After Forever Ends (68 page)

Oliver woke up and rolled out of bed and on to his feet. “What the hell? “ He rubbed his head, “Is somebody here?“ The pounding came again. Both of us hurried to the door to find his brother and Lucy huddled together under an umbrella to protect them from the storm. “Are you mad?” Oliver demanded, hurrying them into the house, “Get in here!”

“The door was locked!” Alexander shook his head as if to free an ear of water

“Really?” Ollie was surprised. We never locked our door.

They peeled off their dripping coats. They were both still in their pyjamas “Silvia!” Lucy hugged me, “Alexander had a dream!”

“What?” Oliver took a bag from Alex and set it on the floor.

She and Alex looked at each other. “OK, OK, let me explain,” Alex was grinning excitedly, “You know how you and I were so upset that we didn’t get to say good bye properly to Mum, Ollie?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I’ve been having this feeling that she’s around, yeah? Ever since she died, really, and I’ve been chatting with her. I told her that if there’s anything she wants us to do she should let us know.”

“So tonight he went to bed early because he was so damned sad,” Lucy interrupted She put her hand lovingly against his cheek, “And he woke up about an hour later and he tells me, ‘It’s in the cupboard behind the bloody cache pot!’ I had no idea what he was talking about, but he said it again, ‘It’s behind the bloody cache pot!’ and he jumped up and ran out of the house!”

“What are you talking about?” I couldn’t help but laugh at them. They seemed so excited and were making no sense at all.

“I went over to Dad’s in my bloomin’ flannels and tore into his pantry. He didn‘t wake up, thank God, because he would have thought I was mental! I pulled out that old cache pot mum had in there and behind it was Grandmum’s recipe book!”

“The one Mummy has been looking for since Grandmum died?” I asked.

“The very one!” Alexander literally jumped in place, “See, in my dream I was sitting here on the sofa-like,” He motioned to the front room, “And you,” He was looking at his brother, “And Silvia were in the kitchen. I could hear you talking. Well, through the front door comes Mum…and I mean, through the front door, she floated right through it. And she’s all smiling and looking really young and pretty and she says, ‘Xander, I found the book! It’s behind the bloody cache pot! Must have fallen, yeah?’ and then she sits beside me and pats me on the hand and she says, ‘Go get it and get over to your brother’s! Don’t mind the rain! Make what’s on page twenty-seven. Silvia has everything you need. It’ll bring back memories you’ve forgotten!’” Tears were welling in Alexander’s eyes, “And then she tells me she loves me and Lucy and asks me to tell you two that she loves you both and that she’s so proud of us all. And then she says to me, ‘I really have to go, Xan. Don’t miss me because I’m not far. Tell Oliver and Eddie you’ll all see me again in time’. And then I woke up.”

“Well, what the hell’s on page twenty-seven?” Oliver demanded with a good natured grin. He took the whole story in stride without even a question. Then again, he’d been speaking to elves since he was a child, why would it seem so out of the realm of possibility that his mother could have visited his brother in a dream?

“Let’s find out!” Lucy hugged the book to her chest, “Come on, Silvia! Let’s go cook!”

It was a simple bread. Flour, butter, eggs, sugar, brown sugar, baking soda, milk, a little nutmeg, and vanilla. We baked it for a little less than an hour and pulled it out.

“It smells good,” I held my nose over the pan.

“It says to butter it and serve it hot,” Lucy glanced over the recipe one last time. “Mummy scribbled a note.”

We sliced it and served it to the twins.

“I remember this!” Alexander said through a full mouth, “She used to make it after mass on Sundays! Before they sent us to Bennington!”

“We’d have it with chamomile tea and orange slices,” Oliver covered his face with his hands. “This is what it tastes like to be seven years old, Alex!”

“It was our favourite! Bake the bread, Mummy! We’d beg for it. And she would, she always would!” Alex wiped his eyes, “God, our mother loved us! She loved us so bleedin‘ much!”

“Ah, Mum!” Oliver sniffed, “God bless you! I was missing you, but here you are now! Thank you, Mum!”

“Yes, thank you, Mum,” Alexander smiled, savouring his slice of bread. He squeezed Oliver‘s shoulder, “Thank you for page twenty-seven!”

