Chapter 22: Realisations

There was a surprise waiting for me when I walked out the front door on Tuesday morning.

“Hi, Sweets.” Clarissa was sitting on the bonnet of her car, looking stunning. “You can put your bag back in the house. We’re skipping it today.”

“Skipping what?”

“School, silly.”

“Any particular reason or just ‘cause you feel like it?”

“Of course there’s a reason.” She stood and walked up the path to me. “I didn’t know what day today was until you told me, which I really should have done, so I’m sorry about that. But I spoke to Kevin last night—he was surprised when I called him—and I spoke to Lisa Simms—she was shocked I called her—and they both said that the past two years you’ve been miserable as sin today. I can understand why because Daddy’s anniversary is awful and both times I’ve wished I didn’t have to go into school and I’m guessing you feel the same. So, today, you’re not. Now, I figured the reason you went to school before was the same reason I did, you didn’t really want to be on your own if you didn’t go, so, this year, you’re not going, and you’re not going to be on your own when you don’t go. Okay?”

Who could argue with that? “Er ... Okay.”

“Good. So, put your bag back in the house, then come and get in the car.”

I did as I was told and then, as she pulled away from the kerb, I asked, “So where are going?”

She glanced at me before watching the road again. “We have two things to do first, then we’re going to get out of Micester. I thought a nice quiet day in Westmouth, not really doing anything, just wandering around, trying to take our minds off things. Then, this evening, I’m going to cook you the best meal you’ve ever had—oh, wait, your sister’s a chef up at The Hall—maybe not the best meal you’ve ever had, but a damn good one, then we’re going to sit on the sofa watching some dumb action movie.”

“But ... But, it’s a school night. Your mom never lets you out on a school night.”

She shrugged. “I told her what day it is. She understands and made an exception.”

Ten minutes later we’d found a spot in the car park just off High Street and were winding our way through the early morning shoppers until Clarissa stopped outside a florist. “Here we are.”

“Where?”

“Just need to go and pick something up.” She whirled around and disappeared into Eden Flowers, me trailing in her wake, slightly bemused.

“Good morning, Clarissa,” said the elderly woman behind the counter.

“Do you have it?”

“Yes, dear, it’s already out the back, hang on.” She shuffled out of the room, returning shortly with a big bouquet. “Here we go, sweetie. On your mother’s account?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, dear. Not at all.”

Clarissa picked up the flowers and said to me as she passed on her way out of the shop, “Well, come on then.”

At the car, she carefully placed the flowers on the back seat and climbed behind the wheel. I sat next to her and said, “What’s going on, Riss?”

“What do you think? We’re going to see your parents.”

“What...? But ... I mean...”

She turned her body to face me and put her hands on my knees. “Paul, when was the last time you went to see them? When was the last time you spoke to them?”

I shrugged. “Honestly, I can’t remember. I try not to go. You know ... It’s ... It’s too much.”

“Exactly. You need to go. To get it out of your system. You need to be able to go and see them without it being a Big Deal. Trust me, it helps. Whenever I have something I’m not sure about or something I’m worried about, I go and talk to Daddy. It helps. It really does. Trust me. And besides, if you can’t go see them today, of all days...” Now she shrugged. “Look, if you really, really don’t want to go, then we’ll skip it. But I think you should. Even if it’s just for five minutes.”

I nodded. It was all I could do. I didn’t trust myself to speak.

The cemetery was on the edge of town, opposite The Rec. Clarissa parked by the squat building that served as a chapel and administration building, got out and extracted the flowers from the back seat as carefully as she’d put them in.

“Where are they?” she asked.

Like I said, it had been a while since I’d been to the cemetery—two years in fact. I’d been to visit them on the first anniversary of their death, but I’d broken down so badly that I hadn’t dared go back since. So it took me a while to get my bearings.

“This way,” I said, pointing along one of the many paths leading away from the chapel.

We walked in silence, Clarissa in step with me, carrying the flowers. The path led us deeper into the cemetery and we passed a big old oak in the shadow of which the gravestones that weren’t regularly tended were covered in moss. I started counting the rows past the tree. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

“They’re at the other end of this row,” I said. “Fifth from the end.”

She nodded and followed as I led. As we neared, it was obvious that while I hadn’t been in a long time, my parent’s grave was well cared for. A moat of flowers surrounded the black marble headstone. Engraved on it, and inlaid with gold, were my parent’s names and it bore the inscription that Vicky had picked. She’d asked me what I thought of it at the time, but I’d been too caught up in my own grief and too busy blaming myself for what happened to really care.