m going to do something I should have done a long time ago. I’m going to tell you my equivalent of your Joseph story, and then I’m going to show you why I had to leave Oxford.’

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Dexter had driven carefully back down the M6, windscreen wipers on full blast, in a flurry of non-stop spray from the other cars and lorries on the wet road. The sky was dark and threatening and the rain poured in a non-stop torrent, washing away the last vestiges of the snow.

  Frankie shivered despite the car’s very effective heater. ‘What an awful day.’

  ‘On all counts, yes.’ Dexter nodded.

  They’d talked a lot about Thelma and Louise, they hadn’t said anything, yet, about his impending revelations.

  Frankie stretched, knowing she had to know, even if it broke her heart, which it probably would. ‘OK, then. Tell me. About Oxford.’

  Dexter glanced across the car. ‘Mmm, I was just wondering where to start.’

  ‘The beginning’s usually good.’

  ‘I don’t think there was a beginning, not really – Oh, yes there was.’ He slowed down and tucked the Mercedes in behind a large lorry in the left-hand lane. ‘My brother, Simon – he’s three years older than me – and I started our own business in Oxford as soon as I left school. I think that’s where it really starts. We were both mad about cars, you see, big, luxury cars.’

  ‘Like this one?’

  Dexter nodded. ‘We leased one to start with, a classic Jaguar, and we had the idea that we’d offer a sort of luxury taxi service, or chauffeur people to swish events, that sort of thing. Anyway, it took off slowly at first, the way new businesses do. But gradually it started to do really well. We managed to buy our next two cars and register the business. We called it Dream Drives.’

  Frankie nodded. ‘Sounds good.’

  ‘Maybe a bit naff now, but we were pleased with it at the time. Anyway, Simon was always keen to make as much money as possible in the shortest amount of time, but I thought we could be doing it differently – oh, still sticking to our original principles of top-of-the-range taxi-driving, which is what it was really, but also maybe using the cars to take people who’d never known much luxury or happiness, out for the day. At very cheap rates. Very cheap indeed. I could see it as a sort of loss leader that gave happiness to people at the same time.’

  ‘Nice idea. But Simon didn’t agree with it?’

  ‘Simon thought I was mad.’ Deter laughed. ‘But he went along with it because we were raking in the cash on the posh company rides, and he was happy by then to diversify into anything that paid anything at all. And it got us loads of good publicity for the company, and even more business as a result. So, I did all of the cheap drives and Simon stuck to the luxury executive corporate end of the market. We bought two more cars and employed two more drivers.’

  ‘Quite the entrepreneurs.’

  ‘We were.’ Dexter nodded. ‘And the two sides of the business worked really well for several years. We were the first firm the corporates came to for days out – race meetings, Premiership football matches, all the prawn sandwich brigade stuff. We had a great reputation. And by running the other side too, well, I felt that we weren’t just cosying up to the people who could afford it, but we were also giving happiness to those who couldn’t. It was great to see their faces – especially the kids – when I turned up on some really run-down housing estate in my chauffeur’s uniform and whisked them off to the cinema or bowling or just into town. It gave them something special in their lives, which weren’t very special at all. I loved it.’

  Frankie stared ahead at the pelting rain and the lorry’s blurred taillights as they joined the M42. ‘Yes, I can understand that. So?’

  ‘So,’ Dexter said, ‘after a couple more years, still looking to expand the business, Simon bought a pink stretch-limo to hire out for hen parties, and girly days and nights out, and then he employed Cindy to drive it.’

  He was silent then, concentrating on the road ahead.

  Pennies dropping like coins in an amusement arcade, Frankie glanced across at him. ‘And Cindy is – was – your Joseph equivalent?’

  ‘More or less, yes.’

  ‘The one you said you shouldn’t have fallen in love with?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Frankie swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘OK, so you and Simon were now running a really successful chauffeuring service on three levels, and … ?’

  ‘I was madly in love with Cindy. I’d had plenty of girlfriends before, but no one like Cindy. I’d never been head over heels in love before. Like you with Joseph, I was simply blown away by her.’

  Frankie decided there and then that she hated Cindy more than she ever hated anyone. Even more than Thelma and Louise. And definitely more than Biddy or stupid Maisie Fairbrother.

  ‘So, it was the love story of the year, was it?’

  ‘Sadly not. Cindy liked me, and was my friend, but Cindy didn’t love me. Didn’t even fancy me. Cindy was in love with Simon.’

  ‘Right.’ Was Cindy mad? ‘And Simon?’

  ‘Was flattered, and fancied her, and, because he was wildly competitive and knew that I loved her, he married her.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ Frankie stared at him. ‘And what did you do?’

  ‘I was best man at their wedding.’ Dexter gave a short laugh. ‘And we all carried on working together and expanding the business, and I dated more women than there were days in the year.’

  Frankie frowned at the non-stop rain sheeting from the unrelenting sky. ‘So
, that’s where you got the bad boy reputation from?’

  ‘It was well deserved.’ Dexter looked at her briefly. ‘I loved and left everyone. I behaved like a complete bastard as far as women were concerned. You went one way – after Joseph you didn’t date anyone – I went the other. I had to show them, Simon and Cindy, that I didn’t care.’

  Frankie sighed. ‘When really you cared like hell? Oh, why is life so complicated? So, that’s why you had to leave Oxford is it? Because you still loved Cindy, who was your sister-in-law, and simply couldn’t bear to see her and Simon together?’

  ‘I wish it had been that simple.’ Dexter slowed the Mercedes down and indicated to leave the motorway.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Frankie frowned. ‘Are we taking the scenic route?’

  Dexter nodded. ‘We’ll get back on to the M40 later. We’re not far from Oxford. I just need to do this.’

  ‘OK, fine by me. So, what happened next?’

  ‘Are you sure you really want to know?’

  ‘Absolutely, as long as you want me to know,’ Frankie said firmly, pretty sure she was just about to hear things that would break her heart for ever. And far, far more painfully than Joseph Mason had ever done. ‘After all, you were a star listening to my tale of woe. So, let me guess – you had an affair with Cindy? Your sister-in-law. And Simon found out and –?’

  ‘Again,’ Dexter sighed, ‘I wish it had been that simple. And Cindy would never have had an affair with me, anyway. She treated me like a brother or a best mate. For her, there was no spark at all. She just didn’t feel like that about me.’

  Cindy, Frankie decided, was definitely certifiably insane.

  ‘No, it wasn’t Cindy,’ Dexter continued. ‘It was something else entirely. You see, by this time Dream Drives was a pretty substantial business, and we had a fleet of cars and some really good blokes working for us. It was all going amazingly well. I bought a house. Simon and Cindy bought a mini-mansion and all the other trappings. We all lived really well. Then Cindy and Simon took a week off to go on holiday … ’

  Frankie had no idea where this was leading so she said nothing.