I must have made that bread a hundred times after that night. They never told me more of what memories it brought back, but it made them both extremely happy every time. It was the taste that made them remember how much their mother loved them. It was an honour for me to carry on the tradition of baking it for Ana. She had been the only mum I had ever known as well.

Edmond lived quietly for another year and then he crossed the veil himself. It was odd how he left us. He complained of chest discomfort and the twins took him into hospital where he was admitted for observation.

“I love my children,” He told his sons as they left, “And I love my grandchildren. All the work I did in my life was to preserve history and all along my greatest contribution to it was my family. I am so proud of all of you, but especially of my two boys.” Oliver said he gave them both a long embrace and kissed them on their heads before he crawled into his bed and sat there smiling. “Everyone will be just fine,” He told them, “Don’t you worry about that.”

They both got phone calls at about five the next morning telling them that he had passed away in his sleep. There was no clear medical reason they could find right away, he’d just gone. We all knew in our hearts he was happy to move on. He had loved his wife and living without her had been a long and lonely struggle. Ed left his estate to his sons and a portion of money to all the grandchildren and great grandchildren, but bequeathed his grand piano and all of his musical collections to his grandson, Warren.

“Blimey,” Warren sighed as he stood in the front room of his grandparent’s home with Alexander, Oliver and me. He ran his hand through his thick brownish red hair, “I’m sure glad you guys are letting me move into this house now that I’ve come home. I’d hate to have to move this piano to a fifth floor flat in Newtown.”

“No shite!” Alexander whistled.

By the age Oliver and I were, it came as no surprise that our children should be getting married and our parents should be leaving us, but we still considered ourselves young. We were fit and active and ready to take on the world more than ever. We had our same energy and with it we had wisdom as well. We thought it was time to start masterminding a plan to conquer the universe, but we were too busy laughing at each other to focus.

Taking this into consideration, it was no great surprise that we got the wind knocked right out of our sails when a year later we got word from Merlyn that Lance had died quietly at his home after a long illness.

“What?” Oliver’s face went crimson. He turned with the phone in his hand and stared at me with a look that sent a sickening bolt of electricity straight through me, “When did this happen? Wait a minute! I just spoke to him! Did you know? Why didn’t he tell anybody? Oh, sweet Jesus. Poor Lance…I can’t bloody believe it. Did you call Alexander?”

When he hung up the phone, he turned to me. “Silvia, Lance has died,” He told me softly, “Pancreatic cancer, Merlyn tells me,” He shook his head, “Come here, I need you.”

I held him tight for what seemed an hour.

“I need to call Alexander,” Oliver mumbled, moving away from me. He looked at me for a moment, “It’s OK if you cry now, Love.”

I took his permission. I sat on the floor in the front room and I sobbed.

Oliver called Alex. I only heard the tail end of the conversation, “No, I guess he’d been sick a good while. Alex, are you telling me he had cancer before? I never knew that. He didn’t tell me. Well, certainly cancer can reoccur. Why are you asking me? I don’t give a fuck if I’m a doctor! He never told me anything about being ill! I don’t know the details! He told Merlyn a few weeks ago! Fucking phone Merlyn up then! Maybe he knows!” He took a deep breath, “I’m sorry. This is just so wrong. Yeah, well, I want to puke. Ok, Brawd. Ring me then. Oy, Alexander? I love you.”

He hung up the phone and wandered out into the garden. I watched him walk around mumbling at the trees and then he sat on the edge of the hill and hung his head in his hands.

I went out after a while and put my arms around him. “When you’re ready, Sweetheart.”

He patted my hand and stared up at the sky. “Do you need me?”

“No, Sweetie. I’m all right.”

He nodded.

Oliver did nothing for hours. I let him be. Sometimes it was best to just let Oliver alone when he was upset and allow him come to me when he was ready to talk.

He came in for dinner, but he wasn’t eating. Neither of us were. “I just spoke with Lance two weeks ago,” He said softly. “He never told me he was ill. His funeral’s the day after tomorrow. Alex and Lucy’ll ride with us to Caernarfon to pay our respects.”

“Of course.”

It didn’t seem real to me at all that one of
us
could have died. Not one of
us
Bennington kids. It didn’t sink in that any of it was actually true and not some horrible dream until we got to the church where Lance’s memorial service was being held.

