Page 92 of The Impossible Fortune
‘You still must say them though,’ says Bogdan.
‘I suppose so,’ says Elizabeth. ‘But here’s the thing. Look at his chair.’
Bogdan peers through to Stephen’s armchair in the living room.
‘Where is he, Bogdan?’ says Elizabeth. ‘Where is Stephen?’
‘Well,’ says Bogdan. ‘I think he’s in a little pot, isn’t he, remember?’
‘Not his ashes,’ says Elizabeth. ‘I know where his ashes are. But where is Stephen? Where on earth didheget to?’
‘Maybe you would like a cup of tea?’ Bogdan suggests.
Elizabeth walks into the living room and runs her handacross the top of Stephen’s chair. ‘The world is so full of people and moments.’
Bogdan walks through to join her. ‘And trees. Lots of things.’
Elizabeth looks up at him. ‘There’s love everywhere, every day, and there’s sadness everywhere every day. Imagine all of it together. All that sadness, and all that love. Every kiss, every heartbeat, every second waiting for a lover, and every second realizing your lover won’t be coming. Can you imagine all of it?’
Bogdan looks up and to the left, really giving it a good go.
‘It’s impossible,’ says Elizabeth. ‘It’s beyond comprehension.’
Bogdan looks relieved.
‘And yet,’ says Elizabeth, ‘it’s all here in this chair. Every single bit of it, in a chair we bought in an antique shop in Stratford or somewhere or other. And Stephen swore it would fit in the back of the car, but it wouldn’t, so he lashed it to the roof. Cirencester, that was it, not Stratford. And we drove home at twenty miles an hour with Stephen’s arm out of the window holding it steady, and when we got it home it wouldn’t fit up the stairs, so someone had to come and saw the legs off –’
‘Who did you get?’ asks Bogdan.
‘I don’t remember,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Someone who’d done some work for Penny.’
Bogdan takes a very close look at the front legs of the armchair. He shakes his head. ‘They haven’t matched the grain properly. I wish I’d been here.’
‘And then we finally got it up here, and it didn’t match the curtains.’
‘No,’ says Bogdan. ‘It still doesn’t.’
‘But Stephen settled back into it and put his feet up,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Stephen and the chair. The chair and Stephen.’
‘And now just the chair,’ says Bogdan. ‘Because Stephen, you know.’
Elizabeth can’t stop a small smile. ‘You know, you don’t always have to be so literal, Bogdan, I’m trying to be poetic.’
Bogdan nods. ‘Okay.’
‘Theycan’ttell you,’ says Elizabeth. ‘That’s the thing about your own grief. No one can ever know it but you.’
‘I have some new batteries for your remote control,’ says Bogdan. ‘I noticed you need them.’
‘That’s very kind of you, Bogdan,’ says Elizabeth.
‘Batteries I can do,’ says Bogdan. ‘Words are difficult.’
‘They are,’ agrees Elizabeth. ‘You know, if you ever wanted to sit in Stephen’s chair, you could? It seems a shame for it just to be sitting there.’
‘I can’t sit in Stephen’s chair,’ says Bogdan.
‘Of course you can,’ says Elizabeth. ‘That’s what Stephen would want.’
