Thomas reversed parked his car and turned off the ignition. He closed his eyes and slowly let out a long exhale through his nose. It was late. Later than he had planned. But that was the result when you allowed your subconscious to have enough control of your conscious to procrastinate.

Opening the boot, he lifted out his overnight bag, before slamming it shut again. Opening the rear passenger door behind the driver, he carefully lifted out his suit bag. A hip-bump shut the door again and the car beeped as he pressed the lock on the key remote.

Inside the motel was quiet. A sign on the desk informing all that could read it, that the desk was unmanned at night. There was a number for emergency’s. Alongside the un-manned reception desk, was a computer terminal displaying a large welcome sign across it’s screen. Under the welcome logo, there was a small list of options, one of them being ‘check in’. He pressed a forefinger upon it on the screen. The screen changed to a keyboard and asked him to enter his booking number. He duly entered it and an arrow appeared pointing to the left. Dutifully he looked left to where there was a dish below a hole in the wall.

There was a ‘tink’ as a plastic card tumbled into the dish. Thomas lifted it out and looked at the room number ‘C14’. There were four doors leading from the reception room, an array of numbers and letters above them. He located the one that contained the C’s with his number. There was a black box next to the door. He pressed his card against it and there was a loud audible click as the door lock released. Then it was simply a case of walking along corridors and up a flight of stairs to his room. There was another door with a black panel under the handle. Another click as he placed the card against it. Pulling down on the handle opened the door to his room for the night. A room big enough, just, for a single bed and a dressing table with mirror. There was a fourteen inch flat screen TV mounted on the wall and another door that revealed a cramped, but functional bathroom consisting of a small sink, toilet and shower. He didn’t bother turning on the bathroom light, in these places, it normally set in motion an extractor fan that sounded like an aircraft taking off.

There was a hook on the back of the room’s door that he hung his suit carrier upon. The ten hour drive had exhausted him. He pulled his phone out and set the alarm before plugging it into the wall to recharge. After that, it was simply a case of undressing and falling into bed.

The discordant jangle of his alarm did its job and awoke him from his deep slumber. The light switch for the toilet/bathroom, did indeed start a jet engine. The shower pressure was weak, and that was being polite. The max temperature it was capable of going to, had obviously been set so as to avoid any possibility of law suits over scalding. Though, had they set it any lower, they ran the risk of being sued for hypothermia instead.

The towels were scratchy and hydrophobic, but managed to chase enough water from his body. He shaved, ran a comb through his hair, sprayed on some deodorant and toileted. Pulling out clean socks and underwear from his overnight bag, he opened up his suit carrier and pulled out the trousers and white shirt. He dressed and loosely tied the black tie around his collar. Packing away the few items he had unpacked, he zipped up the bag and lifted down the suit carrier that just contained his jacket.

The door clicked behind him as he set off down the corridor. There was still no-one in reception, but there was a slot to take the cards of departing guests. Thomas dropped his card inside. Entering his car was a reversal of the night before. He was slightly early, but he could wait in the car. There was no real need to speak to anyone.

As it happened, in the ten years since he had last been here, someone in a position of power they were totally unsuited for, had decided to make the town’s road network a one way system. By the time he had it figured out, he was cutting it fine. Pulling into the first available parking space, he turned off the ignition and pulled his tie tightly in position. He stared at the steering wheel. “It’s just a hour and then back home. You can do this.” Stepping out, he retrieved his jacket from the back seat, buttoning it into place as other mourners filtered into the church.

“Let me see your phones...”

“Mom...”

“Now!”

Steve sighed and showed his mum his phone. She nodded “Tracey?”

“I’m not a child mom...” But she still handed it over to her red eyed and teary mother.

Lea swiped a finger over the screen, which lit up to display the lock screen. She held it out so her daughter could see. “Turn it off. And it stays off. If I hear a single peep from either of your phones, I swear to God I will beat you to death with the first thing that comes to hand. If that’s the bible, then so be it.”

