Goose (14 page)

Three days have passed since the accident. Flo left me for the first time this morning. She needed to go home to do some revision, but I couldn't give a shit about the exams right now. I don't want to be anywhere but my bedroom. As soon as I leave it, someone asks me how I'm feeling. Such a stupid question.

I wonder if I will ever have an answer other than ‘like the weight of a dead person is leaning against my left side'. Because that's the truth. My broken arm is sore and it reminds me of Matt's body, because that's what crushed it. My left arm will always be associated with him now, and that will always be attached to me. So I will never escape this. I'm trying to be grateful that I'm still alive and to remind myself that I'm really lucky, but life has changed forever.

Matt dying is the strangest feeling. I'm not grieving, because I didn't know him. I can't think back to loving memories or feel sad because I lost a friend, because I didn't. My feelings are so much more disconnected than that. It's about guilt, and regret. I should never have let him drive my car. I knew chicken was a bad idea, but I let my guard down and I was so stupid to do it. And now two people have lost their son and I know that they must be hurting so much. I feel bad that I will walk away from this with a sore arm and a bad memory, but they will never see their son again.

There's a knock on my bedroom door. ‘The phone, for you. I think it's Dean,' says Aunty Jo, passing me the phone.

‘Hello?' I say.

‘Renée, babe, it's me. I hadn't heard from you in a few days, I missed your body. Then Meg told me what happened, I can't believe it. Are you OK?'

I hadn't been able to call him, I didn't know how to explain what happened, but I am so happy to hear that he cares.

‘It's horrible, Dean. So horrible.'

‘Babe, I can't imagine what you're going through. You must be in such a state. I want to see you, you can tell me everything.'

‘Are you home all day?' I ask.

‘All day. I won't go out, just come when you can. I'm here for you, babe.'

‘Thank you.' I hang up. Aunty Jo comes back in.

‘Flo called while you were sleeping. She said she wondered if she should come here so we can all go to the funeral together on Saturday.'

‘Sure,' I say, robotically.

‘And I was wondering how you were feeling. Maybe this is the right time to go and see Mr and Mrs Richardson. I know it's terrifying, but I do think it's the right thing to do before the funeral.'

I roll onto my side. It hurts.

‘I can't,' I cry. Proving that no amount of crying can dry up the tears of a tragedy like this.

‘Yes, you can. Come on.'

Aunty Jo guides me out of bed and into the bathroom.

‘Wash your face, clean your teeth, and let's go and do the right thing.'

As we pull up to Matt's house the reality of what happened strikes me again. It's such a lovely house. Big and pretty, an old Guernsey farmhouse with ivy growing up it and a lovely door with a sign saying
Sunset View.
I imagine him walking home from school and his mum opening the door and cuddling him. I know he was really close to her. He went for hot chocolate in town with her – I don't know anyone else who goes for hot chocolate in town with their mum. I've felt nerves before, but this is different. I don't feel like there are butterflies in my tummy, I feel like there are rats scratching around. I have to concentrate hard not to let them run up my throat.

‘OK?' says Aunty Jo. ‘Are you ready?'

I'm not ready. How can you ever be ready for something like this? They must hate me so much. I bet they wish I was dead, that Matt had the broken arm and that my ribs and lungs were crushed instead.

‘Do you want me to come in with you?' Aunty Jo asks.

‘What if she tries to hit me?'

‘She won't try to hit you, but if she is angry and needs to express that, you have to accept it. Coming here is very brave, and I am sure they will appreciate it. You want me to come?'

‘No, I'd better do this on my own. You stay here with Nana.'

‘You were always the best dancer. You can do it,' says Nana, somehow picking up on my nerves even if she hasn't a clue what's going on.

I get out of the car, open the little gate at the end of the path and look up at the house. Such a pretty house, now filled with sadness. I've ruined their happy home. I knock gently on the door.

First I hear a dog trying to sniff me under the door. I cross my fingers and hope they're out.
Please be out, I'm not ready for this
. Then I hear footsteps. And then the door opens. Mrs Richardson is standing in front of me, and the world stops turning.

