Page 42 of Things We Never Said
‘Sure. Tea and cigarette break, actually.’
When he returns with the tea, Maggie has put two fold-out chairs beneath the pear tree at the bottom of the garden. Sean hands her a mug, places his own on the scrappy lawn, and pulls his cigarettes and matches from his pocket.
‘I’m surprised you started smoking,’ Maggie says.
‘Yeah,’ Sean agrees. ‘I mean, I’m only smoking two a day. But I agree. It’s a strange one.’
‘Particularly ...’ Maggie says. Then she visibly interrupts herself. ‘Um, when are the pears ready?’ she asks. ‘What time of year do they ripen?’
‘Early September. And were you going to say, particularly because Catherine died of cancer?’ Sean asks, blowing a jet of smoke up into the branches of the tree.
‘Yes. Sorry. I was being insensitive.’
‘No, it’s fine. And maybe that’s why,’ Sean says. ‘Catherine hardly ever smoked, after all.’
‘Never?’
‘Well, she smoked about ten cigarettes at college, I suppose. But she rarely went near one after that.’
‘So what’s this? Are you getting your own back on the cigarettes that didn’t cause Catherine’s cancer?’ Maggie asks, looking confused.
Sean frowns and studies the end of his cigarette. ‘No,’ he says, finally. ‘No, I think it’s a nostalgia thing, to be honest. The tapes she left, they’re all about the past. They’re all about when I was young and did smoke. And that made me want to smoke again.’ He takes a drag on his cigarette, then stubs it out in the grass. ‘But I wouldn’t try to analyse that too deeply. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t make any sense.’
‘Perhaps that does make sense,’ Maggie says. ‘I suppose only you would know. So, how’s that going – with the tapes?’
‘I’m about halfway through. They’re very nostalgic, like I say. I’ve been finding myself looking up Echo & the Bunnymen on YouTube.’
‘Echo & the Bunnymen? Now, what did they sing? I remember the name, but ...’
‘Um, “The Cutter”,’ Sean offers. ‘“The Back of Love”?’
‘Nope,’ Maggie says. ‘I think I must have been too mainstream for Echo & the Bunnymen. So that’s what the tapes are? Memories of your college years?’
Sean nods. ‘Pretty much,’ he says. ‘So far, anyway.’
‘You went up north, didn’t you?’ Maggie asks.
‘The Midlands,’ Sean corrects her. ‘Wolverhampton, to be precise.’
‘That’s right. And you and Catherine met there as students?’
Sean laughs. ‘No,’ he says. ‘Do you not know that story?’
‘I don’t think so. But don’t ... you know ... if it’s difficult, then leave it.’
‘No, it’s fine. We met in Dreamland. It’s a funfair.’
‘In Margate? I think I’ve been there.’
‘That’s the one. And then Catherine came to live with me. At college. But I was the student. Catherine never went to college. She never got past CSEs, and I think she failed half of those.’
‘Gosh, how amazing,’ Maggie says. ‘And I never knew. I mean, she was just so ... I don’t know. So clever, I suppose. Educated, too. Cultured.’
Sean nods. ‘She was clever all right. I always thought that if we had done an IQ test together, she would have beaten me hands down. And she read so much. She loved to read.’
‘Yes, she read loads,’ Maggie says. ‘And that’s what the recordings are all about? Trips down memory lane? I did wonder.’ She sips at her tea and looks over the edge of the cup inquiringly.
Sean sighs deeply. He’s wondering, for the nth time, how much to tell. Because the thing is that there are aspects of the tapes he would quite like to discuss with someone. But like many men his age, he simply doesn’t have the kinds of friendships where those subjects are discussable. In fact, since his wife’s death, his friends have been steering pretty much clear. ‘They’re not just that,’ he finally says, thinking simultaneously about the fact that the men he knows don’t seem very comfortable with the concept of bereavement. ‘They’re not just trips down memory lane. Some of them are quite ... difficult, I suppose you’d say.’
