It All Started With You, page 25
‘Gloves, my lovely. Rubber ones with olive oil in. And a sprinkle of salt. Wear ’em to bed.’
Oh, Alex will love that. He’ll make all these pervy jokes about rubber and fetishes and before I know it, it’ll be all round the police station, and they’ll all drive round here just to point their fingers and laugh at me.
‘You all right, duck?’ She’s frowning at me.
Then I realise, I’ve gone off on one of my paranoid excursions. For the first time in ages. A few weeks in the shop and the stress is getting to me – but then it is Christmas and I am spending it with my boyfriend’s family for the first time. I’m looking forward to it, but at the same time, I’m slightly worried.
38
Just before Christmas, I get the best news. Cosmo’s being transferred to Briarwood, which is fantastic. He must be so much better, if they’re actually letting him out of hospital. I can’t wait to see Lulubelle.
I take her a Christmas wreath because I don’t suppose she’s even thought about Christmas this year, and just hang it on her front door. It’s bespoke, with heather and dried hydrangea in there and I’ve also brought her a bouquet of narcissi, the little scented white ones that are called Cheerfulness, because they make you believe that winter can’t go on forever.
It’s one of those gorgeous crisp mornings as I walk to Lulubelle’s, the air sharp and leaves crunchy underfoot. A perfect winter day. If only they were all like this.
But when she opens the door, she looks as though she’s been crying.
A hand like an iron vice clutches my heart. ‘Are you okay?’
She just nods as more tears stream down her face.
Reaching out a hand, I touch her arm. ‘Lulubelle? What’s wrong? I thought he was getting better. He’s going to Briarwood, isn’t he?’
‘Oh, Frankie…’
I follow her into the sitting room, puzzled. I don’t understand why she’s so distraught.
‘Sit down a minute,’ she tells me.
Taking a deep breath and bracing herself, she looks at me.
‘He isn’t going to Briarwood because he’s better, Frankie. They can’t do any more for him in the hospital…’ But she breaks off because her face is wet with tears and her shoulders are heaving. Then as I dash over and throw my arms round her, she howls – a hideous, raw sound that comes from the deepest part of her.
Very slowly the truth filters in, that Cosmo’s going to Briarwood because he’s dying.
39
I spend Christmas Day with Alex’s family who are so lovely and welcoming. The house is charmingly decorated with spruce and holly and candles, and a massive Christmas tree with presents piled underneath. There are ten of us round their huge oval dining table and I make them laugh with carefully censored bridezilla tales, but it’s the high point of the most surreal roller coaster, as later, I go to see Cosmo.
At Briarwood too, it’s bursting with colour – and love. I’ve known for a long time what an extraordinary place it is, but now, watching as Cosmo succumbs to his illness, I’m truly astonished.
The truth, quite simply, is that every single person in here cares. From the highest up nurse to the guy who empties the bins and washes the floors – and absolutely everyone understands. Cosmo’s every need is met, with no shortage of kind faces or soft voices when he has brief spells of consciousness, the quietest, gentlest care when he’s sleeping, while Lulubelle is bolstered by an invisible force field of support. It’s awe-inspiring.
I hold myself together while I’m there with her, then go home to Alex and cry my heart out on his shoulder. Then the next day, do it all over again. Though in between, other parts of life try to tick along as usual.
For example, Honey calls. ‘We’d love you and Alex to come for dinner. When are you free?’ Which is so different to the orders she used to bark at me.
Fuck, I think, remembering Honey’s dinner parties of old. ‘Love to,’ is what I say to her, because things have changed and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
I just hope it’s not with a load of her stuffy friends, but of course it won’t be, because this time they’re mine too. Nina and Will, Charlie and Mark – and us. And she doesn’t try to be a killjoy, plus she’s decorated the house with her own gorgeous flower arrangements.
‘These are really stunning,’ I tell her. ‘You’ll have to take on some of the weddings.’ I frown. ‘Abigail Culleton,’ I tell her, feeling a lead weight lift. ‘All yours.’
She flushes pink with pleasure. ‘Do you really think I’m good enough?’
And I nod – because she is.
The week after Christmas flies by and the start of another year looms just around the corner. This year we’re all at Nina’s to see it in – all of us, except Lulubelle.
There’s the strangest feeling in the air that morning, as I go for a run. The sun is rising, and glancing up, I see clouds the shape of angel wings, lit a delicate gold in the dawn sky. Somehow I know it’s a sign.
