One Moment, One Morning (6 page)

She is adamant Aaron must focus on himself. ‘We both know we’re not here to discuss Kyra, or what Kyra thinks of me,’ she says. Then she pauses, and asks, ‘I am interested, though. How would it help you to know if I’m gay or not?’

‘So you
are
gay then.’ Aaron grins with satisfaction. ‘That’s what I reckon.’

For the moment he seems content to leave it there, and Lou decides not to push him. But intuitively she knows this won’t be the last of it. Aaron will provoke her again, she feels sure.

*     *     *     

Having rung the solicitor and Simon’s work, Anna wants to make one more call before she returns to Karen. She needs to keep it brief, as she is concerned Karen is sitting alone in the cafe, but she must bring Steve, her partner, up to speed. She has tried him twice already, from the train, but he is not picking up his phone and it is not the kind of thing you leave a message about. This time, however, he answers.

‘Hello?’ He sounds bleary.

‘Ah, at last. I’ve been trying you for ages. Where were you?’

‘Oh, sorry, I was asleep.’

Typical, thinks Anna, glancing at her watch. It is nearly midday. She knows Steve has got no work lined up – he is a painter and decorator and sometimes has periods of inactivity. Nonetheless, it is a Monday and she finds it irritating that he chooses to waste half the day. It would gall her under normal circumstances when she has to be up at six thirty, but the fact that he has slept through such a major crisis means she finds it hard to break the news as tactfully as she could.

‘I need you to wake up.’

‘Yeah, yeah. OK, I’m awake.’

‘Something’s happened.’

‘Oh, what?’

‘It’s Simon.’

‘Simon as in Karen and Simon?’

‘Yes.’

‘What’s he done?’

‘He’s not
done
anything.’ Anna’s annoyance increases. Steve and Simon aren’t especially good friends, but how inappropriate that Steve should assume Simon has done something deserving blame. She delivers the information bluntly, with no softening. ‘He’s dead.’

‘You’re joking.’

‘No, Steve, I’m not.’ She pauses to allow him to assimilate. ‘He died on the train. Of a heart attack.’

‘Oh, Christ.’ Steve can obviously tell from her tone that she is serious. ‘How?’

‘I don’t know exactly, I guess he just had a massive coronary. They tried to revive him, apparently, to no avail.’

‘Jesus. Poor Karen.’

‘I know.’

‘Where are you now?’

‘I’m with her.’

‘You didn’t go to work, then?’

Anna sighs, her anger subsiding. Most of her rage is projection at what’s happened, anyway, nothing to do with Steve. ‘I did, actually. It’s a long story. I’ll explain it fully later. I just needed you to know, that’s all.’

‘Yes, well, blimey, sorry, I’m a bit shocked.’ Anna can hear the rustle of sheets as he sits up in bed. ‘Where are you exactly?’

‘In a cafe in Kemptown, opposite the hospital.’

‘What are you going to do now?’

‘I’m not sure. Spend some time with Karen, I guess. She needs me. She’s in a total state, understandably.’

‘Of course.’

‘They’re moving Simon to a viewing room or something, so we’re going back inside in a minute.’

‘Right. Er . . . what about the kids?’

‘They’re with the childminder.’

‘Do they know?’

‘No, not yet. I guess we’ll deal with that later.’

‘Do you need me to come down?’

Anna pauses to consider. She would like his support, but isn’t one hundred per cent confident he’ll help the situation. Steve can be a bit blundering when it comes to emotional issues – not always, but sometimes, and she is never sure which way it will go. He doesn’t know Karen nearly as well as she does. Plus she imagines Karen would rather not be with a couple at present. ‘No, no, it’s probably best not.’

‘Is there anything I can do?’

Again she reflects. She doesn’t find it easy asking for help. ‘Not at the moment, that I can think of.’

‘You sure?’

He is trying his best, she can tell. She softens further. ‘No, don’t worry. I’ll call you later. Just be there when I get in.’ She does not want him out at the pub when she returns: she is sure of that at least. ‘Perhaps you can make me dinner?’

‘Of course I will.’

