Heller's Regret (31 page)

When the doctor returned he asked us all to
leave while the nurse and he conducted the examination allowing him
to officially pronounce Dad as deceased.

We filed out to the ward hallway, not really
knowing what to do with ourselves. Sean led us to a nearby
visitor’s lounge. Gayle and I sat either side of Mum, our arms
around her as she wept quietly into a dainty old-fashioned
lace-bordered handkerchief.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with the
rest of my life without him,” she said, her voice cracking. “We
were married for over forty years. We did everything together.”

Once the doctor had finished his examination,
we were allowed back in to say our final farewells before Dad was
taken to the hospital morgue. That was one of the hardest things
I’d ever had to do in my life.

And that was it. Brian told us that he’d
discuss the funeral arrangements with Mum, letting us know the
details. With nothing more to say or do, we split up, Brian and
Gayle taking Mum home to their house. I told Brian I’d pick her up
tomorrow morning and stay with her until after the funeral.

I cried all the way home, my vision sometimes
so blurry that I could hardly see. I didn’t care. Nothing seemed
important compared to the immense pain of losing Dad.

I’d barely stepped on the landing of the
ground floor at the Warehouse, when Clive shot out of the security
section, ready to accost me. The sight of my red, tear-drenched
face pulled him up briefly, but unwisely, he charged on.

“We haven’t finished our discussion about
your lack of professionalism with Mrs Namoy. It’s a serious matter
that goes right to the heart of
Heller’s
reputation with
prospective clients. You know a lot of our business depends on word
of mouth from satisfied clients. What are the chances that she’ll
recommend us to anyone now?”

My temper erupted. “Sack me and kick me out
of this building for good. I don’t give a shit anymore. And I don’t
give a shit about what Mrs ‘Mega-Bitch’ Namoy is whining about. So
just get the fuck off my back for five seconds.”

Leaving him lost for words, I made my way to
my flat, barring my door again and flopping face first down on my
bed, crying until I thought my heart would burst. At some point I
fell asleep, my face crusted with tear tracks.

The next day, I packed a bag, left another
note under Daniel’s door and drove off to Brian and Gayle’s neat
suburban house. Though it was early, Brian and Mum were awake and
in the kitchen, Mum keeping him company while he ate a hurried
breakfast. Both were polite enough not to mention the unattractive
after-effects of my huge crying jag.

Brian made me a coffee and topped up Mum’s
cup of tea.

“I was just asking Mum if Dad had expressed
any preferences in terms of flowers, songs, hymns or prayers for
his funeral. Of course it will be held at St John’s Church.”

That made sense as it was the church Mum and
Dad had been married in, and had been their preferred location of
worship ever since. Brian, Sean and I had gone to Sunday School in
the adjoining hall, Sean being a particularly mischievous attendee,
almost driving the poor teacher into tearing her hair out in
frustration.

Mum and Brian spoke for a while about the
funeral, Brian jotting down notes.

“Do you have to work, Brian? Is there
anything I can do to help organise the funeral? I’m going to take
some time off.” Actually, after my altercation with Clive
yesterday, I might end up taking a lot of time off.

“I’m taking a few days personal leave to deal
with everything. Dad nominated me as his executor, so there’s a bit
of work involved in freeing their joint assets for Mum to access.
Thank God Dad was organised. It makes things a hell of a lot easier
for me.”

“Gee, you have so much to do. Perhaps Mum and
I can deal with the invitations to the funeral and the announcement
in the paper. If you let me know the details, we can get the
invitations in the mail or email today.”

“Okay, I’m meeting with the funeral director
this morning to discuss the service and coffin.” He looked at Mum.
“I thought you might want to choose the coffin?”

“No, Brian darling. You do it. Tilly and I
will write up the invitations. They’ll take a while to finish. I
trust you to choose something respectful. I don’t care how much it
costs.”

Brian bowed his head. “Thank you, but I’ll
try to keep the budget under control until we can sort out your
financial position.”

