Chapter 6

The following morning, Jon and Karen woke, showered, dressed and immediately after breakfast, he picked up his keys from the bowl by the front door and held his hand out to her. He looked over at his parents who both nodded and smiled.

“Where are we going?” she asked as they were getting into the car.

“To see a friend, but we need to stop off somewhere on the way,” he replied.

“Where?” she asked.

“Just a couple of things I need to buy,” he answered.

Karen didn’t ask any more questions after that, but she did managed a little ‘Oh’ of surprise when Jon pulled up outside a florist’s shop, went in and a couple of minutes later came out with two large bunches of chrysanthemums.

“They’re nice,” she said as he laid them carefully on the back seat, “who are they for?”

“Two ladies who are very special to me,” he answered as he put the car in gear and continued down the road. At the roundabout he turned right up Ferrybridge Road and then a hundred yards later turned left into Healdfield Road, past the high school, and finally turned left into Castleford cemetery.

“Why are we here?” Karen asked, looking around her.

“To visit someone,” he replied, taking the two bunches of flowers out of the back of the car. Holding the flowers in the crook of one arm, he took her by the hand and led her down the path. They finally stopped by a grave with a glossy black headstone. On it was a picture of a very beautiful young girl and an inscription.

“Here Lies Susan Elizabeth Noble 1960 – 1978, taken too soon.”

Just that, nothing sugary no devoted daughter of, just plain and simple.

Jon knelt at the grave and placed one bunch of flowers reverently on it, mouthed a few silent words and stood up, tears falling from his eyes.

Karen took the other bunch from him and laid them gently on the ground and then took him in her arms and cuddled him.

“Who was she darling?” she asked.

“My girlfriend, from when we were twelve until...” he trailed off.

“Until she died?” Karen asked, he nodded, “If you want to tell me about it, I’d like to hear, but don’t feel you have to.”

“Oh,” he replied, “I think I do.”

“Then tell me darling,” she whispered, “let me share it with you.”

“We met in the last year of middle school,” he said, “but then I went to QEGS in Wakefield and she came across the road.”

He gestured towards the high school with his head.

“Couldn’t she come with you?” she asked.

“She’d have been very popular if she had, it’s all boys,” he replied, “but she was waiting for me when I got off the bus every night. I very soon realised that I was in love with her, and she seemed to be of the same mind. We did everything together for five years.”

“Everything?” Karen asked.

“Yes, even that,” he replied, “as soon as she was seventeen, she passed her driving test, she got a little car, and we went everywhere in it, especially when I passed mine. Everybody used to call her my wife.”

“So what happened?”

“It was the night of the school Christmas disco, hers not mine,” he said, “she drove her car so I didn’t have to. She dropped me off and set off home. She never made it. Some idiot nearly four times over the limit rammed into the side of her car at seventy miles an hour. My Dad was called in, but they wouldn’t let him operate, because she was my girlfriend, one of his colleagues operated and couldn’t save her. That’s when I decided that I was going to be the best trauma surgeon this world had ever seen.”

She held him as he wept, even wept with him, and when the tears had ceased, kissed him tenderly.

After a while, she let him go.

“Who are the other flowers for?” she asked.

“You,” he replied, “one bunch for my first love, one for my last.”

She hugged him again.

“Jon,” she said, “would you like a few minutes alone with her?”

“No,” he said softly, “I don’t think so.”

“Jon, promise me something,” she said.

“What?”

“You won’t stop coming to see her just because you have me.”

“I promise,” he said, “I’d never do that. I’ll always love her Karen, but that doesn’t mean I’ll love you any less.”

“Do me a favour then,” she said, “go back to the car and wait for me.”

Jon kissed her and began slowly walking back up the path to the car, as he did Karen fell to her knees beside the grave.

“I never knew you, Susan,” she said quietly, “but we both love the same wonderful man. I know I only have him because something terrible happened to you, and believe me, if it could bring you back, I’d give him up tomorrow. I’m going to make you two promises. Firstly, I will never, ever do anything to hurt our man, or if I can prevent it, never let anyone else do that. And secondly, wherever we are, wherever life takes us, your memory will always be honoured in our lives.”