Tracey opened her mouth to argue, caught the eye of her father, who slightly shook this head. “Fine! Tracey snatched her phone from her mother and turned it off, slipping it into the small clutch bag she held as the undertakers opened the car doors.

The priest climbed slowly, reverently, into the pulpit and surveyed the faces staring up at him. This was power. Old-school power. “We are all gathered here, to celebrate the life of Gabriel Houston. Wife, mother, grandmother. But before we start, I would like to remind you all, that although God speaks to us all in multiple ways, he has yet to master the mobile phone. With that in mind, could you please ensure that all your mobile devices are turned off, in respect to the recently deceased and her family. Thank you.

We begin this day...”

Lea had promised herself that she would be strong, that she wouldn’t cry. She failed. It took all her willpower not break down into a complete sobbing emotional wreck. She wanted to feel the comforting arm of her husband around her, but he was too far away, separated by their two fourteen year old children.

The priest droned on, every word going in one of Lea’s ears and straight out the other. All she could think about, was her mother. All the things left unsaid, the things she would never be able to say. The harsh words that she would never be able to take back. Her laughter, her touch, her smell, her smile. All gone forever.

Lea stood when everyone else stood, sat when they sat, kneeled when they knelt. She didn’t sing with the rest of the mourners. The lump in her throat wouldn’t allow it.

Towards the end, it was becoming easier. She had wanted to read her eulogy, but it had been apparent that morning that she wasn’t going to be capable, so she had given it to the priest to read out on her behalf. It was towards the end of her eulogy that the phone rang out. The chimes echoed loudly around the vaulted ceiling. As one, the entire congregation turned in their seats to look at the offending individual. A bright red faced mother was pawing desperately at her daughter.

Lea turned and caught her daughters eye. No word was said, the look she gave her daughter said everything that needed to be said.

Her husband slowly leaned over the heads of their two children, as a rather loud and pointed sigh emanated from the pulpit. “Is that your brother in the row behind?” He quietly asked. Their two children turned sharply to look at their father at the sudden revelation of a family member they hadn’t even known had existed.

Lea looked back, sure enough he was there, sat in the row behind the frantic mother. Slimmer, aged, but somehow looking the better for it.

She felt so light headed, the church was spinning. Subconsciously, she was aware that she was perilously close to fainting. She closed her eyes tightly, focused on the darkness and ignored everything bar her breathing. A hand was placed gently upon her shoulder and she focused upon it as she breathed deeply out through her nose. Things stabilised and she slowly opened her eyes.

The priest carried on.

An employee of the funeral parlour quietly walked down the central aisle and stopped next to their pew as the priest wrapped up the service. The undertaker nodded at her husband. It was time.

Lea and her family stood and filed out of the pew. Her husband took his position at the front of the coffin as other designated male relatives took their place. At a silent signal from the undertaker, they took hold of the coffin as they had previously rehearsed multiple times back at the funeral parlour, and smoothly positioned it upon their shoulders. Lea and her two children took their pre-rehearsed positions directly behind and at another silent signal, they proceeded back down the central aisle towards the two big doors- which were being slowly opened- and the outside world.

The air outside was several noticeable degree’s warmer than it had been inside. The light bright against her sore eyes. The hearse was there, waiting. Her mother was gently, reverently, slid inside as the bearers stood aside. It had all gone smoothly. Her fears of her mother being dropped or bashed against walls not realised.

The original plan had been to go straight to the family plot to inter her mother and then to the wake after. However, a few days previous, the main water-main running along under the street outside of the cemetery had ruptured. The street was now closed- as was the cemetery- whilst engineers dealt with the situation. In the meantime, her mother would go back to the funeral home until she could be properly interred next weekend.

A steady stream of mourners were leaving the church, many of them pausing to give their condolences. One figure caught her eye and she politely disengaged herself from a well-wisher and hurried over as decorously as she could.

“Thomas?”

Thomas turned around at the sound of his name. She was there, heading towards him. He had no plan for this, other than he had hoped that it wouldn’t happen. She looked good. Even though the black dress was modestly cut, it couldn’t disguise the frame underneath. She stopped in front, her eyes wet and red. He didn’t know what to say. What did you say after more than ten years? He opened his mouth, but no words escaped.

