183 Times a Year (42 page)

‘You know so Cazzie. The boy iz crazy about you.'

‘But he's seeing Nicole. I didn't think …'

‘You think every time you lay your head on his shoulder, or you text him or call him when you're feeling down, it means nothing more than friendship to him?'

‘I … I do love Luke but … but …'

‘As a friend?' Useless laughs. I shrug my shoulders.

‘What is it about love anyway? I
should
love Luke, but I love Joe. And I'm not actually that convinced he really loves me. He's always so worried about what his friends think all the time. He won't come to the hospital with me you know? He said he doesn't do hospitals!'

Useless just looks at me and shrugs his shoulders. ‘I don't
know
Cazzie, it's a crazy world huh?'

‘It certainly is Useless. You do know I love you though right?'

He grins at me and opens his arms wide. ‘Of course, what's not to love?'

We complete our lap of the college. I slip back into class and Useless follows five minutes later. Marcus, thankfully, doesn't seem to notice how long I've been gone. My phone vibrates. It's a text from Simon confirming he's picking me up from college today. He usually works away a lot but since Mum's attack Andy has made sure he stays local, which is good, coz having Simon around makes me feel safe.

Unfortunately, it's taken all this shit to happen to make me realise Simon is actually my real Dad.

‘Hi,' I say climbing into the car. Simon smiles but his eyes never do.

‘Hello trouble,' he replies. ‘How was college?'

‘S'okay I suppose.' I tell him about rehearsals and
Knockin' on Heaven's Door
. He looks sad but tries to hide it, sad and tired. Acting is draining, I should know.

Simon tells me a bit about work then we talk about Mum.

‘Do you know Guns and Roses did a cover of
Knockin' on Heaven's Door?
Early 90s I think it was,' Simon says. ‘I saw them perform it live, at Wembley. Turns out your Mum did as well. We were both actually at the same concert.'

I smile. I can't imagine Mum being into heavy rock and the outspoken ranting of Axle Rose.

‘Course we didn't know each other then …'

Simon pauses for a moment, looks lost in thought, then smiles again. He looks at me. ‘Wish I had known your Mum then. She's made me Cassie, made me a better man.' He looks
back
towards the road in front of us. I squeeze his arm. He coughs and clears his throat. ‘Course, if I had known her then and we'd got together there'd have been no you or Connor or Maisy. And life would certainly have been a lot less interesting then eh?' We both laugh.

‘Hmmmmm, it certainly would have been a lot quieter I reckon.'

We carry on talking about Mum for a while. I ask Simon if he washes her too sometimes. He says he does. I want to ask him if he does her boobs and wanny but then change my mind. I turn the radio on even though I have a thumping headache and Bob Marley's voice blares out the song
Three Little Birds
. Simon looks across at me and we smile, like properly smile at each other. As Bob's warm, soulful voice continues to fill our ears I have an overwhelming feeling – or is it still just desperate hope – that everything really is going to be okay. Before I know it me and Simon are singing and laughing hysterically. Maybe Mum is going be all right, maybe this song coming on the radio just at this moment is a sign?

I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and choose to ignore it, preferring to continue listening to Bob and his Wailers. Simon looks the happiest I've seen him in ages. The song comes to an end and my phone is vibrating again. I pull it from my pocket, a bit annoyed if I'm honest. I answer it and its Nan but I can't understand her for crying. I tell her to slow down coz I can't make out what she's saying. She's quiet for a moment then repeats what she's just said, this time more slowly. I let the words sink in but I feel sick and can't talk. I can actually feel the blood drain from my face. Simon looks at me, confused.

‘What? What is it?' he asks.

‘Kay, okay Nan,' I eventually manage to say. ‘I'll tell Simon, yes, yeah we'll come straight there.'

I stare at my phone, not believing the words that just came
from
it. ‘What? Tell me what?' Simon says again. I slowly look across at him.

‘Oh my god Simon … we … we have to go to the hospital.'

My head is spinning. I feel like I've drunk too much or smoked too much weed.

‘STOP THE CAR SIMON – PLEASE STOP THE CAR!' I yell but it's too late. The food in my stomach has climbed into my throat and before I know it I vomit across the dashboard.

Clearly everything is
not
going be okay.

Chapter 40

GONE … BUT NOT FORGOTTEN

CASSIE

I feel numb. Why is it raining? Why is the sky grey? And why is the wind blowing? Connor says heaven is crying. I'm not crying. I just feel numb. Simon is crying – no sound, just silent tears running down his cheeks. He's got his arm around Ruby who is crying uncontrollably. Great sobs of bare, naked grief; all gaping and exposed for everyone to see. Her tears are black from the mascara running down her face.

No one is wearing black, we weren't allowed to. Bright, bold colours, that was the request. A celebration of life is what today is supposed to be. But how can we celebrate life when death is so final? The end – the full stop – of all vital functions of the body including the heartbeat. That's what I read when I looked up the definition of death.

