Page 58 of Will You Stay Another Day?
‘Oh. Right. I don’t know… I mean… didn’t you think funerals for objects are a bit of a joke?’ she said, a mischievous look on her face. Was this his sense of humour, like the pranks Harry would play on him? ‘This is a serious business, Dylan Davis.’
His cheeks reddened. ‘I know. The concept initially took me by surprise but I get it now. Please, Lili. Honestly. I need this. It’s the right thing to do.’
Oh. He seemed genuine.
‘And we’ve talked about stuff already. I’ve opened up to you about things I’ve never told anyone.’
The argument with his brother? She studied his earnest face. She didn’t often make an exception but Dylan’s need felt thought through. The doorbell rang. She glanced at it then back at Dylan and nodded. Callum came in carrying two full black bin bags and Lili introduced the two men to each other. Callum disappeared outside again and came back in, dragging three more bags. He looked at Lili sheepishly but she gave him the thumbs-up. Lili and Dylan helped him drag them into the lounge. Callum and Dylan sat on the sofa, Lili in the armchair after fetching glasses of water.
‘Would you be okay going first, Callum?’ she asked. At least that way Dylan would see, first hand, how the ceremony worked.
Callum smiled nervously. ‘Suits me.’ He tugged the bags over to the window and stood in front of it, breathing heavily. ‘Talking to you, Lili, about when you cleared out that stash of birthday cards in your loft, really helped.’ He gave Dylan an embarrassed look. ‘I’m a high school teacher and, well, as Lili now knows, I have found it impossible, over the years, to throw away any of my own school work from when I was a child. I mean, any of it. I’ve kept all the folders and exercise books for every subject, going back to primary school. One bag contains nothing but artwork from those early years. In fact there’s even some from preschool – a whole pile of stickmen drawings.’
‘Wow! That’s amazing,’ said Dylan.
‘I used to think so, and it was okay when I lived with my parents – they had a huge loft – and when I was alone, but the bags became a real sore point with my ex as they took up so much room in our old place. We didn’t have a loft and I haven’t in my new flat. Now I need the space for Jack’s stuff.’ He glanced at Dylan. ‘He’s my young son.’ Callum reached into the nearest bag and pulled out a pile of exercise books. ‘Guess I’m lucky. I had such a good time back then – lots of mates and we all moved up into the same high school. Loved my teachers too.’ He ran a hand over one of the book’s covers. It was covered in doodles, signatures, love hearts and comments ending with exclamation marks. ‘At the beginning, university was hard. I’d never had to work at making friends before. Looking through these bags when I went home for the weekend reminded me of better times. The longer I held on to all the notes, all the books and drawings, the more I felt as if I’d regret giving them up.’ He put the exercise books back. ‘But it’s time now. I’m back at school in a different way, and happy – and I have a son at school, making memories of his own.’
‘Have you kept a selection of what you’re going to give up, like I did with the birthday cards?’ asked Lili.
‘Yes. That was a great idea. I chose a huge ladybird painting that I did in Year 6; it won me a small trophy. Also a test sheet where I got a poor mark in Year 9, but the teacher had written encouraging comments all over it. Mr Jackson was my favourite and keeping that sheet reminds me of what sort of teacher I want to be. Then there’s the exercise book from Year 10 that a girl who I fancied to bits signed. I was so excited! And another one filled with messages between me and my mates. We’d secretly passed it around during one very boring maths lesson. The banter makes me laugh to this day.’ He exhaled. ‘In so many ways, what with my divorce, I need to focus on moving forwards.’ Callum cleared his throat, crouched down and lay his hands on top of the bags. ‘Thank you for reminding me of the wonderful schooldays I had. Thank you for getting me through that tough first year at university, when I developed anxiety and almost left. You kept me going and made me realise that I would make friends and that studying was my life.’ His fingers clutched the black plastic. ‘It’s because of the memories you hold that I became a teacher, a job I love. Thank you. Thank you.’
Callum’s eyes shone as he stood up and he stared at the floor. Dylan strode over and gave him a side hug. Lili took a photo and gave it to him, before the three of them dragged the bags nearer to the windowsill. Dylan fetched his bag and then went back to the window. He took out… the Caravan Palace poster that had been up on Harry’s wall.
‘Thanks for sharing in such an honest way, Callum,’ he mumbled. ‘My object is to do with my younger brother. He died a couple of years ago. I’ve thought about him a lot lately, and about grief. For me it’s been about not wanting to move on, but thinking I should… but then when a happy moment comes my way I feel guilty that Harry isn’t enjoying it too.’ He studied the poster. ‘It’s been about anger as well. Not because he left the business for me to run, not because of the argument we had, but…’ His voice trembled. ‘Angry that he left me. We were supposed to be there for each other, always.’