Arms wrapped themselves tightly around him as she sobbed into his shoulder. Uneasy, he looked over her shoulder at her husband, stood near the hearse, a child clinging tightly to either side. Their eyes met, his face expressionless as he returned Thomas’s gaze briefly before breaking off to politely reply to a mourner. The boy and girl stared at him in curiosity. The last time Thomas had seen them, had been at their christening, when they had barely been out of their swaddling clothes.

“I thought you were dead...” She murmured.

He rested his head against the top of hers. Her hair smelled nice. It always had. “It was a close thing.” He joked.

He felt her grip loosen, and loosened his in return as she stepped back, pulling a tissue out of her handbag. She blew her nose noisily.

“Are you going to the wake?”

“I wasn’t planning to.” He admitted.

“Please do. For me.” He stayed quiet. “Please Thomas, for me. I need you.”

“Okay, El.”

She stepped closer again, gave him a quick brief hug. “I’d better, you know, do the social thing. Do you know where it is?” He shook his head. She gave him the name and address of the hotel. “You’d better be there...”

“I will.”

He made his way through the throng, skirting those that looked as though they might try and engage him in conversation. Safely in his car, he squeezed his hands tightly against the steering wheel.

Every brain cell he had, screamed that this was, was going to be a bad idea. Still, his fingers turned the key and the diesel engine died. He dispensed with the tie and the top button of his shirt. Joining the mourners slowly making their way through the main doors, he politely declined the offered glass of wine and went in search of a coffee. The coffee was typical cheap hotel fair, but it was hot and black. It would do.

Several faces rang bells, some he remembered, he avoided them all, moving towards a darkened quiet corner.

“Oh no you don’t...” The voice that appeared behind his shoulder made him jump a little as an arm slipped through his and steered him away from his refuge. Faces turned towards them, almost all with expressions of curiosity as to who this strange man was, that the deceased’s daughter was so comfortable with. “Why now?”

“Sorry?” Thomas nervously asked.

“Why have you re-appeared now? The death of our mother?”

“I only found out about it by chance. Two days ago, actually.”

“You could have got in touch before then.”

“I know. I had a lot of things I needed to sort out. I was not in a good place for a long time. And ... it seemed as though everyone and everything had moved on in the meantime. It was harder than expected to catch up.”

Lea looked down at his coffee. “Are you really not stopping?” He shook his head and she glanced down at his ring free hands again. “Where are you now?”

“Up North.” The evasion wasn’t deliberate, just habit.

“‘Up North... ‘ They have place names up there, same as we have down here you know...” He allowed a ghost of a smile to touch his lips. “There you go.” She smiled at him. “Turn that frown, upside down. It’s not as though you are at a funeral. She missed you, you know. Mum.”

“I...” he didn’t know what to say, trailed off. He managed to kill the shrug before his shoulders carried it out.

She sighed. “I so need to get hammered.”

“I would recommend not dancing on the buffet table.” They both looked towards the buffet table where people were politely reminiscing and catching up with gossip, especially the older generations who had still to master the internet and social media. Lea’s two children were steadily working their way through the various dishes as though they hadn’t eaten for a month. In fact, there seemed to be a competition between them and several other older funeral guests as to who could eat the most in one sitting. Given the rising cost of food and heating costs, along with the stagnation of pensions, Thomas wouldn’t have been surprised if they hadn’t eaten for the last day or more.

“What’s your number?” Lea pulled out her phone.

“Err...”

“Tell me, or this will be a wake for two...”

Thomas supplied the number and Lea’s thumbs were a blur as she typed away. His breast pocket buzzed. “Don’t you trust me?” He asked, not bothering to pull out his phone and check the caller ID.

“Hell no! I don’t want our next meeting to be at Tracey’s wedding.”

He raised an eyebrow. “She has a steady boyfriend already?”

“Not if he can help it...” Unconsciously they both looked over to Lea’s husband and father of her two children. “Anyhow I need to go and socialise and do the polite thing. You should try it sometime.” Her arm slipped from his and she took a couple of steps away, only to turn back to him. “I will be seeing you. We have a lot to catch up on.”