These matters were important to discuss, but
it all struck me as a little cold when we’d only lost Dad
yesterday. It was probably best for someone as capable of
detachment as Brian to deal with everything.

I took Mum back to her house and spent some
time cleaning and washing for her. She went through their address
book deciding who to invite to the funeral.

We had a busy day, purchasing the invitations
and booking the newspaper announcement once Brian confirmed the
time and date. With all the invitations written up and either
posted or emailed, we settled down watched some TV in the evening.
She’d kept it together all day, but a retirement plan ad broke Mum.
I shifted over to the lounge next to her, my arm around her
shoulder.

“Dad and I used to sit here on the lounge
watching the news together every night. How am I going to live
without him, Tilly?”

“I don’t know, Mum. We’ll just all take it
one day at a time. It’s all we can do.”

The days flew by before the funeral. Mum and
I planned our outfits for the funeral. She declined to go shopping
with me, deciding the black dress and low heels she already owned
would be suitable. I was in a different boat though, with nothing
black in my wardrobe apart from my
Heller’s
uniform, and I
sure wasn’t wearing that.

I didn’t spend too much money on the
cinched-waist shift dress and court shoes I bought, knowing I’d
never want to wear them again.

The day before the funeral was a flurry of
baking. While I cleaned the house to Mum’s exacting standards, she
began preparing food for the wake. She’d insisted on holding it in
her house, rather than in the church hall as Brian suggested. It
would be a squeeze, especially if everyone came here from the
church. The food would be simple – small cakes and sandwiches.

The day of the funeral was contrarily bright
and sunny. It didn’t seem right to me to hold such a sad, solemn
ceremony in such delightful weather. It should have been cold,
rainy and miserable. The house smelled strongly of competing
blossoms from the wreaths and bouquets delivered, even though the
funeral announcement had specified donations to Dad’s charity in
lieu of flowers.

I’d agonised over my little eulogy, worried
I’d mess it up in front of so many people. Brian and Sean’s
eulogies would be assured and delivered with confidence. Both were
used to speaking in public, Brian taking the occasional media
conference, Sean leading group fitness sessions. I’d sweated over
every word in it, wanting to find exactly the right phrases to
express my deep love for my father, and to make my family
proud.

Dressed in black and standing at the entry to
the church to greet everyone as they entered made everything seem
so much more real. The last days had been frantic preparing for the
funeral, but now it was time to be confronted again by our huge
loss.

The Reverend, a now elderly man, had led the
St John’s congregation ever since I could remember, being around
long enough to have even married Mum and Dad. He creakily ascended
the steps to his pulpit, carefully holding on to the rail. In his
rich, redolent voice, he delivered a thoughtful speech about Dad,
who he described as a quietly accomplished family man. It was
difficult for me to think of him as someone with a career, friends
and hobbies separate from his family, instead of just being my
father, one of the rocks in my life.

Watching Sean and Elise, and Brian and Gayle,
I felt lonely by myself. I wanted Heller to be here with me,
disappointed that once again, when I needed him he wasn’t around.
Would he ever be?

A warm hand slipping into mine took me by
surprise. I glanced sideways to see Daniel’s much-loved face and
warm brown eyes. He’d dressed in a sombre dark grey suit and black
tie. I entwined my fingers with his, grateful to have someone there
to support me.

“Thank you, Danny,” I whispered. “But how did
you know? I didn’t tell anyone.”

“I’m smart like that. Good at ferreting out
information. I’m really sorry about your father, Tilly. You must be
devastated.” He leaned in to kiss my cheek, drawing the curious
attention of my family. I’d never introduced Daniel to them,
keeping most of my Warehouse activities to myself.

After a hauntingly poignant hymn, it was time
for the eulogies. As I’d thought, Brian and Sean delivered theirs
with quiet confidence. My turn came, and I nervously approached the
pulpit, my heart fluttering with anxiety.
Please don’t let me
flake, please don’t let me flake
, I begged silently.

