The Mummyfesto (46 page)

I watched them for a moment. Saw Zach looking at the water fountain, no doubt asking Julie a dozen questions about how it worked. Saw Mum and Dad sitting next to each other on the garden bench. Their eyes on Zach. Dad’s hand resting lightly on Mum’s knee.

I got into bed next to Oscar. Curled myself around him, the way I used to do when he was a baby, and breathed him in as I held him in my arms.

‘You have brought us nothing but joy,’ I whispered. ‘Joy and love and laughter. And we wouldn’t have missed having you as our little boy for anything in the world. And now you’re going to be the birdman of Bognor. Just like you always wanted.’

Rob broke down sobbing next to me. He leant over, his long fingers sliding through Oscar’s hair.

‘We’ll get you some gel on that, mate, don’t worry.’

Oscar laughed. His last breath was a laugh, not a wheeze. And then he slipped away.

Marie and Chris came to take Oscar through to the butterfly room. Marie didn’t need to be there, but I think she wanted to.

‘Are you ready?’ Marie asked softly, shortly afterwards. I looked at Rob. He nodded.

Julie brought Zach in from the garden and we walked through to the butterfly suite together. The chill was actually oddly welcoming. Cooling things off, slowing them down, allowing us to steady ourselves. I looked at the things Zach had put out for Oscar and arranged on the bed.

‘Thank you, sweetheart,’ I said. ‘What a good job you’ve done here. Oscar will love it.’

Chris and Marie lifted Oscar on to the bed. Zach came across and pulled the duvet over him.

‘Look, it’s the Mickey Mouse one,’ he said. For a second I thought Oscar might reply until I remembered he couldn’t. We wouldn’t be hearing his voice ever again. I sat down next to the bed, pulled Zach up on to my lap and took Oscar’s hand.

‘Hello, sweetheart,’ I said. ‘Your big brother’s done a fantastic job for you, getting this lovely room ready. You can rest now, love. That’s why you’re here.’

The one thing I hadn’t been expecting was to get so used to it. Seeing Oscar’s body lying there. Not once did I flinch when I walked into the room or feel the need to avert my gaze.

I actually found it enormously comforting, seeing him lying so serenely. My grandmother had cancelled my grandfather’s cremation at the last minute after going to view his body at the morgue. I understood that now because I didn’t think of it as Oscar’s body at all. It was Oscar. And the mere thought of sending him to a furnace sent me cold.

There had been no question about where Oscar would be buried. It had been one of the first things I’d talked to Julie about when we’d arrived at the hospice. I’d looked the place up online about a year ago when I’d heard them talking at work about a child being buried there.

Bluebell Hill, it was called. A natural burial ground only a couple of miles from the hospice. Tucked away in one of those quiet corners of Huddersfield that it was easy to forget existed. It was green and tranquil. A place to sit and remember. A place you would want to be.

I didn’t tell Rob that I had checked it out a year ago. It seemed wrong somehow to admit I had been looking at such things before Oscar had even started school. I didn’t want him to think I had doubted Oscar’s ability to survive. It had simply been that I’d needed to know there was somewhere nice he could go to if the worst did happen. Somewhere he’d be able to be at peace.

We were having the actual service there too. We both wanted it to be outdoors. Open to the elements. Not
constrained by a building. Or religion, of course. A humanist celebrant with pink hair called Marika was leading the service. It was, as Rob had already pointed out, very Hebden Bridge.

I turned to look at Rob. He was standing by the patio doors, gazing out into the garden, as he had done on so many occasions over the past three days.

‘Do you know the really weird thing?’ he asked. I shook my head. ‘I don’t actually want to leave. If they offered us a two-year lease I’d take it right now. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? Coming from someone who used to be too scared to set foot in the place.’

‘We can come back as often as we like. The counselling will carry on. Zach can still go to the sibling group.’

‘I know, and that’s all great. But tonight we’ve got to go home for good. Back to our house. And Oscar isn’t going to be there.’

I walked over and wrapped my arms around him. ‘For what it’s worth,’ I said, ‘it scares the hell out of me too. But we need to do it for Zach’s sake. We need to create a new kind of normal. Whatever that’s going to be.’

‘It’ll be quiet,’ said Rob. ‘That’s the thing I’m dreading most. How quiet it will be.’

‘Mealtimes,’ I said. ‘That’s what I’m dreading. The empty place at the table. Not having to tell him about speaking with his mouth full.’

‘And birthdays and Christmas and going out without him. We’re going to have to sell the car, aren’t we? Just get a little runabout instead.’

‘Yeah, I know. I was thinking maybe we could use the money to go on holiday this summer. Cornwall would be nice. You can stay at a lighthouse, you know. I’ve seen them in a brochure. I’d like to take Zach to stay at a lighthouse. I want to sit with him and watch the waves crashing on the rocks. We can take his telescope. They sky will be so clear, he’ll love it.’

Rob kissed me on the forehead. ‘Silly old bean,’ he said. ‘That’s what Oscar would have said.’

There was a knock on the door. Julie had come back with Zach.

‘We’ve got it,’ he said, holding up a tube of hair gel.

‘Come on then,’ smiled Rob, ‘you’d better put it on for him.’

