Flowers for the Dead (15 page)

“At first I was very happy. Cooking, cleaning, making a home were all novelties to me. I became lonely though – Jasper was only home at weekends, spending weekdays at his apartment in London in order to work on the stock exchange.

“I dreamed of filling the house with children, and assumed it was what my husband wanted too. We tried for years but nothing happened. We thought it was my age.”

Adam frowned, trying to guess where the story was going. He had a bad feeling he knew.

“When I was forty the impossible happened. I fell pregnant with your father. You can’t imagine how happy I was! Jasper worked even harder to bring money in, even though we didn’t really need it – goodness knows between us we had more than enough.

“I went into labour and was admitted to hospital. I was considered a very unusual case then, thought of as incredibly old for childbirth, although now it seems perfectly commonplace.

“The second I saw Graeme, I fell in love. I couldn’t wait for Jasper to come. But he kept making excuses about work. Finally, after five days, I was starting to become really anxious. Graeme and I were due to be discharged that day, you see, and I didn’t want to go home alone.”

Ada paused for a moment, catching her breath. All this talk must be exhausting for her but she seemed determined to get to the end.

“Jasper finally turned up at the hospital, and I proudly showed off our son. He barely looked at Graeme. He could hardly look at me. He stared at part of the pillow to the left of me as he told me he didn’t want a family, and that he was leaving us to set up home with his secretary. His secretary! Such a tired old cliché.”

For the first time in his life, Adam saw his gran’s mouth twist in momentary bitterness before she recovered herself.

“No class,” she added dismissively. “When he told me, I didn’t cry. I just told him to leave and never to have anything to do with his son or me again. A lady always copes under pressure, Adam.”

Silent seconds passed. “The point is, I think your father allowed himself to get trapped by Sara because he wanted to ensure he was nothing like his own father. But I know that never would have happened. I will never, ever regret his liaison with your mother because it resulted in you, but I wish he had realised he could still be a good father without tying himself to her.”

Adam did not know what to think. Maybe life would have been better if his father had not stayed with Sara, because then he could have been raised by his gran instead. Or maybe he would have been left to Sara’s evil ministrations even more.

Ada didn’t notice his doubt though. “I know Daddy can sometimes be a little bit distant, and I think that’s why: he finds it hard to show his love because perhaps he feels as if he was rejected as a child. But he loves you to the moon and back, you must believe that, even though he has trouble showing it.”

She looked at her grandson with sad, rheumy eyes that clearly expected judgement and rejection. “What do you think of your old gran now, eh? Do you hate me for lying?”

“You didn’t need to lie to me,” he replied honestly. “I love you, Gran. I can’t believe you were treated so badly.”

The more he thought about it the angrier he became. His poor gran, taken advantage of, then abandoned like that. His hands curled up tight. Gran saw.

“Things worked out for the best. I loved your father enough for two parents.”

Perhaps. But if someone had looked after his gran, then perhaps Sara would never have come into his father’s life. Perhaps Adam would never have been born. How he wished that had been the case.

The following morning, as Adam approached his gran’s bedroom he could hear groaning. He dropped the tray he was carrying and ran into her room without knocking, to find her writhing on the bed, clutching the sheets.

“Gran! What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

She turned her face to him. It was streaked with tears and sweat. Eyes wild with pain sought him out.

“I-I’m so sorry,” she gasped. “You shouldn’t see me like this. I thought it would be faster. I thought it would be peaceful.”

Another spasm of pain had her coiling in on herself. Her tiny body seemed to have no control any more.

“I’m calling an ambulance,” Adam said firmly.

“No!” Ada’s hand shot out and grabbed him, her nails digging in. Where she had found the strength from for such a grip he could not guess. She panted the word again, a husky wheeze.

“I’m dying, Adam. I have bowel cancer; doctors diagnosed me weeks ago. I…well, embarrassment had stopped me consulting a doctor until it was too late… I’m riddled with it, Adam, it’s spread to every bit of my body, even my brain. There’s nothing that can be done, so I want to die here, at home. You call an ambulance and they’ll take me to hospital. I won’t have it.”

Adam’s face crumpled as devastation hit. Ada’s grip loosened and her hand fell back among the dishevelled sheets.