At once Anna feels a rush of affection. Steve might not be perfect, but he is still alive; she is thankful. No, more than thankful: she is
lucky.
‘I do love you, honey,’ she says.

‘Love you too, babe. You know I do.’

This is true. When he is on form, and sober, Steve is one of the most loving men Anna has ever met.

*     *     *     

At eleven fifty-five, when Lou is between clients, her mother rings. Her mother knows she has a few minutes between each session and has a maddening habit of timing it so as to catch her daughter for the full slot. She even rings on the landline so Lou can’t vet the call. It might, after all, be one of the other members of staff, who also know she has this time free, so Lou is obligated to answer. Lou really hates this habit of her mother’s, as she needs the space to clear her head, and her mother’s calls tend to be all-consuming, even three-minute ones. Her mother talks fast, and – it seems to Lou – manages to squeeze more neurosis into one hundred and eighty seconds than any other human being she has ever encountered. Today Lou’s head is especially full as she is still trying to process the experience on the seven forty-four. Right now though, there’s a fat chance.

‘Darling,’ says her mum. ‘I know it’s short notice, but I’m calling to see if you might come up this weekend. Uncle Pat and Auntie Audrey are going to be here and they’d love to see you.’

Oh, no, thinks Lou. She quite likes Aunt Audrey, her mum’s sister, but Uncle Pat is nearly as hard work as her mother. Anyway, she has plans.

But her mother hurtles on before she can get a word in. ‘Now you know Uncle Pat’s not been too good of late—’ Lou does know this; how could she not? Her Uncle Pat has suffered from Crohn’s disease almost ever since she can remember, and recently his condition has been particularly bad. She also knows her mum will use Uncle Pat’s illness to manipulate her daughter into doing what she wants: but her mother is like a steamroller when she gets going; she flattens all in her path.

‘Well, he’s good again now, having been laid up for several weeks. So you can imagine, Auntie Audrey is desperate to get away. She’s been cooped up in that little bungalow for ages’ – Lou shudders; what a ghastly thought. She feels for Aunt Audrey – ‘and of course I suggested that they come here. So they’re coming as soon as they can, as I’ve a room free this weekend.’ Lou’s mum lives in the country, in a large house outside Hitchin, which she runs as a bed and breakfast. ‘The thing is’ – Lou braces herself, though she already knows what the punchline is going to be. Sure enough – ‘I can’t really manage them both, on my own.’ Then she delivers another blow to ensure Lou is well and truly beaten. ‘With my hip, it’s just too difficult for me to get to the shops, show them round, entertain them all the time.’ Rubbish, thinks Lou. When she chooses to let rooms, her hip has never stopped her. Cooking a full English, making beds, putting on a brave face – surely it is harder work with strangers than with Lou’s uncle and aunt. Peculiar, that: where money is involved, Lou’s mother will be brave as anything. Still, on her mum rolls: ‘So I thought you could come up – it’s not too far for you, is it darling, if you come after work on Thursday? You can get the train to King’s Cross from Hammersmith, then on up here.’ If she were not used to this, Lou would not believe it – her mother is actually roping her into three days, not two. What about my sister? she thinks furiously. Can’t Georgia help? She knows there is no point in arguing. Lou’s younger sister has a husband and children, and her mother never asks her to do even a quarter of what is required of Lou.

‘Mum,’ she says finally, aware the spiel is drawing to a close now her mother has made her demand, ‘it’s very short notice and I have made arrangements already, you know.’ It is true: she plays tennis first thing every Friday morning, then she helps out at a local hostel for the homeless, and she has been invited to a party on Saturday.

‘Really? I’m so sorry. Oh, well, if you’re too busy . . .’ There is a pause, which Lou’s mother fills with silent disappointment.

‘Let me have a think. I’ll see what I can do.’

More silence. Lou knows her mum is waiting for her to speak again – an ingenious tactic designed to further her own cause.

‘I may be able to come for some of it,’ she relents, eventually. The guilt, the guilt! She is livid. She knew she would give in; she always does.