It was very hard to take. There were dozens of people wandering about that none of us knew. They looked at us oddly. It seemed like they should be the ones out of place, not us. I caught myself looking for Lance in the crowd, as if I would see the top of his head cutting a path around the shoulders of everyone else and hear him call, “Silvia! How are you, Dear?” It was at that moment I caught sight of the coffin and him in it.

He looked so tiny lying there, like a child’s body with an old man’s face. Even with the work they’d done on him it was easy to see he’d suffered. His dirty blond hair had fallen out and the patches that were left had turned dark grey. He had deep set circles under his eyes. His once pudgy face was drawn, painted the wrong shade of peach and his teeth looked too large beneath his lips. He didn’t look like the Lance I’d known in life.

“Oh, my,” Lucy whispered what I was thinking, “Is that him?”

“It is,” Alexander’s voice was barely audible. He walked to his old mate and covered his frozen hands with his own. “Ah, Christ! Lance!”

“I can’t stand this,” Oliver looked away from the casket.

I took his hand. “I know, Sweetheart. None of us can. I can’t either.” My eyes stung with tears. I looked away and across the room, but I could not stop them from falling.

“I can’t look at him,” Oliver swallowed, “He looks so…so small.”

“He wasn’t very big, Oliver.”

My husband looked at me. His beautiful brown eyes glowed with tears, “He wasn’t small to me, Sil. To me he was always very big. He was always very, very big.”

Alexander embraced his brother, “This is rough, Boyo.”

“He looks so tiny. As if he was helpless all his life. Lance was not helpless. He was strong. He was…” My husband trailed off. He clutched his brother’s shoulders. His eyes were wide, almost wild, “This is Lancelot, Alexander! This is Lance Crosby! Lance Crosby can’t be dead! It isn’t right!”

Alex held tight to his brother, “But he is,” He whispered, a single teardrop fell from his eye. It clung to the dimple in his chin, “I wish he wasn’t, but he is. And, no, it isn’t right. There isn’t anything right about it. I hate this!” He hissed, “I fucking hate this!”

It was then that Lucy spotted Merlyn Pierce, who was standing against a far wall. We were all grateful to have a reason to walk away.

“How are you?” Merlyn hugged each of us in turn. We answered in generic terms, “You OK, Mate?” He directed the question to Oliver, who shrugged and looked at his feet.

“Just trying desperately not to snivel,” He didn’t look up. He tightened his face into a frown and closed his eyes, pinching back his tears.

The conversation ended quickly. People were gathering to listen to each other speak tributes to Lance. Alexander, Oliver, Lucy and I took seats in the second row of chairs with Merlyn and Penny behind us. Oliver held my hand as people clamoured up to speak of our old school chum. I knew my husband was thinking about anything he could instead of how his best friend’s body was lying in a casket not even thirty feet away. He stared at a beautiful spray of roses that Sandy had sent. They were yellow, pink, orange and blue. Happy colours that matched the ones Lance wore in his favourite scarf, the one we’d see him in every chance it was cold enough to wear it. I knew Sandy had done that on purpose. She had always been so thoughtful.

“…and I know my dad had loads of buds, too,” His daughter sniffed from the podium, “And some of his buds he’d kept since he was eleven years old. He told me a story about when his mum first brought him to Bennington, the school I attend now. He said he was afraid because he knew he would be smaller than the other boys and someone was bound to pick on him. And he was picked on, on his second day by an older boy. He said this boy was monstrous, had him by the jacket and he didn’t know what he was planning to do. But a set of twins came along and they started telling the boy off. This bully tried to hit one of them, but the other one jumped up on to his back. He held the boy down while the other twin pulled the boy’s pants so far up his bum that he cried. Daddy said he was never afraid again after that because he was never alone.”

I watched the memory of that wash over Oliver and Alexander. They exchanged bittersweet smiles. Merlyn put a hand on each of their backs. I hadn’t known that story, but it didn’t surprise me that it had happened.

When his daughter was done speaking, his wife asked if there was anything anyone else wanted to say. Alexander looked at Oliver, but Oliver immediately choked up and shook his head. “I can’t,” He said in a harsh whisper, “You do it.”

“I’d like to say something,” Alex called out.

“Please do!” Lance’s wife, Daneen, smiled sincerely, “Hello! Thank you so much for coming! Are you Alexander or Oliver? I can never tell.”

“I’m Oliver.” He waited a second, “Just joking. I am Alex.”