“C-call an ambulance. Then call your parents,” she said weakly.

But Adam did not move, merely stared at her. Finally he spoke. “You don’t want anyone to know? You want to die here, just me and you?”

“It was a silly wish. It’s too much for you.”

“No, no, I can do it.”

Determination was etched in his young face. She protested, of course, but now Adam knew her dearest wish he would move heaven and earth to make it happen. He sat on the side of her bed, and took her hand.

“I won’t leave you, Gran. I’ll look after you here, don’t worry.”

Now that he knew what was wrong, he started searching the internet trying to find information on how he could ease his gran’s pain. All he discovered was that what she was feeling was horrific. It was incredible the strength she had shown by hiding it for so long.

He did read that marijuana might possibly help, so that night, while Ada slept fitfully, he slipped out to buy some. But he didn’t even know where to start. Adam was not the streetwise type, looked so on edge that no one approached him to offer anything, and he had no clue who to ask. He came home empty-handed and deeply frustrated, and slipped into Gran’s room, listening to her laboured breathing.

Seeing the person he loved suffering such agony tore something in Adam. He wanted her pain to stop, her misery to end. It was so unfair! He watched his shaking hands reach out and grab a pillow, as if they belonged to someone else. Looking down at Gran’s face, skeletal, etched with pain, he knew what he had to do.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

~ Pink Carnation ~

I Will Never Forget You

It would be simple enough. A quick, clean death to end her suffering. Just push the pillow over her face to suffocate her. His fingers flexed around the pillow.

No! He threw it across the room, and ran, sobbing.

Stupid, useless boy. You can’t even help your own gran. Pathetic.
He could hear Sara spitting her venom at him as if she stood right in front of him.

You’re a bad boy.

Those were the words echoing round his head when exhaustion finally allowed him to fall asleep, curled up tight, trying to shut them out.

By morning Ada seemed brighter. 

“I feel all right, I just can’t move,” she said, almost sounding like her old self. She laughed at her helplessness. “I can’t lift my own body up; not even an arm.”

She couldn’t eat at all that day. Couldn’t even drink her soothing peppermint tea. Slowly she lost the strength to speak. Instead, Adam read to her. Fairy tale after fairy tale was told until Adam’s own voice was weak, his throat hurting. But still he read aloud, the words as much a comfort to him as her.

Finally, his voice gave out. They sat quietly, side by side, Ada’s hand in Adam’s. He could hear her chest wheezing with every breath. It was all he could concentrate on, as if he could keep it going by sheer force of will – or maybe stop it, he was not sure which he wanted more.

In, out, in, out, in…

It was more erratic now. More painful to listen to. She was grey, sweaty, no longer the elegant lady she had always been.

“Please let her pain stop,” he begged silently. “Please.”

In…out…in…out…

He waited. Held his own breath.

…in…
A groan of exhalation…

It was over. Good. He was glad her suffering had ended. She had deserved a quick, merciful death, and instead it had been slow and agonizing. Her body looked so different now. She clearly was not asleep; there was something indefinable missing now, the spark of life extinguished. Sometimes, just like the magic of the fairy tales he had read to her, he could see sparkles around his gran; it was the light of her goodness, he had decided. They were no longer in evidence though.

He felt oddly calm and flat, as though he had been squashed down from three-dimensional to one-dimension. He ought to be crying, but the tears would not come. He could not let them because once he let a few leak out he knew he would not have the strength to stop the rest. Why couldn’t he have saved her? Why couldn’t he have helped her?

Despair washed over him, quickly followed by anger, devastation, fear, too many things for him to process. He stumbled from the room and ran. He didn’t know where he was going, he just had to run. Found himself falling to his knees in the soft, freshly dug earth of the flowerbeds, feverishly plucking up flowers. He would make a bouquet, an homage of love.

Queen Anne’s Lace symbolized a haven; he snatched it up. Blue hyacinth for constancy, purple for sorrow; gladioli for strength of character, faithfulness and honour; purple iris for wisdom. More and more flowers from the beds and greenhouses were gathered as Adam tried to re-create his gran’s incredible character. Lily, snapdragon…

But nestled in amongst them, one choice stood out. Anemone. “I have been forsaken,” it accused.

