Page 2 of Things We Never Said
Sean smiles sadly and lays one arm across her shoulders. ‘You don’t have to do anything, you know. You can go for a walk with that boyfriend of yours. You can go to bed. Do whatever feels easiest for you. They’ll all be gone soon enough, and you and I can be as miserable as sin together. How does that sound?’
‘That sounds great,’ April says. ‘OK, here goes.’ Then, visibly steeling herself, she straightens and launches herself towards the group. ‘Hi,’ she says. ‘How are you?’
‘Oh, hello!’ a friend of her mother says. ‘I was just telling everyone about your mum’s poor hydrangeas.’
By four, everyone has left.
Sean removes his tie and throws himself onto the sofa. He’s had four gin and tonics and is feeling fairly wobbly, but it’s not helping as much as he had hoped.
‘Well, thank God that’s over,’ April says, taking the armchair opposite and lifting a sandwich from the small plate she has set on her knees.
‘I know,’ Sean agrees.
‘Have you eaten anything?’ April asks. ‘There are loads of sandwiches left. Mags thought she was catering for a football team, I think.’
Sean wrinkles his nose. ‘Not hungry,’ he says, then, ‘How long did you say you were staying?’ He’s wondering whether it would be easier to be alone with his pain right now, or whether the empty house will be quite simply unbearable. For the moment, he feels so exhausted, so dead inside, that it doesn’t seem to matter one way or another.
‘Until tomorrow afternoon, I expect,’ April says. ‘If that’s OK.’
‘Of course,’ Sean replies, looking out at the sunlit street.
‘Could we watch a film or something?’ April asks.
‘A film?’ Sean asks, turning back to face her.
April nods. ‘I don’t ...’ she says, her voice wobbling as her eyes begin to tear. ‘I don’t know quite what to do with myself. A film might help. Maybe.’
Sean blinks slowly. ‘Sure,’ he says. ‘Go for it. The remote’s, um ...’
He fidgets uncomfortably, then reaches below his thigh and retrieves not the Sky remote, but an iPhone. He sighs deeply and frowns at it, then places it on the coffee table.
‘Her phone,’ April says.
Sean nods.
‘God.’
‘I’m not really sure what to do with it,’ Sean says.
‘No. Just, maybe, stick it in a drawer or something?’
‘Yeah,’ Sean says. ‘Yeah, that’s probably best.’
April finds the remote control down the side of her armchair and clicks on the television. She starts to surf the list of available films, then pauses. ‘Can I ask you something?’ she says.
Sean nods. ‘Of course, sweetheart. Anything.’
‘I don’t want to upset you.’
‘It’s OK. I think I’m at one hundred per cent, anyway. I don’t think I can feel more upset. What is it?’
‘It’s just, you know, that last day. When Mum said we’d be hearing from her shortly?’
Sean smiles sadly. ‘Yeah. She sounded like she was making a dental appointment or something. She was off her face on morphine, sweetie. That’s all it was.’
April nods. ‘Mum didn’t ...’ She shakes her head gently. ‘She didn’t, you know, believe in anything, did she?’
‘What, you mean like an afterlife?’