‘Mrs Richardson, I don't know if you remember me. I'm R—'

‘Renée? Renée Sargent?' she says, looking at me in a completely unreadable way. She goes still, then steps forward quickly and I think she's going to punch me, so I shut my eyes and hold my breath.

But she doesn't.

She hugs me.

Sitting alone on the sofa in the living room, I take in my surroundings. It isn't a sad room. It's full of photographs of Matt, his mum and a man I presume to be his dad. There is also a picture of Jesus over the fireplace, and a cross above the door. As I look closer I see a picture frame with some writing in it. It says:

I turn away from it quickly. I can't read things like that right now. I can't handle it.

‘You said no sugar, didn't you?'

‘Yes.'

I take the tea.

‘Thank you for coming. I'm sure you were very nervous,' Mrs Richardson says, sitting next to me on the sofa. Her face is puffy.

‘I thought you would hate me, not want me here.'

‘Hate you? I don't hate you, Renée. You were the last person to see my son before he died. That makes you special to me, special to him too. I can't hate you.'

My body adjusts to the relief. I hadn't realised how tense every muscle in my body was until she said that.

‘You seem OK,' I say. Knowing I worded it badly.

‘I am so sad, Renée. Matt was an angel, my angel. My only son, all I had left in the world.' A single tear runs down her right cheek and I see that she is far from OK.

‘What about Mr Richardson. How is he?'

‘There is no Mr Richardson any more, I'm afraid. My husband died when Matt was ten. It was just Matt and me.'

My eyes fill up with tears. Damn it! I don't want to cry in front of her. It isn't fair. I have no right. She is the one who should cry, not me. I feel selfish and pathetic. How dare I come here and sob to the woman who just lost her son when all I have is a broken arm?

And then she puts her hand on my knee.

‘Dear Lord,' she says. Her eyes are closed, and out of respect I close mine too. ‘Please help Renée through this time. Help her see that there is no anger, no hate, and that she must enjoy being young, and live her life the way she always wanted. Please help her rest at night and free her mind of worry and guilt. Please forgive her as I have, Lord, and let her life be full of joy and happiness, and not let what has happened infringe upon her youth. Thank you, Lord. Amen.'

‘Amen,' I say. But what I wanted to say was thank you.

We talk a little longer about what she has organised for the funeral. The choir Matt sang in when he was younger, a reading by his cousin. She has it all under control. I think she's incredible. When I've finished my tea, I say I had better go.

As I make my way to the front door, Mrs Richardson behind me, I turn back to her.

‘Even if you don't think I should say it, I am so sorry for what's happened. I'll always think of Matt, and if it's OK with you, when I come back to Guernsey after I've left, I'll come and see you, just to make sure you are all right?'

‘I'd love that, thank you.'

I open the front door and step out.

‘And Renée?' says Mrs Richardson. ‘I knew your mother. We were friends in school. I always loved her, so funny and energetic and beautiful. You look just like her.'

All at once all the feelings that have been churning around me the past few months seems to collide together and I throw myself at Mrs Richardson and squeeze her as hard as I can. I think of Matt and I hold her even tighter. I will never stop being grateful for her grace. Ever.

‘I'm so proud of you,' says Aunty Jo as I get in the car.

‘I'm proud of Matt's mum.' I wave to Mrs Richardson who is still at the door. ‘Being so caring when she must feel like dying.' I shut my eyes, feeling a bit stronger now. I turn to my aunt. ‘Please will you drop me off at Dean's?'

‘Of course.' Aunty Jo pauses as if she has something else to say that she isn't sure about. ‘I'm glad you're feeling more yourself  …  And actually I was wondering – and please say if this is not OK – but I was wondering if you would mind watching Nana tomorrow night. I'm  …  well, I've been asked out to dinner. I won't go if you would rather I didn't, but if you could, I  …  '

I smile at her. She looks so flustered. I've never seen her like this before.

‘Sure. Anyone nice?'

‘Yes,' she says sweetly. ‘Very nice indeed.'