I go over to Briarwood that afternoon and in the car park, bump into Maria and Pete. He’s got his arm round her and she’s wiping away tears.
‘Are you just going up there?’ says Pete, on the verge of tears himself. ‘Only, it’s not good, Frankie. Not good at all. She sent us away. Said she wanted us to remember how he used to be, not… Poor little mite. Makes you think, doesn’t it, why it can’t be a hairy old bloke like me instead of a kid.’
‘So he’s worse?’ I whisper, terrified of the answer.
Maria nods.
‘He’s just slipping away,’ says Pete, the tears rolling down his face. ‘God. What the hell’s she going to do? What are we all going to do?’
I nip up the stairs as fast as I can and find his room, creeping over to stand beside Lulubelle. Only when I’ve been in there a few minutes do I realise how quiet it is, and why. Every last machine has been switched off. Unable to speak because of the lump in my throat, all I can do is clutch her hand.
I leave her just once, briefly, to text Alex. It’s not a decision I make consciously, I just know. New Year’s Eve or not, I’m not leaving without her. I don’t care how long we’re here, but unless the miracle happens and somehow he turns a corner, for as long as she’s holding his hand, I’ll be here holding hers.
As we sit, leaning against each other, I watch his chest rising, the movement so slight, it’s barely visible, as though he’s gone already and all that’s left is his frail, empty body, slowly, gradually shutting down. I wonder just how many hours she’s spent here over the years. Willing with her incredible strength, breathing her life force into him, anything to make him better, which worked before, just for some inexplicable reason, not this time.
At one point she says, ‘You can go if you like, Frankie. I’ll be fine.’
But I know she won’t be. How can she be? I shake my head. ‘Only if you want me to.’
Silently, we keep our vigil, our eyes on Cosmo, drinking in the detail of his hair, his skin, his hand curled in his mother’s. Last precious moments burned onto my mind forever. On the wall behind us, the clock is ticking, but for us, time has become meaningless. All that exists is Cosmo.
And that’s how the year comes to an end. In the last minutes, as Cosmo’s breathing slows, then stops altogether, a light goes out forever.
40
My memories of what follows are shaky. I must have called Alex, who called Pete, because when we left Briarwood several hours later, they were waiting patiently in the car park. I learn there are no right, no wrong things to do. For now, all that matters is Lulubelle, for whom life has become a living hell.
Ironically, the shop becomes a refuge of sorts, where I can lose myself in the mad world of wedding fever, but I’m infinitely glad Honey’s there to take the strain, which she happily does – only she soon realises what she’s up against.
‘That bloody woman phones every Tuesday morning without fail,’ she tells me. ‘About the most trivial detail that I really don’t need to know.’
I nod knowingly. ‘Mrs Culleton?’
Honey looks at me astonished. ‘How did you know?’
But it’s not just her. A new year always begins with an influx of rabid brides – not the foaming-at-the-mouth rabid, but the sort that can’t talk about anything else and to whom the tiniest detail suddenly takes on earth-shattering importance – Willow being a case in point.
‘Yours from the very start,’ I tell Honey. ‘There’s nothing like a baptism of fire, after all. She’s having nine bridesmaids and the parents are divorced, which always complicates things, plus she’s as bossy as you are – sorry, used to be.’ Which, all in all, should make things interesting – for me and Skye, at least.
It takes just one meeting to have Honey tearing her hair out. ‘The wedding’s August and she’s read in some magazine that you can get any flowers you want any time of year, if you pay for it. So she wants narcissi and peonies – in August, Frankie,’ Honey cries. ‘What am I going to do?’
‘Tell her no,’ I say calmly, realising that actually, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter, does it? ‘She’ll have to have something else.’
‘But she might find another florist,’ wails Honey.
‘She’ll never find one who’ll give her narcissi and peonies in August, and if they tell her they can, they’re lying. What I’d do is show her David Austin roses and stephanotis. She won’t be able to tell the difference.’
It’s starting all over again. The same that happened to me. The madness that consumes you once you start letting the pressure get to you and I don’t want to go there again. Not ever. There’s more to life than weddings. I just need to make sure Honey realises that.
The days that follow, I spend with Lulubelle, just getting her through each day. I make her meals, sit in Cosmo’s bedroom with her, look at all her photos dozens of times, hold her tightly when she cries. My heart feels like it’s broken into thousands of pieces, but I know it’s nothing compared to her pain. And all the time, though I don’t tell her, I can’t shake the feeling that Cosmo’s here. In her cottage. That, even though we can’t see him, his presence is all around us. Sometimes, I even think I can hear him, feeling him grab my hand, trying to drag me outside for a game of football. Then a few days later, the strangest thing happens.