She placed her hand on the flowers that Jon had laid on the grave.

“He bought these for you,” she continued, “his first love, and these others, for me, his last. I would be deeply honoured, if you would accept these, and keep them safe for me, just like I’ll keep him safe for you.”

She stood up and leaned forward to kiss the headstone.

“I’ll come and see you again if I may,” she said finally.

As she turned away a breeze disturbed the leaves in the tree over the grave. Karen could have sworn a small voice had just said please.

When she reached the car, Jon was standing beside it.

“You forgot your flowers,” he said.

“No,” she replied, “I asked Susan to look after them for me. And I promised her that I’d look after you for her.”

He pulled her into a hug and they wept together again.

The drive home was quiet, neither of them spoke until they were out of the car.

“Darling,” Karen said as they walked to the front door, “do you have photographs of you and Susan?”

“Yes, lots of them, why?” he asked.

“Could I see them?”

“Well, yes,” he answered, “but why?”

“I’d like to see them,” she said, “and maybe we could turn some of them into a collage or something for the wall at home.”

“Would you be all right with that?” he asked.

“Jon, I just suggested it,” she replied, “of course I am.”

“OK then,” he said, taking her hand, “let’s do it.”

He led her by the hand into the house, called out to his parents that they were back, then continued upstairs to his room. While he rummaged around in his wardrobe, Karen hung up her jacket and stretched full length on the bed. He joined her on the bed, and opened the two boxes. They were full of postcard sized photo prints.

They spent a couple of hours, lying on the bed, with photos between them looking through what was there. Occasionally Karen would ask a question about a photograph, where was it taken, who by, that sort of thing. Some of the pictures, and Karen’s questions, brought back memories. One in particular brought a tear. It wasn’t just the two of them, but a whole group.

“What’s wrong darling?” Karen asked, when she spotted the tears.

“That’s the last one,” he said, “less than an hour later, she was gone.”

“I’m sorry darling,” she said softly, “I didn’t mean to drag up painful memories.”

“They’re not,” he said, “actually they’re very fond memories, just like the ones I hope we’ll make. I just hope that these new ones go on for longer. Look, Karen, I’ll always have a part of my heart that belongs to Susan, I hope you can accept that. But the huge majority of it will be yours.”

“Just like the majority of mine will be yours, Jon,” she replied, “we both know who and what I am. There’ll be others I have a fling with, I know that, and I won’t hide it. But only ever with other women, and hopefully with other women who are willing to take both of us.”

That aroused his interest somewhat, and she noticed.

“Oh, he likes that idea,” she said smiling.

“Well then,” he replied, “since you’ve got him in that condition, what do you intend to do about it?”

She showed him.

Three hours later, he shook her gently awake.

“Come on sleepyhead,” he said softly, kissing her on the tip of the nose, “get up and dressed, we have people to see, places to go.”

“I don’t want to get up,” she said, “I want you to get up again.”

“Later,” he said, “come on, shower, we need to get going.”

“Slave driver,” she complained, but she started moving.

The Magnet Pub on Pontefract was quiet when the pair of them walked in, the lounge, on the left of the entrance, was empty apart from six people about their age, clustered around two tables.

“Hey, look what the cat dragged in,” one of them said, as he looked round to investigate the noise made by the door closing.

“Yes,” a second one added, “but who’s the goddess with him?”

“The Goddess with him is Miss Karen Kaliszewski of Blackpool.” Jon replied.

“And what would Miss Karen Kaliszewski of Blackpool care to drink? My guess is she’s a Brandy and Babycham type of girl,” he answered.

“Pint of bitter, please,” she replied.

“That was a surprise,” a third member of the group interjected, “beautiful and civilised. Not bad for a lass from Lancashire.”

“She’s a lassie from Lancashire, Just a lassie from Lancashire, She’s the lassie that I love dear, Oh! so dear.

Though she dresses in clogs and shawl, She’s the prettiest of them all.

None could be fairer or rarer than Karen, My lass from Lancashire,” another one sang.