The Optician's Wife (26 page)

‘We won’t, I promise.’

‘You always argue. I hate it when people shout.’

‘You can stay here if you want,’ I searched his face for further clues as to what he might be thinking.

‘OK. Will you be long?’ he looked so scared, like an animal caught in a trap.

‘No. I promise. Let me talk to them first and then you can come inside, OK?’

Owen nodded and went back to looking out of the window.

Gripping the steering wheel tightly so that my knuckles turned white I willed myself to get out of the car and walk up to the house. Eventually I found the courage to remove the keys from the ignition and open the door. A blast of cold raindrops came rushing into the driver’s seat and I made an effort to move quickly before the inside of the car and Owen were soaked.

‘I won’t be long,’ I told him, slamming the door closed behind me and locking up.

The walk up the small path to the front of Mary’s house felt like the longest walk of my life. I was still reeling. None of it had sunk in.

I rang the doorbell. My damp hair stuck to my head and rain spattered my face as I stood waiting for someone to answer the door. It felt as if time were standing still.

A moment later the door opened a fraction and Robbie’s face peered through the crack.

‘Hi Rob.’ I was shivering but not as a result of the cold. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Only if you promise not to start an argument.’

‘I promise. I just really need to talk to you and your sister. Is she around?’

‘She’s upstairs.’ Robbie opened the door a little more. ‘Are you all right?’ he looked at me strangely.

‘I just really need to come in and talk to you both. Please?’

‘OK.’ He stepped back into the hallway and let me pass.

‘Thanks.’ I shook the rain off my head and led the way into the lounge.

Mary had made a lovely home for her family. It had a warm and welcoming feel about it.

‘I’ll just get Sue-Ann.’ Robbie left me standing alone. I didn’t know whether to sit or stand. My mind was struggling to make even the most basic decisions.

Moments later Sue-Ann and Robbie appeared huddled together.

‘Hi.’ I did my best to smile at them.

‘We’re not coming home.’ Sue-Ann frowned.

‘No. I know. That’s not why I’m here. Please will you both sit down, I need to tell you something.’

Robbie and Sue-Ann looked at each other for a moment before agreeing to my request. They perched side by side on the sofa looking up at me. I lingered near the gas fire trying to find the right words.

‘It’s your dad,’ Sue-Ann immediately rolled her eyes and looked bored and the rage I’d felt on the day I had slapped her came flooding back. Taking a deep breath, I calmed myself before continuing. ‘I’ve got some bad news kids.’

Robbie looked worried.

‘I just found out myself, the police came and told me,’ I couldn’t find the courage to say the words he’s dead.

‘Told you what?’ Robbie’s concern was palpable.

‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ the swell of emotion hit me like a punch to the head. ‘He died.’

My two eldest children sat perfectly still looking at me. Neither blinked. I stayed quiet for a moment to allow it to sink in. Neither said a word.

‘I am so sorry. It seems he killed himself.’ I swallowed hard. Still not a word from either of them. ‘It’s a lot to take in. I know.’ I bent down on my heels so that we were on the same eye level and reached out a hand to rest on Robbie’s knee. ‘It’s a huge shock.’

‘I’m going to get a glass of water.’ Sue-Ann stood up and walked out of the room. Robbie remained sitting on the couch frozen still staring at me with wide eyes. I went and sat next to him and put my arm around his shoulder. His body felt tense.

‘Dad.’ Robbie spoke in a half-whisper.

‘I know,’ I cradled his head in my arms.

The few weeks leading up to Larry’s funeral were hell. I had lost my husband and my kids had lost their dad. The press shamelessly celebrated his suicide. ‘One less monster in the world’ a headline read. He was called a coward and every other name under the sun. I wanted to scream from the rooftops that that wasn’t my Larry, they’d got it all wrong but I couldn’t. It wouldn’t have helped. I had to look after the kids and try and keep us out of the news. Journalists swarmed like flies around Alpha Terrace again.

To begin with I was heartbroken and I was angry. I couldn’t believe Larry had left me. But the day after his body was discovered the prison recovered a letter he had slipped into a book. It was addressed to me.