Once the bouquet was finished, he laid his gran out peacefully, closing her eyes and folding her arms, putting the flowers on her chest. Only then did he call his mother with the news.

***

PRESENT

The best thing in the world is watching Laura sleep. It is best of all in the flesh. She looks relaxed in a way he never sees when she is awake. Her blaze of red hair spreads like fire across the pillow, her pale skin given a rose glow in the warmth of her duvet. The infrared camera cannot do justice to that. The microphones are not sensitive enough to pick up her gentle breathing. So as often as possible he likes to let himself into her flat and watch in person, matching his own breathing with hers to enhance the feeling that they are one.

He watches her sleep, like Edward Cullen does to Bella in
Twilight
; like the handsome prince does to Snow White before waking her with true love’s kiss. Adam loves with the same fierce pride and purity. Laura is one lucky lady – but she is totally worth it, deserves everything he has in store for her.

It is hard for him to have to leave her before she wakes, but he has made that mistake with other women and it did not end well. This time he is determined to get things right, so he always makes sure that he is gone by five am, walks in the early morning frost to wherever he has parked his car, which is always at least a few streets away. There he sits and watches her slowly wake on screen instead of in the flesh.

Sometimes when she is out he returns to her place to give it a quick dust, plump the cushions, and pull back into place the rug, which has a nasty habit of ‘walking’. He likes to help out, but does not want to do too much too soon, because he knows women often do not like to be overwhelmed by a man. A gentleman is willing to take things slowly.

Today he cannot help noticing she is getting low on milk though. What is left in the fridge will not be enough for her cereal in the morning, and knowing Laura she won’t remember to buy any while she is at work. So Adam pulls on his coat to protect himself from the late-November nip in the air, and drives to the shop for milk, going to the huge Sainsbury on the edge of town rather than the corner shop because he does not want people to start recognising him in the area.

The icy rain that had been hammering down earlier has cleared up. What’s more, the sun has come out and it is suddenly so much milder. Adam pulls off his hat, and as he glances across the bank of grass beside the supermarket’s car park, he sees the sunshine has brought out some late midges, dancing in the patches of sunlight between the shadows of trees. Some of those trees still have leaves, now yellow and orange, but as the sun hits they light up like twenty-two carat gold.

The world is beautiful, he feels good, and he is looking after the woman he loves. He could ask for little more. Except…when he returns to the flat, he sits on the bed and feels rather forlorn. He is suddenly lonely. He misses Laura.

On a whim, he decides to go to her workplace.

Laura is working in the café section of the bakery today. She is on the till, and is having a giggle with a gangly woman of about the same age. Everything about this young woman seems to have been extended, including her neck, which she has a habit of stretching up further, giving everyone a magnificent view up her large nostrils. Her saving graces are her softly curling hair, which is a glossy chestnut colour, and her kind brown eyes. According to her name badge, she is Charlotte Cooper, waitress.

She and Laura can barely look at each other without snickering. An elderly woman’s mobile phone keeps ringing and cutting out, and the young women are almost helpless as they try to stifle their laughter at her.

“Hello? There must be something wrong with this phone, it’s on silent,” the pensioner shouts down the line.

“What? You’re coming here? Hang on…” The woman grabs the menu, holds it at arm’s length and starts reading it in her incredibly loud voice. To make it worse, she mispronounces half the things. “Omerlette. Tangenie… Don't know, something to do with lamb. It’s funny stuff, fancy names,” she adds.

The whole café is giving the woman sidelong looks but she carries on regardless. Laura and Charlotte exchange glances. Laura has to duck down behind the counter, grinning. It is a good minute before she pops back up.

Adam watches all of this as he listens to the woman too. He has his hands wrapped around his ice-cold glass of Sprite to counteract the nervous sweat he almost always gets when he is in a public place. His hands are getting wet from the condensation from his glass, the drink glowing with the sunlight streaming through the window near him. But for once he does not feel stressed: he looks at Laura and finds himself chuckling under his breath too. That is how good this young woman is for him.

It is a mild relief for him and other patrons though when the elderly woman leaves the building, having decided that the likes of lamb tagine are too exotic for her. Adam relaxes further and instead listens in to a gentler conversation near him.