A couple of random’s tried to engage him in polite conversation, no doubt trying to work out his relationship to the recently deceased. He politely and not so politely brushed them off and finished his coffee, before making a determined path for the exit.

It was good to be ‘home’. Thomas tossed the car keys onto the kitchen work surface of his simple one bedroom flat. It wasn’t much, but it was all his. Pulling open the door of his fridge, he pulled out a beer and collapsed onto the couch as he turned the telly on. She had looked good. Really good. He couldn’t stop the memories of their childhood come flooding back. The good times. The bad times. But mostly the good ones. In fact, now that he thought about it, there hadn’t been that many bad times.

She had kept her figure, which was impressive. His ex, Satan take her soul, had pretty much lost it after their first child, the second had sealed the deal. He remembered how good she had felt next to him at their mother’s funeral. It was as if everything before had never happened. He felt his blood start to boil and flicked through the channels to find something that would take his mind away from his sister and their memories.

His phone rang, the number displayed, but unknown to him. He answered it cautiously. “Yes?”

“‘Yes?’ Really? You’ve not even put me in your phone book?”

It took a moment for the voice to register, since it had been two weeks since the funeral. “El?”

“And there we go ... You are something else, you know that?”

“I...”

“You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family...”

“Sorry.” He paused as he started to say many things in his mind and erased them all, as they all sounded bad. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Well, nothing’s stopping you from picking up the phone and, you know, actually calling me. Hmm?”

“Okay, fair one, I walked into that.”

“Aye.”

“I’m a bit socially rusty. A bit used to my own company.”

“A bit...? I might start calling you Emotional Scrooge.”

“I shall endeavour to call you more often. I wasn’t sure, if, you know...” He trailed off, wondering how far to push it. I was hard without visual cues to gauge her current mood.

“Anyway, I need to pick up Tracey soon, so I will cut to the chase and we can exchange small talk later. I need to get the papers for the close of mother’s estate signed. Now that you are back in the land of the living, that complicates things slightly, as you are not in it as, well, you were supposedly dead when it was written.”

“It’s okay, I’m fine with what-ever she wanted.”

“Don’t be a dick Thomas, this is yours as much as it’s mine. What’s your address and I will get the train up and we can agree to disagree or what-ever.”

“You could just post the paperwork up to me to sign, that would be easier.”

There was silence at her end.

“Do you not want to see me?” Her tone was emotionless, flat.

“What! Not at all! I was just thinking of you and your family. It’s a long journey for a two second scribble...” There was no reply to that, just silence. Thomas waited. Still silence, Eventually he sighed. “Have you a pen and a bit of paper handy?”

An arrangement was made for her to come up next Friday and go back down on Saturday morning. He had pointed out that he only had an uncomfortable sofa, and she had replied that was fine, they could order a pizza in, or a curry, or something, and that she fully intended to remove a few bottles of wine from the world, so would be too smashed to notice the state of the couch. He shook a head she could not see.

Thomas checked his phone for the umpteenth time that afternoon. He had taken the day off work- he had enough days accrued and tended at the end of the financial year to take additional pay instead of time off in lieu. He had planned to just order in a take-away like his sister had suggested, but over the last decade, he had moved away from expensive take-aways that he couldn’t afford, and had taught himself to cook better quality- but mainly cheaper- meals. He planned to keep it simple with a main meal they used to have as kids and a home-made cheesecake as his sister had always loved cheesecakes and he doubted that had changed. The app on his phone informed him that the train was running on time and a message from his sister earlier had informed him that she was on it.

He had cleaned the flat to death, scrubbing the walls and shampooing the carpet, even going as far as to polish the taps and exposed metal in the bathroom. He had bought a simple but luxurious throw for the couch and some new blankets and a pillow. He looked around, trying to find anything out of place, even though he knew that it was just his nervousness manifesting itself. It was a relief when it was finally time to get in his car.

