Page 42 of Coming Home
‘I don’t miss him anymore, you know.’ A gasp from Leonora didn’t ebb the tide. ‘And if he was here I’d want to ask him why he was so awful to Mum and Rosie. In fact, I’m starting to think this is all a bit fake and we should stop coming.’
‘Vi! What’s got into you?’ Leonora’s head nearly span off her neck.
Violetta shrugged. ‘Well, let’s face it. You never met him, Rosie can’t stand him and right at this moment in time I am running out of patience for twatty men who treat women like shit, and he was one of them.’
The jerk of her head in the direction of the grave indicated her anger that for some reason had converted into tears that were stinging her eyes, making her glad of the biting wind. She would blame that if the others noticed.
Leonora, always the peacemaker, turned to Rosina and gave her a nudge. ‘Rosie, tell her she shouldn’t feel like this,’ then looking back to Violetta, ‘you’re entitled to your own memories of him, Vi, no matter how we feel about him. Isn’t that right, Rosie?’
Rosina shrugged. ‘She’s right though. And as much as I don’t want to stand over someone’s grave and slag them off, I really don’t have anything nice to say about him so perhaps we should go and see Gran. We’ve done our duty here.’
‘I agree. Come on. Let’s go and have a chat with Sylvia. I can tell her how totally fucking shit my life is right now! Give her something to roll her eyes at.’ And with that Violetta tugged at Leonora’s arm and led the way, not giving her time to object.
The three of them traipsed through the graveyard towards where their gran lay‘as far away from that bastard as possible.’The words on her very detailed handwritten list of instructions had been carried out to the letter. All apart from playing ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ by Queen. Their mum had put her foot down about that which was a shame because the sisters had cried tears of laughter when she’d read it out.
They followed the path in silence, broken by Violetta’s phone pinging inside her pocket, a sound that she totally ignored. All Saturday she’d had texts from him. One after the other.
You’d best keep your mouth shut. One word and I’ll make sure everyone knows what you do. Imagine what the parents will say about you – schoolyard fodder. What would your daughter think? Poor little Darcy. Your mother will disown you.
In the end she’d switched her phone off and the only reason she’d turned it back on was because Darcy was at Rosina’s with her cousins. She liked to be contactable in case there was a problem so couldn’t even put the bloody thing on mute.
Violetta couldn’t wait to get to her mum’s. She’d brought Darcy’s uniform so they could stay over. Then she could sink a bottle of wine and drown her sorrows, block out the world and the vile creature who was sending the text messages.
It was Rosina’s turn to do the honours with the flowers and Violetta watched as she placed the bouquet in the vase next to the one their mum always used that was already laden with flowers. Next, Leonora stepped forward and put the poinsettia in the middle. Their gran loved them and it was a tribute from her grandchildren who had all written their name in the card that dangled from the stem. It was as Leonora took her place in the middle that Violetta noticed that Rosina was in a bad way, silently sobbing into tissue, her body literally shaking.
She and Leonora both tried to comfort their sister. Violetta took the lead. ‘Hey, Rosie, come on, stop this. Gran would go mad if she saw you in this state. What on earth is the matter?’
Still Rosina couldn’t speak so Leonora had a go, rubbing her sister’s back as she spoke words of comfort, attempting to jolly her out of it. ‘Don’t bail on us, we need you to tell us one of your funny Gran stories. I know, do the one about her pinching a pair of specs every time she went in the pound shop.’
‘Or when she took Leo to Blackpool but got on the wrong train and they ended up in Birmingham and didn’t get home till midnight because she decided to go shopping and to Wetherspoons instead.’ Violetta nodded at Leonora, giving her a cue.
‘And I cried all the way back because I’d not been to the fair or got any rock. And when the taxi dropped us off Mum went totally mental at Gran in the garden because she thought we’d been abducted and made Bern call the police, who were on their way over.’
Finally, at this, Rosina began to half laugh, half sob but at least she could speak. ‘I’m sorry for losing it, I just miss her so much and I wish she was here to help me…’
‘What do you mean, “help me”? Do you mean with the girls because you know all you have to do is ask and me or Leo will do our bit, we always have.’
‘It’s not the girls. It’s me. I’m such a mess and I can’t cope anymore and being here… it’s too much. It’s just too much.’
Leonora made the decision that was on Violetta’s tongue. ‘Okay, I think we should go home and get a warm drink and then we can talk about whatever is bothering you. Come on, let’s get you to the car, we’ll be home in two ticks. Mum will know what to do.’
When Rosina began to sob again, they could only look at each other with surprised eyes as they steered their broken sister along the path and away from the churchyard.
Rosina
Rosina sat in the back of the car as they made the short way home through the village, holding tissue over her mouth and cursing herself for losing it.
Stop it, stop it right now before you blurt it all out. Keep it together or you’ll totally ruin the day. Sort yourself out.
It had all been too much though. Starting with the events of Friday and the longest night in the history of the universe where she lay in bed, feigning illness, waiting for the police to knock on the door. She’d been convinced that someone would have seen her and reported her reg – but they hadn’t, not yet anyway.
It had been on the local news the following morning, that a man had been killed in a hit-and-run and police were asking for help with their enquiries. No name had been given but just hearing the words dripping poison from the radio brought Rosina out in a sweat that had Lou placing his palm on her forehead and suggesting she spent another day in bed. And that was exactly where she’d spent all of Saturday while the girls brought her mugs of tea and toast that she couldn’t swallow.
Every now and then Lou had popped his head in and even though she assured him it was just a bug, he looked at her with concern and her guilty conscience screamed that he didn’t believe her. He was right. She was a liar.
Sleep evaded her. It came in fits and starts and when she did nod off she was plagued by dreams, messed-up, mixed-up horror stories starring a zombie that peeled himself off the road and chased her through the woods, running, never giving up, into the garden centre, in and out of the polytunnels that sagged around her body, the plastic covering her face, suffocating her. In the end she’d gone downstairs and watched the BBC, only the BBC, because there were no adverts, no late-night temptations for poker games or betting sites. See, she could do it if she tried. There was hope.
It had only been the kids, their excitement at being allowed into the garden centre once it closed later that day, an annual tradition where they got to play in the grotto and have as many rides on the Santa Train as they liked. Then it was back to Appleton for a giant takeaway, marking one more sleep before Christmas week began. How could she let them down? And her mum wanted some time with her and her sisters, apparently she had something important to talk to them about so Rosina had to go.