I began hesitantly, tears running down my
face before I’d even finished the first sentence. I gaped at the
congregation, stricken with fear and feeling a dread of utterly
failing at something in public. Seriously considering throwing my
notes away and fleeing in embarrassment, I looked out again at the
expectant faces, seeing nothing but sympathy and compassion. My
family nodded their heads in encouragement, almost willing me to
succeed.

But it was Daniel’s soulful brown eyes that
sealed it for me. He’d been brave enough to appear in public to
support me, so the least I could do in return was to honour the
memory of a man I’d loved so much. I drew in a deep breath,
steadied my voice, and read the rest of my eulogy. When I stepped
down, I truly believed I’d done justice to Dad.

Quite a few other people also wished to speak
of him. It was really touching to hear their lovely comments of
praise, fond remembrances and funny stories about him, most of
which I’d never heard before.

After the ceremony, the Reverend thanked
everyone at the door, reminding them of the wake. When it came my
time to greet him, he clasped my hand, remarking with a lift of one
shaggy, white eyebrow, “Well, if it isn’t young Tilly Chalmers. I
haven’t seen you in church for a quite a long time.”

I said some uncomfortable, unconvincing words
about work and long, busy hours.

“God works long, busy hours too, but always
has time to welcome you to his place of worship and to hear your
prayers, young lady.”

I smiled weakly, edging away from him,
muttering something about taking Mum home to prepare for the wake.
I joined Mum to watch Brian and Sean, two of Dad’s cousins and a
couple of his closest friends, carry his coffin to the hearse
waiting to transport him to the crematorium.

Tearful again myself seeing that coffin
disappearing from view behind the closing doors of the hearse, I
ushered an equally tearful Mum towards my car. I asked Daniel
whether he wished to join us, unsure he’d want to subject himself
to scrutiny from strangers. I suspected some of my relatives would
be quite curious about him after hearing from Mum all about my
tall, blond, beautiful boyfriend.

He thought for a moment, wavering between
wanting to be there for me and not wanting to attract any attention
to himself.

I clasped his hand. “They don’t bite, Danny,
honestly. And you can stick to me like glue.”

“I could be your little helper,” he
half-smiled.

So few people would ever appreciate his
sacrifice in doing this for me. He showed his anxiety, his fingers
almost compulsively darting to his cheek to touch his terrible
scar. I hugged him, fondly flicking some hair from his face and
capturing his hand to stop him reaching for his scar.

“I kinda lied before,” I confessed. He raised
an eyebrow. “Great-Uncle Donald
does
bite, but he doesn’t
have any teeth, so it’s not too bad.”

He rewarded me with a wider smile and I was
satisfied with that.

Chapter 23

As it turned out, Daniel had no time to be
nervous as we were rushed off our feet, making beverages and
handing out cakes and sandwiches. In between serving food, I was on
Puddles watch, making sure he didn’t ‘christen’ the shoes of any of
our visitors.

Both Elise and Gayle had to sit down after a
while, finding the effort too strenuous for their pregnant bodies,
Mum, Brian and Sean fully occupied mingling with our guests. So
while Daniel took over the beverage station, I hustled my butt
around the house offering plates of food.

At the end of the wake, Brian produced a
couple of bottles of very nice brandy inviting those who wished to
celebrate a toast to the memory of Dad. I choked down the fiery
liquid, bringing on a coughing fit only cured by drinking a full
glass of water. The members of Dad’s golf club planned a memorial
dinner in his honour tonight, and I imagined more than a few of
them would wake up with a sore head tomorrow morning.

By the time the last lingering guest was
politely persuaded to leave and the house was left in pristine
order again, we were all knackered. Mum lay down for a while in her
room, Gayle and Elise rested in my brothers’ old bedrooms, and
Brian and Sean watched some sport on TV, babysitting Brian’s two
girls.

Daniel and I sat on my bed chatting about
nothing much. I’d introduced him to everyone as my friend, not
offering any further information about him. Because of the
circumstances my family had been polite enough not to probe deeper
into our relationship. Daniel didn’t say, but I thought he found
their easy acceptance of him not something he’d experienced often
in his life. I felt confident he’d be much less hesitant to come
around with me in the future.