Darling Dee,

I am sorry I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye but it is better this way. I’m not built for prison. My life should be with you and the kids but now that has gone. I don’t want to stick around.

As long as I am still breathing you will never be able to escape the past.

I’ve loved you ever since I first saw you sitting on that park bench. You are everything to me and I am going to die happy in the knowledge that you can now move on and be free.

I don’t want to grow old in this place so I’ve seen to it that I never will.

Carry me in your heart always and know how much I love those eyes.

Yours,

Larry x

Someone from the prison had seen fit to make a copy. Two days later his private letter to me was on the front of every newspaper.

Sue-Ann refused to talk to me and said she didn’t want to go to the funeral. Robbie stopped talking all together and went into himself. They both remained living with Mary.

Owen and I did our best to carry on. It was strange being back at the house knowing that our family would never be together again.

The only person in the whole world who came to see us and shared our sorrow was Eric, Larry’s brother. He showed up on the doorstep one day carrying four cans of paint.

‘I thought you might want to redecorate.’ He stood awkwardly on the street unable to look me in the eye.

‘That’s a good idea.’ I took one of the pots of paint and let him into the house.

We sat silently at the kitchen table both sipping our tea.

‘He loved you, you know?’ Eric cupped his mug in his hands and looked pensive.

‘I know he did. And I loved him. Even after everything.’ My words tailed off.

‘If you need help organising the funeral…’

‘It will be a small do.’

Eric nodded.

‘Sue-Ann doesn’t want to come.’

‘You can’t really blame her. The kid must be in such a mess. I thought I knew him, you know? He was my brother and I really thought I knew him.’ Tears gathered in the corner of his eyes and for a moment he looked like Larry. A shiver ran down my spine.

‘He was a good man. He did some bad things, made some wrong choices but he was a good man. Never lose sight of that.’ I reached over and squeezed his hand.

‘I’m meant to be the one consoling you.’ Eric sniffed.

‘We can be strong for each other.’ I smiled at him fondly.

‘So, are you going to stay here?’ He looked around the kitchen.

‘No choice. And this is where we were happy. If I leave it’s like I’ve lost my last link to him. I’m not ready to give that up yet.’

‘I think I understand.’ Eric took a mouthful of hot tea. ‘But remember I want you to come to me for anything you need. Funerals are expensive. Let me help you out.’

‘You’re a kind man, Eric. Just like your brother.’

He smiled, finished his tea and got up.

‘Well, better get going. Hope the paint helps.’

‘I’ll let you know when I have a date for the funeral.’ I got up and stretched my arms before giving him a hug. ‘Thanks for everything.’ It was the first time I had shared an intimate moment with a man in such a long time and it felt strangely good.

‘Mum and Dad aren’t coming.’

‘Oh.’ The crematorium was going to be bare.

‘They can’t face it.’ He looked awkward.

‘I don’t blame them. Bloody press round every corner. Why can’t they just leave us alone.’

‘Mum’s in bits. Has been ever since, well, you know.’

‘Yes. I know.’

When Eric left I took a moment to myself and thought about the days ahead. In a way I was pleased I wouldn’t have to face Larry’s aging parents. I could barely cope with my own grief let alone theirs. No doubt his mother was feeling dreadful. Not only had her son been labelled a murderer but also then she had to come to terms with his suicide. It was all so dirty.

I tried to imagine how she must have felt. It was impossible to envisage Robbie or Owen in prison for killing anyone, let alone having to face burying either of them. I shuddered and went back to sorting out the piles of Larry’s belongings on the floor of the sitting room.

On that morning, after I’d put on my black dress and ironed Owen’s little white shirt, I sat alone at the kitchen table watching the hands of the clock. In less than one hour I would be at the crematorium watching my husband’s body disappear forever. It was so surreal. Owen was in his bedroom reading a book. Earlier I’d taken him some toast and told him to stay up there until it was time to go. I couldn’t face him. His little face looked so sad and lost.

Under normal circumstances he and I would have followed the hearse to the cemetery but we were not dealing with normal circumstance. The undertaker, who was very polite and respectful, suggested that they take the coffin directly to the crematorium and that we meet them there. I thanked him for making the suggestion and agreed without hesitation. He assured me that the details of the funeral would remain private and that nobody who worked for his family business would be speaking to the press.

