Live to Tell (24 page)

We paused outside a double height teak internal front door and Tom pushed it wide, standing back for me to enter. In the large open plan area, huge windows revealed the lights of the city spread before us in the distance and in the gloom of the interior I felt sure that it had been shown to me deliberately in this way, for maximum impact.

A tall slender woman stood before us and she reached out for me and kissed me on the same cheek her husband had chosen. This must be the way of things in the smart set, I thought.

Tom turned on more lights and ushered me to a low, tan leather seating area. Mum had given me a silver frame containing one of the photographs that she took at our wedding to give to Gwen and I held it out to her.

I looked around the minimalist living area and realised that the frame’s ornate silver setting would not fit in here at all. A Picasso nude hung on one wall flanked by a Paul Klee and a Miro and although it was in keeping with its surroundings, I gained the clear impression that it had been put there for effect rather than because its owners appreciated its artistic merit or understood what the artist was trying to achieve. So many people seemed to use art to merely accessorise their lives.

“Um, I thought you might like this,” I said hesitantly. “Obviously, it was taken two years ago but it’s a nice one of Danny.”

I kept the picture turned away from me as I did not want to have to see it. It was taking all my composure to try to speak calmly. “We have some snap-shots taken on holiday last year, but I don’t have them to hand. Maybe I could find some for you that are a bit more recent.”

Gwen stared at the picture. “I’ve never seen Danny in his uniform before, Oh…” She started to catch her breath and Tom put his arm protectively around her.

“Don’t take on, Darling. You’ll upset our guest.”

“But, he looks so happy, doesn’t he?”

I bit my lip, unable to answer her, and suddenly thought how like her mother she looked, even though she was dark and the woman in the graveyard was blonde like Danny. Then I remembered. He said she was a lot older than he was which probably helped explain why I felt so little rapport with her.

Clutching the glass of red wine that Tom pressed upon me, I wished that I had not agreed to come here and, staring at the Picasso, tried to think of a way to cut the evening short but none came to me. Tom was doing his best to fill the gaps in the conversation between us two grief-stricken women.

“There’s something we wanted to discuss with you,” he said, during one of them. “Isn’t there Gwen?”

She nodded. “Please Darling, you explain.” She reached out and took his hand.

“Right,” he continued. “It’s about the trust fund. I don’t know if Dan mentioned it, but there is some money willed by their grandmother. You see Gwen has already inherited her share on her twenty fifth birthday but Dan’s is still tied up and on his death, reverts to Gwen.”

I nodded. The trust fund had not even entered my mind and I wasn’t sure where this was leading. Perhaps they think I’m going to make a claim, I thought, anxiously.

“Did he mention it, at all?”

“He knew it existed but had no idea what it was worth. We planned to move to Wiltshire or Dorset and he hoped there would be enough for the deposit on a house. Now of course, I won’t be going there.” It may have been the red wine, but the night felt very oppressive and I needed fresh air. I began to look around for an escape.

“Well, we’ve talked it over and feel it’s only right that you have some of the money. If he had lived seven months more he would have inherited it all and then it would have come to you anyway…”

“No, please.” I stood up, feeling overcome. “You don’t understand. Danny was the best thing that ever happened to me. I loved him more than life. I want
him
back, not his money. The money is of no interest to me. It’s a family thing that has nothing to do with me. It’s your family. It’s your money. I must go now. I’m sorry.” I looked around desperately, wondering where my coat was.

“Oh, no, there are other things I need to know,” Gwen cried.

“I’m sorry but I can’t help you. Don’t you see? I can’t bear to talk about him.” I rubbed my head and Tom jumped up and tried to hug me but I pushed him away.

“Please don’t get upset. Please sit down again. We know how painful it all is,” he said. “If you can tell us anything at all, it will be a great help. It’s just that Adam couldn’t tell us much and Gwen will have to break the news about Danny’s death to her mother and father. They are both difficult people to deal with and will want detail, especially her father.”

“I don’t understand.”

“My father-in-law will be furious that he wasn’t informed. It’s as simple as that. He has a very bad temper.”

“But they were there. They were at the funeral. He was so awful to me. My father and an Army major had to intervene. It was really upsetting. I want to go now.”

“What? The bastard,” Gwen screamed. “He knew Danny was dead and didn’t tell me? And I’ve been losing sleep over how I’m going to tell them and they knew and never told me.”

Tom held her tightly as she screamed and railed against her father. I just wanted to leave and began to wonder if my angel was actually related to any of these people. As I started to go, Gwen made an effort to compose herself. She pushed her hair back from her face, took a deep breath and leaned forward to kiss me.

“We will try to keep in touch, now that we’ve finally met,” she said. “Won’t we?”

“Yes, of course we will.”

I knew that she didn’t mean it and neither did I. The only thing we had in common was her brother and he was no longer within our reach. What else was there between us? Even the copy of the Picasso, hanging on her wall meant nothing, as I felt sure that as a former art student, my appreciation of its qualities would differ greatly from hers, in ways that I wasn’t eloquent enough to explain.

In my hurry to escape, I forgot to ask them to ring for a taxi to take me to Maida Vale and tumbling down the steel staircase reached the street knowing that I’d have to look for a bus, before I’d stand any chance of finding a black cab. It was raining but I managed to get a bus bound for King’s Cross station, and there I caught a taxi. It took me to the place I used to call our home.