‘OK, darling, of course the whole weekend would be best, obviously. So let me leave it with you.’

That’s big of you, thinks Lou.

Just then, there is a tap on her door. It is her next student.

‘Listen, Mum, I have to go.’

‘Sure, that’s fine. But Lou—?’

‘Yeees . . .’ Lou tries not to sound impatient.

‘Will you let me know tonight? It’s just, if you can’t come, well, I’ll have to cancel them. And I don’t think it’s fair to do that
too
late in the day.’

FUCK OFF! thinks Lou. But instead she just mutters, ‘Sure, of course,’ and puts the phone down. She is so angry and feeling so bullied, that she is shaking. With a mother like hers – so controlling, so self-obsessed, so tunnel-visioned – is it any wonder Lou has never been honest with her about her own sexuality?

The hospital is a maze of corridors and wards, annexes and Portakabins, and neither Karen nor Anna is in the right frame of mind to work out the signs. They head to A&E, but when they arrive and ask at reception, they are told to wait, and eventually a kindly-faced nurse emerges.

‘Is one of you Mrs Finnegan?’ she asks.

Karen nods.

‘Your husband has been put in the viewing room. I’ll show you the way if you like.’

‘Please,’ says Anna.

They follow her clicking heels down several linoleum flights of stairs and along even more corridors. They end up outside some double doors and a sign saying
MORTUARY
. It all seems terribly brutal.

The nurse buzzes and they are let in.

‘It’s Mrs Finnegan,’ she says to a man in a white coat.

‘Mr Finnegan is in the viewing room,’ he says. ‘But hold on a second.’ He goes to a locker, opens it and gets out a large bin bag.

‘Which one of you is Mrs Finnegan?’ he asks.

‘Me,’ says Karen.

‘These are your husband’s personal effects.’

‘Oh,’ says Karen. ‘Thank you.’ She glances inside.

‘It’s mainly his clothes,’ says the man. ‘And his briefcase.’

‘Right.’

‘I’ll show you where to go if you like,’ says the nurse, and leads them to a second door. She opens it and they step inside.

Simon is lying on his back with his arms placed neatly over a white cotton blanket. He has been dressed in a hospital gown, Anna notices. The only light comes from a window, which is partially covered by a Venetian blind, its slats turned at an angle so they can see but it is not too bright.

‘Please feel free to be here however long you want, Mrs Finnegan,’ the nurse says.

‘Really?’

Anna is surprised. She had assumed time would be limited.

‘Yes,’ assures the nurse. ‘I understand your husband’s death was very sudden?’

Karen nods again.

‘A lot of people find it helpful to stay with a relative’s body for a while. There really is no need to rush. We’ll leave you with him here a few hours if you like.’

‘Thank you,’ says Karen.

The nurse turns to Anna. ‘Are you a friend?’

‘Yes.’

‘I wonder if I might have a quick word outside?’

‘Of course.’

They step back into the corridor.

‘You might like to give Mrs Finnegan some time with her husband alone,’ suggests the nurse, her voice low. ‘It can help people accept what’s happened. It must be a terrible, terrible shock.’

‘Yes, sure. ’Anna was going to do this anyway. ‘Er . . . before you go, can I ask you something?’

‘Fire ahead.’

‘My friend, Karen, has two small children.’

‘Right.’ The nurse sighs, empathizing.

‘I just wondered, whether, well, what we should do about them? What should we tell them?’

The nurse takes a deep breath. ‘In my experience, it’s best not to protect them too much. So, once your friend has had some time to take in what’s happened, it would be good if you could encourage her to be as honest with them as she can. Within reason, obviously, if they are very small.’

‘Do you think we should bring them here to say goodbye?’

‘How old are they, exactly?’

Anna considers, then says, ‘Three and five.’

The nurse pauses. ‘It’s a really tough one and not everyone would say so, no. But personally – and we do see a number of deaths in cardiac – I would say yes, if they want to come, bring them. Though later today it’s likely that Mr Finnegan’s body will have to be moved.’

‘To where?’

‘As his was a sudden death, there will have to be a post-mortem.’

‘When will that be?’