Page 88 of How Much Wine Will Fix My Broken Heart?
‘Obsessively. Like, not all the time. But I do it a lot. Not that I set my watch to how often I do it but I do it regularly.’
Bethan switches her microphone back to me to save Doug going any more crimson. ‘And later, the opening of the new wing… what are your thoughts on that?’
‘I think Tom would feel very proud. He loved this school very much. I can’t wait to see it.’
‘And that is a cut for now, I may come back and find you in a moment,’ she says, before they head off again.
Doug turns to me. ‘You know none of what happened to Tom is your fault? Right? Never think that.’
‘You know me.’
‘Just don’t. He’d hate that. I hate that. You were the best thing that ever happened to Tom Kennedy. He’d be so proud of you and your girls. I know it.’
‘He’d be proud of you too, Dougie. He always was. His dorky best mate living it large in New York. How you still look out for his girl…’
‘You were my mate too, Gracie.’
‘Is it bad I want to cry?’
‘Bethan would love that, it’ll make great footage. You crying in a room full of bollocks.’
‘Don’t say the word “footage”…’
We stand in the corner of that room like naughty schoolchildren, not really knowing what we’re doing. I imagine Tom in this hall during an assembly, doing his laid-back thing on a plastic chair, the kids looking up at cool Mr Kennedy. I wonder who replaced him. I hope he’s a worthy successor. I hope he pays better attention to his health but I hope he teaches with the same joy Tom did.
A young man suddenly walks towards us. Please don’t ask us to come in for a closer look.
‘Hi, are you Mrs Kennedy?’ he asks. The boy is in a strange in between stage of adolescence where his facial hair is sprouting in strange patches on his chin like it’s having a territorial battle with his acne. The high-rise blush in his cheeks makes me think this approach is out of his comfort zone and he can’t quite look me in the eye. Maybe he’s the one with the super-hairy balls.
‘It’s just… Mr Kennedy taught me when he was… you know… here.’
‘Oh, that’s lovely. What’s your name?’
‘Kieran Perry. Mr Kennedy was my form tutor.’
Were you the one who gave us the good Tempranillo one Christmas? That was good wine.
‘I just wanted to say… he really helped me when I was at school. I’m dyslexic and he used to stay behind at lunch and help me with my work.’
Doug and I beam. That sounds typical Tom.
‘And… like, if I get the exam results, I’ve got a place to study English at Manchester and that was really all him…’
We all pause for a moment, my eyes glazing over. The boy did have legacy and it’s standing right in front of me. Oh, Tom. I hope if you are haunting me then you’re seeing this boy. You’re seeing something that went very right in all of this. I suppose half the boys are here for the banter but there are others in this room who loved and respected you too.
‘So I just wanted to let you know and… it was really good to meet you.’ He reaches out, takes my hand and shakes it.
‘You too, Kieran. Good luck at university. My sister went to Manchester. It’s great up there.’
He smiles and turns to go back to his friends.
‘Oh, Doug… if they all have stories like that then this might break me. We may need to leave.’
‘Right, we also need to find you a sink…’ he says, smirking.
I look down at my hand, realising what Doug means. Did Kieran just grope his tackle and then shake my hand? Seriously? I fricking hope that’s not a pube in my palm.
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