Oh god, I think Ruby has collapsed. Simon and Maisy are helping her up. They sit her down on the sofa. People are rushing over to her. Someone is giving her a glass of water. I laugh to myself coz I can hear Mum in my head and what she would have said,

“Water? What good is water? Have we no wine here?”

Connor looks up at me. It's strange because I hadn't noticed it before but he doesn't look up at me very much at all these days. He's grown so much, and Mum missed it. Connor tugs my jacket. His lips quiver and his eyes are glassy reflecting my
grief.
But like me, he doesn't cry. It's as if we're both afraid to. No words spoken, we hug each other.

‘I'm so glad I have you,' I whisper in his ear. He doesn't reply, just nods his head up and down in agreement. I feel a big strong arm fold around me. I'm so glad Dad is here. He doesn't say anything either, just looks down at me, and smiles. I manage to smile back. I look across the room and catch Simon watching us. He smiles at me too, and winks, but his eyes are not smiling, just his mouth. Poor Simon, he looks so tired and worn out.

Joe isn't here. “I don't do funerals babe”, he said.

People keep coming up to me and saying things but thankfully no one seems to expect me to reply, which is just as well really coz I think my numbness has affected my hearing coz I can't really hear what they say. I catch odd words or phrases from time to time like “so sorry”, or “lovely person”, or “so young”, or “here if you need us”. But it's all just noise to me.

I look around the room amazed at all the people here, all in their bright, colourful clothes. I watch them, fascinated how they manage to talk about the weather and the economy and even laugh a little. Not loud, belly laughter. It's sort of restrained, polite laughter; but laughter all the same.

Someone has gone; the world will never be the same again. Everyone, everything should just stop, at least for a moment – shouldn't it?

My numbness is changing to a weird tingling sensation as the hearse pulls up outside the house. The room is starting to sway. I didn't want breakfast this morning but Simon said I had to try and eat something and now I can feel toast in my throat coz I can't control the tummy spasms forcing it back upwards. I manage, somehow, to swallow my marmalade-flavoured sick back down, repulsed at myself. Connor grabs my hand and holds it in his and I'm surprised at its rough texture; Connor the man-child. I feel Dad's hand in my back, gently pushing us
towards
the door.

Most of the people in the room step back politely; it looks like the parting of a sea of people, paving the way for close family and friends. Simon is up ahead, still supporting Ruby. Who's supporting Simon though? Nan and Grandad are here too of course. They look small and frail today. Grandad is unusually quiet. It wouldn't be respectful or right but I wish he'd shout out his usual,

“It's not a life, it's an adventure!!!”

This doesn't feel like an adventure though. It's not a life anymore. Death is the full stop; the punctuation mark that brings everything that was alive and touchable to a standstill.

I can't remember how I got from the house to the car or the journey for that matter. I remember looking out of the window and faces, serious and sombre, staring back. I remember trembling and my teeth chattering. Am I just cold, or frightened, or both? I remember the rain, each and every drop crashing onto the roof, colliding with the windows. And then suddenly we are at the church – the final destination.

The church, probably really beautiful in sunlight, is fearful today, as dark and gothic as my heart. Even the colours of the huge stained glass windows seem washed out. Dad has guided me and Connor to one of the long, dark benches at the front. We sit, listening to the church fill up behind us. There is a gentle hum of voices, whispered conversations, quiet crying and polite coughing, until eventually the heavy, wooden doors bang to a close. Silence reigns, before the wind rasps and rattles every sealed window and door, demanding to be let in, eventually finding its own way through. It salsa's around my feet and hands, my big nose and my small ears. I want to stamp some
life
back into my feet, but I feel rooted to the spot, frozen and unable to move.

The vicar, priest man person is talking. He welcomes everyone on this sad day I think. I can hear the droning of his voice vibrate high up into the arches of the ceiling – I can even see his lips moving but everything seems muffled as if I'm underwater. I stand up when we're supposed to sing hymns and sit down again when we finish singing. Who's laughing? I can hear laughing. Death isn't funny. I look up, relieved to see Simon is now speaking. He probably said something funny. He continues to talk and I can hear again. I've surfaced for air and the mute button is deactivated. Simon's voice is warm and familiar. Simon's voice is home. He reads something by Samuel Butler.

“I fall asleep in the full and certain hope That my slumber shall not be broken; And that, though I be all-forgetting,

Yet shall I not be all-forgotten,

But continue that life in the thoughts and deeds Of those I have loved”

Simon has to stop from time to time, his voice gripped by grief, before taking a deep breath and soldiering on. It's all too much for Ruby though who now seems to be wailing. It's a terrifying sound and I wish she would stop. My throat tightens and hot salty water bathes my eyes and blurs my vision. I purse my lips and use every ounce of strength not to blink. I will not cry. I will not cry.