Page 1 of Things We Never Said
PROLOGUE
The drive from the funeral parlour to the house takes place in silence. Beside Sean, his daughter April stares stony-faced from the side window. They both cried abundantly during the service, but right now are feeling more numb than anything else. Both are thinking about the fact that they should probably say something to comfort or reassure the other but, as none of the normal formulas for filling silences work here – there’s no point, for example, in asking if someone is OK when they’re clearly not – they continue in silence. The risk of provoking fresh floods of tears is just too high, at least until the journey is over.
On reaching the house, Maggie, one of their most faithful family friends, opens the front door. She squeezes Sean’s shoulder and silently hugs April who, bracing herself against further tears, accepts the hug more rigidly than she intended.
‘The food’s in the lounge,’ she says. ‘And Perry’s making drinks in the kitchen.’
‘Thanks, Mags,’ Sean says. ‘You’re a star for doing all of this.’
As Maggie retreats into the house, Sean removes his overcoat and hangs it on a hook in the hallway.
He hesitates between the lounge, where he can hear somewhat incongruous laughter, and the kitchen, where a stiff drink will come at the hefty cost of being forced to talk to his brother.
‘Dad!’ April prompts, applying gentle pressure on his elbow. ‘You’re blocking the hallway. Let’s go get a drink.’
‘Sure. Yes. Sorry,’ Sean says, moving reluctantly towards the kitchen.
‘Hey,’ Sean’s brother says, looking up as he enters. ‘How are you holding up?’
‘Um, OK, Perry,’ Sean replies. ‘Can you make me one of those?’
Perry glances at the bottle of Bombay Sapphire in his hand. ‘A G and T?’ he asks.
Sean nods. ‘With plenty of G.’
‘Coming up,’ Perry says, already starting to unscrew the cap.
‘Me too, Uncle Perry,’ April says. ‘If that’s all right?’
‘Sure, it’s like a production line here,’ Perry says. To fill the silence that ensues as he mixes the drinks, he adds, ‘It was a nice service.’
Really?Sean thinks.Do I really have to do this?‘Yeah,’ he replies. ‘It was.’
Someone squeezes Sean’s elbow and, thinking that he’s chosen the wrong place to stand again, he starts to apologise.
But it’s just Maggie trying to comfort him. ‘Are you OK?’ she asks, gently. ‘I mean, considering the circumstances, obviously. Are you as OK as can be expected?’
Sean takes a deep breath and nods. ‘I’m exactly as OK as can be expected,’ he says. ‘I just need a stiff drink, but Perry has that under control.’
As he says this, Perry holds out a gin and tonic. The ice cubes tinkle against the glass and Sean’s mind unexpectedly flashes back to a different glass of gin and tonic, held by his late wife’s petite hands in the Grecian sunlight. He shakes his head as if to dislodge the memory and steels himself, because, yes, there are no doubt thousands of these memories yet to come.
‘How’s Mum?’ he asks Perry. ‘Have you been out there to see her recently?’
His brother nods and shrugs simultaneously. ‘Most weekends,’ he says. ‘And, you know ... she’s pretty much the same. She doesn’t know her arse from her elbow most of the time.’
‘Right,’ Sean says. ‘Of course.’
‘She’d still like to see you, though,’ Perry says.
Sean restrains a snort. His mother has never shown much sign of wanting to see him, and dementia has done little to improve the situation.
Armed with drinks, Sean and April move through to the lounge where family friends are telling each other amusing stories about Catherine.
April leans into her father’s side and rests her head on his shoulder. ‘I’m not sure I can do this, Dad,’ she murmurs.
‘Do what?’ Sean asks.
‘All of this “do you remember when?” stuff. It just makes me feel like punching someone.’