When I knock on his door he answers it so quickly I wonder if he was just sitting there waiting for me.

‘Babe, you're here. I've missed you so much. Come in, come on. I'll take care of you.'

His cuddle is so nice. He is warm and loving and just the way I've always wanted him to be. I know he's always fancied me, but this affection is new. He wants to take care of me and it feels good. He leads me into the kitchen and puts the kettle on.

‘Now, I want you to start from the beginning. Who was Matt? Was he a friend of yours?'

‘Not really. I mean, I knew who he was, but I always thought he was a bit weird and desperate. I'd never really spoken to him before. But I'd fallen out with Flo, and Matt was there, and he and Flo  …  well, they had a bit in common, and I thought Matt would be able to help me sort things out with her so that's why I let him drive my car.'

He listens to me while making some tea. Telling me to slow down and explain properly. He is being so sweet. We go through into the lounge and he sits with me on the sofa.

‘Your arm must be so sore. I'll have to be careful when I make love to you tonight.' He says it like he's joking, but I know he isn't.

‘Dean  …  maybe not tonight, OK?'

‘God, of course. I'm sorry. Of course it's OK, I can wait. So tell me more, what happened after the cars hit each other?'

I'm just registering the blunt inappropriateness of that question right now, when the front door opens and Meg walks into the flat.

‘Renée, babe. How are you?' she says, sounding spaced as usual.

I can't believe it. Couldn't he have told her no, just for today? Just for once I want to be alone with Dean, but Meg is always here, everywhere I look. I don't want to be the moody girlfriend, but sometimes maybe girlfriends should be moody.

‘Renée was just telling me all about the accident,' says Dean, like I've been talking about a film I went to see or something.

‘Oh wow, don't let me stop you. Carry on,' says Meg. ‘Sounds intense.'

Intense? I have no clue how to respond to this. Why do neither of them think this is weird?

‘Actually, I don't want to talk about it any more. Sorry.'

‘Meg, roll us a spliff, will you?' says Dean. ‘Renée and I are going to chill in my room tonight.'

At least Dean gets it. Kind of. He wants us to be alone. He wants to take care of me.

That makes me feel so much better.

Lying on his bed I tell him everything. The way I was covered in Matt's blood, how I felt when I opened my eyes.

‘His hand was on my leg,' I tell him. ‘I saw it and it took me a while to remember whose it could be and where I was. Then I realised that the thing pressing against me was him.'

‘It's so awful, babe.' He hugs me and I sob gently onto his chest. ‘I'm here, I've got you now. Don't worry. Here, have some of this, it will help you sleep.' He passes me the joint and after a few puffs I do my usual wind-down and my eyes start drooping. I feel so safe in his arms, and like when this is all over we will be happy and maybe I will move in, and we will  …  we will  …  I feel myself falling into a peaceful sleep. It's nice. I haven't had a peaceful sleep in a while. Dean gently moves me off him and lays me down. He kisses my forehead softly and strokes my hair.

‘You sleep,' he says. ‘You sleep, I will come to bed soon.'

He shuts his bedroom door and I drift off.

I wake up and for a few blissful seconds I forget about the hideous events of the past week. Dean's bed is so comfy and soft and warm. It's dark, obviously not morning yet, and he isn't next to me. I look at the alarm clock. It's just gone ten o'clock. I have been asleep for hours. I get out of bed and go to the bathroom. Music is coming from the lounge but no voices. Dean must have told Meg to go home.

After a wee – I've got used to doing it with one hand now – I head for the lounge. I'm still very sleepy. When I open the door Dean's face is right in front me. He is kneeling on the floor with his hands on something. It takes me a moment to work out that it's Meg's bum. She is also on her knees but leaning forward in front of him. He's doing her from behind. It looks so casual, so unenergetic. It's so quiet and unpassionate, which is why I think I don't realise what is happening straight away.

‘Babe!' he says, seeing me.

He pulls out of Meg and nudges her so she flops to the side and out of his way.

‘Babe, I  …  ' Dean looks kind of sorry, but at the same time, like he couldn't care less. He is obviously off his face.