His phone buzzed as he was driving. He glanced at the text. Just a simple “on time for arrival as stated” He had a pre-typed message that he would be there, ready to send. He looked round for any police that might take umbrage with his using a mobile phone whilst driving, and seeing none, sent the pre-typed message, ‘Ok meet you there’.

She was waiting for him outside the station. Dressed in trainers, tight jeans, T-shirt and fleece jacket. A large bag was slung over her shoulder. Thomas pulled over and stepped out of the car to open the boot for her bag. He wondered if he should shake hands or something, but she made the decision for him by wrapping him in a big tight hug that she didn’t seem to be in a hurry to break.

Somewhat uncomfortable, he poked her bag with a finger as they held each other. “I thought you said that you were just staying overnight?”

“I am.”

“What’s with the luggage for a week?”

“Bloody men. It takes time, effort and materials to look this good you know...”

Thomas pulled back to look her up and down. “You need fuck all to look good.”

She met his gaze and Thomas felt uncomfortable at what had escaped his mouth and how she might take the compliment. Women were weird these days.

“Err, anyway, give me your bag before I get a ticket.” He took her bag and put it into the boot of the car. “So,” he said as he slid into the driver’s seat, “When is your train back?”

“Oh, great! I’m barely here and you want to know when I am gone?”

Thomas coloured. “I didn’t mean it like that El, I just wanted to know how much time we had together as you never said...”

“Uh-huh...”

“Honest El, I didn’t...” He caught the slight crease on the corner of her tightly closed lips as he pulled out in to the traffic. “Fuck you El!”

“God, you always were so easy to wind up...”

“Fuck you...”

Her bright, joyous laughter sounded good in the car. The silence that followed was companiable. He could smell her scent, trapped as it was, and it was good. Thomas tried to concentrate on the road.

“Did you get some wine?”

“Err, no I didn’t.”

“Fucks sake, you are useless. There! Park there!”

Thomas pulled into the indicated and freshly vacated parking spot at the side of the road. Lea wasted no time in getting out and running across the pavement to a small off-licence. She wasn’t long in coming back, cradling two bottles of wine. “Mah twa babies...” She said in a terrible Scottish accent, as she cuddled them with one hand as she used the other to pull her seatbelt across and into place.

“What the fuck nationality was that supposed to be!” He asked in mockery as he indicated and pulled back out. “Surely it should have been French? Scots only drink whisky and that God-awful Irn-Bru.”

“And Buckfast...”

“Well, and Buckfast, I suppose.” He grudgingly conceded.

“No wonder they are so angry all the time, a distinct lack of decent booze.”

Lea carried her two precious bottles and Thomas carried her large, but surprisingly light bag up the stairs to his flat.

“Nice,” She remarked dryly as they climbed the short flight of stairs. She waved a bottle held hand “Lacking a certain je ne sais quoi, though... ”

“You mean the stairwell doesn’t smell of piss?”

“That’s what it is! I knew there was something missing.”

Putting his key in the lock, Thomas opened his door and waved an arm with a flourish as he invited her in, which she gracefully accepted. Lea sniffed loudly and often as she entered, her nose wrinkling in a way that Thomas thought was beyond cute. “Have you made dinner?”

“I have indeed.” He admitted proudly.

Lea paused and sniffed again. “Smells ... Familiar...”

“Put your wine in the fridge, actually, the freezer might be better, and I’ll finish preparing our repast.”

Lea placed her two bottles in the freezer “Where’s your toilet? Or would I be better drunk first?”

“Through that door there, light switch on the outside, on the right. And no, it’s not the toilet from Trainspotting. That one flushed...”

She stuck her tongue out at him as she disappeared inside.

He had timed everything beforehand, hoping that neither the train would be delayed nor that there would be any hold ups on the road to and from the station. So far the Gods had headed his fervent prayers. He finished off the preparations as he heard the toilet flush and the sink taps run.

“I’m impressed.” Lea admitted upon leaving. “You can come to mine and do the housework any time you want.” She clocked what he was carefully dishing out. “Is that...”

“Yes it is...”