I watched as Zach squeezed some gel onto the palm of his hand, rubbed his hands together and started applying it. To describe it to anyone else, it might well sound macabre. But to me, standing there, watching him, it was the most beautiful display of brotherly love I had ever seen.

‘There,’ said Zach finally, stepping back to admire his handiwork. ‘What do you think?’

I looked at Oscar, dressed in his favourite orange shorts and blue-and-orange stripy T-shirt, his hair gelled up at the front, just how he liked it.

‘I think he looks a treat,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’ Zach came over and let me ruffle his hair. ‘Right then,’ I said, looking up at Rob. ‘I guess we’d better get ready too.’

I’d asked people not to wear black. There wasn’t anything
black about Oscar. I’d asked for stripes instead. In as many different colours as possible. Oscar would have liked that. It would have made him laugh.

Zach came with us to get changed. He put on his rainbow striped T-shirt. Mum had been back to the house to get what we needed. She’d brought my green-and-yellow stripy knitted top and the green skirt with wavy lines on. She’d even managed to find an old stripy tie of Rob’s that he didn’t know he had.

‘There,’ I said when we’d finished. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think Oscar will giggle when he sees us,’ said Zach, before stopping short as he realised what he’d said and looking up at me with sorrowful eyes. ‘I mean he would have. In the old days.’ I took him into my arms and squeezed him tight. Trying not to think about the old days.

The horse-drawn hearse had been Zach’s idea. He’d seen it in a folder of photos Julie had shown us. Said he thought Oscar would have loved it. Mum and Dad had insisted on paying for it. They’d wanted to do something to help and had seemed massively relieved to be able to. The lady who ran the company had apologised about the fact that they only had black horses, but she’d got some rainbow plumes for them and had even gone to the trouble of finding a rainbow blanket for the driver’s legs.

We stood and watched as Oscar’s tiny bamboo coffin was carried out of the hospice and loaded into the hearse. Zach in the middle of us, clutching our hands very hard. Everyone had come out to pay their respects: staff, volunteers,
other parents. The courtyard was awash with stripes. Simon had an outfit on which made him look like an icecream seller. It was great, though. People were actually smiling as they blinked away their tears. Oscar would have loved to know he’d left the audience with smiles on their faces.

Marie and Julie were going with us. They were taking Mum and Dad. It was only going to be a small gathering at Bluebell Hill. We’d wanted it that way.

I took Zach up to stroke the nose of one of the horses. It snorted and shook its head. I reached out too, its velvety muzzle soft against my fingers.

‘Mummy says you’ve got to go slowly,’ Zach instructed the horse, ‘but I think you should go a bit fast. Just at the end. Oscar liked going fast.’

I smiled and guided Zach towards the car where Rob was waiting. He’d left the side door open for us. I was going to sit with Zach on the way in case he got upset. Oscar’s powerchair was in the back of the car where we’d left it. Zach stopped for a second as he saw it. I wasn’t sure where it was going to go.

‘Can we give it to someone else now?’ asked Zach. ‘Because Oscar doesn’t need it anymore.’

I nodded. Sat down next to him and helped him put on his seat belt.

As it happened, Zach was fine on the journey. Looking out of the windows, following the progress of the hearse. Asking why everyone was slowing down or stopping to let us go.

‘Look,’ he said, suddenly pointing. I followed the direction of his gaze. There were five houses in a row, all with Lollipop Party posters in the window. We had stepped outside our bubble. We were back in the outside world.

We rounded the corner into Bluebell Hill and came to a halt behind the hearse. A small gathering of people were waiting for us: our nearest and dearest, dressed in stripes of every colour, like a big clump of flowers, brightening up the hillside. I could see Alice in a green-and-white striped T-shirt with a big pink heart on it, clutching Jackie’s hand. Esme next to her, her hair tied back off her face in a huge rainbow bow, tugging on Anna’s arm, pointing to the horses.

‘They all really loved Oscar, didn’t they?’ said Zach.

‘Yes,’ I said, turning to look at him. ‘They did.’

‘I’m going to read some of Oscar’s favourite jokes,’ said Zach, as Rob passed him a book from inside his jacket pocket.

‘What did the policeman say to his tummy?’ Zach paused for a second, looked around at the assembled mourners in case any of them were going to proffer an answer, before announcing proudly, ‘You are under a vest.’

Alice giggled. Not as much as she’d giggled when Oscar had told it, but she giggled all the same.

I watched Zach as he carried on, marvelling at his ability to retain his composure while all around him were either laughing, crying or a mixture of both. He’d asked Sam if he could do it. She’d told me that. She hadn’t been sure at first, had been worried it would prove too much for him. But I was so glad she’d said yes in the end, because this was helping. It was helping Zach and it was helping all of us to be able to smile again. When he’d finished
there was a spontaneous round of applause. I saw Rob ruffle Zach’s hair; Sam hug him to her. A plume of pride rising above there heads.

I hadn’t gone to Deborah’s funeral. I supposed it hadn’t been considered appropriate in those days. Or maybe Mum and Dad simply hadn’t thought I’d be able to cope with it. Perhaps I wouldn’t have, not that sort of funeral. But this, this was different. This was lifting Zach up. And it would sustain him for years to come. Knowing he had said goodbye to his brother in such a special way.