Lili didn’t blink, thinking about Em.
Dylan gazed upwards, towards the ceiling. ‘Harry, we were going to be each other’s best man at our weddings; uncles to any nephews or nieces. Now that’s all gone, along with the small stuff that mattered so much – the disagreements that would become outrageous, like when you cheated watching a Netflix series we were supposed to go through together, so I changed the password and wouldn’t give the new one to you. Or the wrestling matches we had whenever you called me an old man.’ Dylan gave a trembling smile. ‘But I… I can’t keep your bedroom like it is any more, because it’s frozen in time, at the moment of your death, of your body being found. I relive getting the news every morning when I go in to pull the curtains open. It hurts too much.
‘Taking down this poster is a first step in dismantling that room and redecorating it. I’ll sort through your stuff like I should have months ago, keeping personal items to look through, every now and again. Like that green, white and red teddy bear that Nonna crocheted for your fourth birthday.’ Dylan looked at the poster again. ‘But as much as anything else, you loved this band. They gave you so much joy.’ He ran a finger over it. ‘Thank you for making my brother so happy.’ Dylan didn’t need a photo, and Liliput the poster gently on the windowsill.
However, she didn’t sit down again.
‘You’ve both done brilliantly,’ she said. ‘In fact… you’ve both inspired me to take part too. It’s something that’s been on my mind ever since I first met Dylan, and our trip to Vegas also consolidated my feelings over something. Especially when I went off on my own at the Grand Canyon and… Em…’
Dylan nodded with understanding.
This wasn’t normal procedure but neither had it been with Callum or Dylan. But the aim, the sentiments, were the same as in the other ceremonies. Standing in front of the window, Lili hesitated and then reached into her pocket.
39
Lili dangled a set of keys in the air. She took a deep breath and removed her house key, putting that one back in her pocket. The keyring was still Em’s, a Mickey Mouse one from Disney World in Florida. When travelling in their twenties, the trips had been about visiting authentic places, and they hadn’t expected to enjoy the manmade pleasure centre as much as they had.
‘Colonel Mustard?’ chorused Dylan and Callum at the same time.
Lili was still staring at the car keys. ‘Yes.’
‘But that’s a great little car,’ said Dylan.
‘Jack loves it,’ added Callum.
What with the last-minute organisation, she’d forgotten to tell the other two that they must never question another person’s decision at her ceremonies. Yet, she understood. Colonel Mustard was special.
‘I know,’ she said quietly. ‘Colonel Mustard is one of a kind, that’s for sure, for so many reasons – and that’s exactly why I need to free myself from it. All I can think of – on every journey I make – is Em and the places she drove us to, and the good times in the car, eating snacks and singing along to her 80s mixtape.’ She raised her head. ‘Em, I need to make memories of my own now, and I can’t do that in the Mini. Every drive, I picture us together in the front seats. I hear your voice pointing out something silly or asking me to clarify directions. Remember how many times I’d send you the wrong way? You were most unforgiving!’ Lili would speedily remedy the situation by passing Em half a KitKat or the correct directions to the nearest Starbucks.
‘I need to sell Colonel Mustard.’ There. She’d said it out loud. Tommo had a mate who knew about classic cars. It was likely to sell at a decent price and she’d do her best to convince Colin and Shirl to take the money. Lili lifted the keys in the air. ‘I don’t do this lightly, Colonel Mustard. You’ve been brilliant, given me such great memories, and for your age you’ve been incredibly reliable. I know you’ll go into good, caring hands. Cars like you are always well looked after.’ Her voice caught. ‘You gave Em so much pleasure, and her aunt before her. And me – even if your engine is noisier than a Formula 1 car, or so it seems. How fine you’ve looked, how full of personality. Thanks for everything. I’m so grateful.’
A lump in her throat, Lili placed the keys on the windowsill next to the poster. She didn’t need a photo. Perhaps she’d have one taken of her next to the Mini, before Tommo’s friend helped her sell it. Lili glanced out of the window at the yellow car that was so small compared to modern beasts, with their airbags and big wheels and crash structures. However, Colonel Mustard was huge when it came to character and she’d miss the Mini sitting on her drive – although she definitely wouldn’t miss the backache after a long journey. One thing she’d keep, or rather continue to borrow, if Shirl didn’t mind, was the 80s mixtapes. Lili would have to buy an old tape recorder to play them on. Music had been so important to Em.