Two days earlier I had visited Larry’s body at the undertakers. I’d already chosen a coffin for him and he was laid out in it, looking peaceful. At my request, Mr Armstrong the undertaker left me alone with him for a little while. I stood over his body and stroked his hair. People say that the dead look like they are sleeping. I don’t agree. He looked hollow, as if the part of him that made him who he was had left his body.

When I was sure we were alone and Mr Armstrong was not watching I removed a small wooden box with a brass lock and put it in the coffin with him.

‘Sleep tight.’ I kissed his icy forehead and left the room.

Mr Harold Armstrong was standing respectfully with his head bowed waiting for me.

‘Thank you,’ I sniffed and pulled my cardigan around my body.

‘It often helps, seeing the deceased one last time.’ He was a serious man and I found it difficult to imagine him ever smiling.

‘I put some personal belongings in with him. Please see that they remain with him until the end.’

‘You have my word.’ He nodded. I shook his hand and left. It was the last time I would ever lay eyes on my husband.

At eleven o’clock I heard a beep from the street. Our taxi had arrived. I called up the stairs to Owen and put my best winter coat on. The spring sun was shining outside but I wanted to look smart for Larry.

Owen appeared in his dark school trousers and freshly ironed shirt. He’d even put a bit of gel in his hair.

‘Very smart,’ I told him fixing his tie. ‘Your dad would have been proud.’

Owen swallowed back tears and held my hand. Together we stepped out into the warm sunshine and got into the silver Vauxhall that was waiting for us.

I was pleasantly surprised to find a taxi that would collect us from there. The Asian taxi driver eyed me in the rear view mirror. I knew what he was thinking. Everyone in England knew our address.

‘Crematorium?’ He flicked on the meter, his dark eyes fixing me.

‘Yes.’

The car did a rather awkward three-point turn before setting off towards the cemetery. Owen sat silently staring out of the window. I wanted to hug him but feared I might burst into tears if I did.

Just under fifteen minutes later the car pulled into the driveway. The car park was quiet. We were the only car in it. We’d arrived half an hour before the cremation was due to take place but I thought it would be good to wander around the grounds for a while before going into the chapel.

I paid the driver and we got out of the car. The sun was warm on the top of my head and I felt hot in my coat. The diamanté brooch I was wearing glittered proudly in the sunlight and I adjusted it to make sure it was straight.

‘Come on, let’s go for a wander.’ I took Owen’s hand in mine and led him towards the grounds. Memories of my father’s funeral, which had taken place in the same crematorium, came flooding back. At the time, I thought my father’s funeral was a small tragic affair. But this was going to be something altogether different.

We walked amongst the trees, over a carpet of anemones, looking at the plaques of remembrance.

‘Why do people have to die?’ Owen stopped walking and looked up at me.

‘It’s just the way it is. Nothing lives forever.’

‘Is Dad in heaven?’ His expression was so hopeful.

‘I’m sure he is.’ It wasn’t a good time to question the validity of religion.

‘So I can see him again when I go to heaven?’

‘Yes. But that won’t be for a very long time.’ I didn’t mean it the way it sounded and Owen looked sad. ‘I just mean that you have got a long life ahead of you. But Dad will always be there as long as you remember him.’

Owen nodded and we continued walking.

‘Was Dad a bad man?’ I could tell he was terrified of the answer.

‘Well, some people are going to think that. Some people might even tell you that your dad was bad, but they didn’t know him, did they. It’s not about what they say. It’s about the truth. What do you think? Do you think he was bad?’ I held my breath waiting for the answer. This was the first time we had discussed the situation properly. He was still too young to really understand.

‘I don’t think he was bad.’ Owen frowned.

‘Good. Neither do I. He made some bad decisions, that’s all.’ Not wanting to talk about it any more I looked at my wristwatch and suggested we head back towards the chapel. ‘Uncle Eric will be here soon.’

As we approached the door that led into the chapel a black hearse pulled up outside. The funeral director stepped out and instructed his people to carry the coffin inside.