“I thought it smelt familiar!” Lea retrieved her two bottles from the freezer, placing one on the table and the other in the fridge. “And is that cheesecake!” She said, stating the obvious at the cheesecake loitering on the fridge shelf like calorie hand grenade. She shut the fridge door as he handed her a corkscrew “How the fuck are you still single Thomas?”

“It turns out to be quite easy, really. You can pull your own chair out.”

Lea pulled out her chair and sat at the table as she pulled the foil off from around the cork. Deftly she attached the corkscrew and with ease of long practice, pulled the cork free and poured some wine into her glass. Thomas finished serving, abandoned the pots in the sink and retrieved a cold beer from the fridge. Lea took a forkful of food as he finished up.

“Mmm, this tastes exactly as I remember it! How did you get the recipe from mum? She never did tell me it, though she swore that she would. Closely guarded family secret and all that...”

Thomas popped the cap off his beer and sat down. “By chance, as it happens. Learned it as I learned to cook. It was in the Julia Child’s cookbook...”

Lea snorted, “The lying cow,” but lifted her class of wine. “To mum.”

Thomas lifted his beer and gently tapped it against her glass. “To mum.”

They ate in silence, respecting the food, and the memories that went with it. By the time they had finished, Lea was well down her bottle of wine. She leaned back with a sigh as her brother removed the empty plate from in front of her and replaced it with a bowl. He removed the cheesecake and a small jug of cream from the fridge, placing it on the table between them. Lea wasted no time in getting stuck in. “Mmm, you made this as well?” She waved her fork at the no longer pristine cheesecake. “Deffo not supermarket bought, or you bought it from a baker.” She went quiet and Thomas could see her visibly pause to enjoy the texture and taste. That single expression of unmitigated pleasure made all the hours of preparation and graft over the previous few nights totally worth it.

She let out a large sigh and happily emptied her bowl, though she looked pointedly at him. “What fucknut gives people a bowl, pouring cream and a motherfucking fork...”

He laughed and passed her a dessert spoon from the cutlery drawer before moving to put the cheesecake back in the fridge.

“Don’t go too far away with that dick-head.” She said warningly as she watched him remove the cheesecake from the table, spooning the cream from the bottom of her bowl into her mouth. Filling up her glass again, she pushed her bowl away and stood from the table, moving over to her bag, which she opened, and from which she retrieved a folder. “Better get this done whilst we are still sober. Ish.” She handed him a thick wad of A4 bundled documents. One of the bundles was marked ‘Original Will’ another ‘Modified’. He slowly started to read through it as his sister made a start on the washing up, letting him read and digest the documents in silence.

The original will left everything of their mother’s to Lea. The modified one, was where Lea had asked for half the estate to be given to him. It was a substantial amount, but his opinion of money had changed over the years. He insisted she take it all, as had been the stated in the original will but she refused. They argued energetically over it for a while, before finally agreeing that he would take half the amount he was due and the remaining half would be put in trust for Lea’s two children. Lea said she would get the lawyer to arrange it on Monday and the form sent up for him to sign.

With the important bit out of the way, Lea pulled her remaining bottle out of the fridge, along with a beer, and opened both. She handed the beer to her brother as she sat down on the couch next to him. Automatically he lifted his arm and draped it around her as she snuggled into his side and sighed contentedly.

They sat in quiet with just the occasional sound of sipping. There was a TV in front of them, but it hadn’t been turned on. He felt her head move against his chest as she looked up. He looked down to meet her gaze.

“I told you she was bad news...”

Thomas took a swig of beer, pursed his lips and saluted her with the bottle, acknowledging the truth of her statement.

“You’re such a dick head.” She said before she softened her tone. “What happened?”

He took another swig. She deserved the truth. “She blindsided me, I thought I could fix it. That we could fix it. I couldn’t see that she had no desire to. By the time I started to wake up to the fact, it was all but over. She had planned it well, been working on her exit strategy for years. Turned the boys against me. When I finally realised that, and sought a lawyer, she -the lawyer- basically said I was fucked. Obviously she said it in fancier words that took an hour of billable time, but the end result was the same.