When I arrived, the entrance hall to our block of flats was eerily silent. I walked across its tiled floor to my own front door and let myself in, heaving a sigh of resignation. I stood with my back to the door. Nothing had changed. The air was still, musty, and chill, and a pall of loneliness descended, trapping me beneath it.

Without turning on the lights, I walked through to the main room and stared out into the timeless beauty of the night.

I don’t know how long I stood there. Time really had no meaning for me anymore and it was coldness that finally forced me into movement. With a shudder I drew the curtains and turned on the television set and a table lamp. I knew it would be quite a long time before the heating system warmed me sufficiently, so I dragged a large quilt from my bedroom, draped it around my shoulders and lay down on the sofa.

When I woke it was day light. I was still wearing my winter day clothes and the quilt was wrapped around me like a shroud. Watery, dismal light was creeping past the old curtains, sagging on their pole. Getting up, I left the TV playing quietly in the background and the curtains closed, but I did switch off the light and sat back down, with my head in my hands. Eventually, I lay down again and went back to sleep. There was nothing else to do.

The telephone rang, waking me several times, because my mother, my father and Aunt Jess kept checking that I was alright. I told them that I was and that I would be working at a temp job for a couple of days and would be fine, really. Finally, to get some peace, I had to pull the telephone’s plug from its socket in order to stop it ringing. Even so, the noise wouldn’t stop reverberating inside my head and it felt as if it was on fire.

I think several days went by. I had no fresh food or milk and had to go out to buy some, but as soon as I returned home I curled up again, safe in my sofa routine. I kept the curtains closed and the TV on, day and night, managing on cups of coffee and toast to sustain me, between sleep. Sometimes in my despair, I cried out. Most of the time, I was just numb and thought about nothing.

The postman delivered what seemed like a large quantity of mail but I didn’t bother to get it and it piled up in a heap, inside the front door. I didn’t want any contact with an outside world that my Danny was no longer part of. It could all go to hell.

Sometimes I thought about Aidan. I had no idea whether he was alive or dead, but I was sure that wherever he was, he was not happy and never would be again. We had both paid a heavy price to the insurgents of Northern Ireland and I had not even been there. What had their war to do with me? It made no sense, no sense at all. Then a terrible thought came to me. Are Aidan and I suffering because we have committed a mortal sin? I will have to speak to Dermot about it. He’ll know. When I feel up to it, I thought, when I feel a bit better—and God knows if that will ever be. Wearily, I turned over and fell asleep again.

I was sleeping on my sofa, the TV humming away in the background, when a heavy thumping sound roused me from oblivion. I pushed the quilt away from my face and squinted at the windows, trying to assess what time of day it was. It had to be day-time as hazy light was filtering through the curtains and there seemed to be some kind of quiz show playing silently in my room.

“Oh, go away,” I mumbled, pulling the quilt back into place. The sound increased and I thought that workmen must be hammering at something in the communal hallway. Feeling desperate for quiet, I crept to the front door and opened it a crack to see who was there.

Like a whirlwind, the door burst open propelling me backwards. The diminutive figure of Aunt Jess stood there, wagging her finger at me.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Singh,” she said, turning to my neighbour who was at her heels. “I can take things from here. It was good of you to help. We do appreciate what you’ve done. Please give our regards to your wife.”

“No trouble, only glad to. Well, if it were my daughter, you know…”

“Absolutely, and her father will be so grateful. Thank you again.”

Aunt Jess stood with her hands on her hips looking me up and down. She sniffed and sighed, then strode past me and opened the curtains and one of the main windows, before going back to close the outer door.

“Aunt Jess, please. The room will get cold,” I said.

“Nonsense, it’s as hot and as smelly as a furnace in here. Good heavens, just look at you.”

I sank onto my makeshift bed and started to cry. She sat down and placed her arms around me.

“You haven’t been out at all, have you,” she asked softly. “Like you said, to work, I mean?”

I shook my head. “I need to be on my own. You know, to get over things, but I can’t, I can’t. I wish they’d killed me too. There’s nothing left for me to live for now, is there?”

“Oh, my dear, don’t say that. I know it must seem like that now but there will be. You must try to be positive. Things
will
get better I promise.”

“How can you say that? My life is over. I can’t bear to be without him. I have tried, I have. I just want to die too. I want to die too.”

“Oh, dear, dear me. Oh, my goodness,” she said, sitting next to me and holding me tightly. “Now listen to me. I do know how awful you are feeling.”

“How do you know? You can’t know. You’ve never lost anyone.”

“I can imagine how bad it is. Danny was a wonderful, very special person. I
can
imagine.”

I nodded.

“He was so kind and caring and so good looking. He had the most lovely smile, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but…”

“And your mum told me he was really well endowed too, when she saw him that day, when he came in with no clothes on.”

“Aunt Jess, please stop.” I was so shocked. It was my husband that she was talking about.

“She said he had a really beautiful body. The best she’d ever seen.”

“Stop it,” I spluttered. “Stop it, stop it. Aunt Jess, that’s enough. What are you doing? How can you talk about him like that?”