“Thing is, I knew he was living with his ex-fiancée when I got with him,” one lady admits. Her friend makes a surprised
umm
of agreement.

“But then he moved in with me instead. But then there was all that stuff on Facebook and…well, when I confronted him he went funny and said that things were moving too fast. I said ‘moving too fast after eleven months? Just pack your things and get out, you might as well.’ So that’s what he did.”

“And moved in with his ex-fiancée again?”

“No surprise there, eh?”

Adam likes the sound; it is like white noise, comforting him. The words don’t matter, they are nonsense, it is only the sound. Talk of break ups does pique his interest though. He looks around, pretending to try to see where the toilets are, but in reality he is sneaking a peek at the ladies.

They are both fat, he is disappointed to see. Frumpy, mumsy, and one of them is committing the cardinal sin of wearing that weird coral colour that does not suit anyone.

It is as well these women are not his type, really: he is currently in love, he reminds himself. Laura is perfect, a princess he can put at the top of an ivory tower and adore.

While the two plump ladies compare relationship woes, Adam lets the sound wash over him and watches Laura move round the tables, wiping them down. The way her hips sway as she slaloms between the tables, the ready laugh she has, her confident ease at banter with the customers. All tension fades as he looks at her, a soft smile on his lips.

Laura clears a table beside the two ladies, and as she stacks up plates one of them looks at her.

“Men, eh?” the woman tuts. “Can’t live with them, can’t get away with killing them.”

“There are three people in life,” Laura replies. “The ones who help you through hard times, the ones who leave you during hard times, and the ones who put you there in the first place. Only bother with the first, forget the rest and move on. I read that somewhere, but it’s good advice.”

All three women nod their heads sagely, then Laura scurries off, hands full of dirty plates. Adam is in awe – that is the sort of advice his gran would have given. Laura is everything he could ever want: beautiful, intelligent, wise.

He is dreading having to go back to Birmingham tonight, but he must tend to his garden and take care of a few things. Absence makes the heart grow fonder though, and he is sure Laura will miss him as much as he will miss her. He must make the most of the time he has left with her, so orders another cold drink and settles back to watch her while conversation surrounds him.

***

SIXTEEN YEARS AGO

The sun had brought everyone out in droves and was now making its slow journey towards the horizon. Those lucky enough to have had the day to themselves were still hanging back, loath to be back inside yet. Workers who had spent the day casting envious glances outside from their windows had scurried home, thrown off their sweaty, stiff clothing and chucked on something skimpier to show off their pallid limbs, before rushing outside to catch the last of the summer day.

Lisa Brookman had been inside most of the day helping her parents at the corner shop they owned, and when she was finally free she had quickly flung off her shapeless polyester uniform and pulled on shorts and a t-shirt. The sixteen-year-old grabbed her bicycle, hesitating only to look woefully at the safety helmet before cramming it down over her waist-length blonde hair, which she tied back in a low ponytail. She hardly ever used her bike so she was not confident enough to risk not wearing it, despite the fantasy that played over and over tantalisingly in her mind of riding along and feeling a refreshing breeze rippling through her hair.

Within fifteen minutes the teen had reached her destination. The bike wobbled slightly beneath her as it hit a hummock in the grass but she quickly brought it under control as she gazed around happily at the grassy field she was riding across. Here was short grass cut to create pathways for bikers and dog walkers, there was long meadow grass left to its own devices until later in the year when it would finally be cut and managed. In the towering, shoulder-height blades danced tiny orange butterflies that looked like rays of sunshine sparkling on water.  Lisa could not keep the satisfied smile from her face, feeling as though somehow the sun was in her too, carried at her solar plexus, warming her and bursting forth in happiness. What a beautiful day!

Coming to a stop, she hopped awkwardly off the bike, not having perfected the elegant swoop of the leg that more practiced cyclists had. Abandoning her cycle by the side of the path, she plonked herself down and let the sun warm and relax her as she looked around.

An elderly man wandered past with an even older dog waddling arthritically behind him.

“Lovely day,” he smiled.

‘Gorgeous!’ she grinned back. Lisa didn’t much like chitchat with strangers but today she was so happy that she responded in kind rather than with her usual suspicion.