‘He’s gone,’ Lulubelle says, when I get there. She looks pale and strained and utterly exhausted.
‘You’ll think I’m mad, Frankie, but the last few days, he’s been here. I’ve felt him everywhere around me, everywhere I go. So strongly that I couldn’t believe I couldn’t touch him. Yesterday when I woke up and came downstairs, the TV was switched on. To his favourite channel. I didn’t do that. I went back to bed and he was there, curled against me. I felt his hair tickle my face, I could smell him, but when I woke up again, he’d gone.’ She sounds frantic and utterly broken, as her loss hits her anew, yet again; a distraught look in her eyes as she stands there. ‘He’s gone, Frankie. What do I do now?’ she whispers, then kind of crumples.
There’s nothing I can say, so I just hold her, tightly, for as long it takes.
I see the angel wings again, unmistakeable, a shimmer of gold in the evening sky and I know that as Lulubelle said, Cosmo has left us.
In the days that come, Lulubelle oscillates between awe-inspiring fortitude and the darkest depths. There are times I fear that she’s lost the will to live.
‘It hurts Frankie… like I’ve been torn open and someone’s ripped out my heart. I should be with him. He’s alone. What if he’s frightened? Or there’s no one with him to hold his hand or hug him?’
Her huge, tormented eyes show her anguish – but even in her blackest moments, somehow, whether it’s one of those memories she’s stored away or something more instinctual, she finds a shred of something to cling to.
Cosmo’s funeral is in the same church where Pete and Maria were married. Lulubelle asks me to put a few flowers in there, so Skye and I take the earliest spring flowers – snowdrops, daffodils, primroses wound together with moss and twigs. The service is simple, the church packed with people crammed in, standing at the back. After, everyone drifts away to Pete and Maria’s.
The mood is sombre, but there’s no positive side to a child dying. Lulubelle holds up magnificently, and when it’s over, Alex and I offer her a lift home, but she refuses. ‘I’m staying here for a bit,’ she says, starting to wobble. ‘I’ve got to think. But I’ll call you.’
Across the room, Pete’s watching her. He winks at me and I realise it’s his turn now, to keep an eye on her.
After Cosmo’s funeral, I go for a walk. Alone. I hadn’t known what to write when I left my posy of snowdrops on his grave, but now, under a velvet sky full of stars, it comes to me. I want to thank him. For showing me that life is full of love and hope and goodness, even when there’s the most unbearable sadness. And those, more than money and fame and celebrity, are what make people precious. Glancing up at the stars, I wonder if he’s looking down on us, his spirit borne by those golden wings, finally free.
41
The beauty of life is that it carries on regardless, whether or not we want it to. And knowing Cosmo has changed me forever, I know that. Not just me either – but my friends. Look at Honey, training hard for the half-marathon between weddings and pinning down all her wealthy lawyer friends to sponsor her. She’s on target to raise about twenty grand for Briarwood. Then there’s Skye, who’s already offered to help out at their next fundraiser. Even Charlie’s got her airline involved raising funds. And all of it’s because of him.
As February begins, we get together at the pub. It’s the first time we’ve managed it this year and the mood is sober. There’s me, Nina, Charlie, Mark and Honey, because Johnny’s working late, Will’s away on a course and Alex is staking out a warehouse where they think something dodgy’s going on. He won’t tell me what, which is quite annoying.
We sit round a table with long faces. No one’s in the mood for joking – and it almost feels as though we shouldn’t be here. Then suddenly, across the pub, I see them.
‘Oh my God!’ I mutter, nudging Honey’s arm so she spills her drink.
‘Frankie.’ She sounds annoyed. ‘Look what you’ve done.’
‘Sshh…’ I tell her. ‘Over by the bar. Look.’
As she turns to stare, I giggle. I can’t help it. It’s Ryan, with a spammy new haircut and a blue T-shirt with ‘hers’ emblazoned on the front. He’s with a girl who’s also wearing a blue T-shirt, only hers says ‘his’. Both of them look about twelve and they’re holding hands and gazing adoringly at each other, completely oblivious to the rest of us. Honey snorts.
Just like that, we’re all overcome with loud, hysterical laughter. It’s a release for our tension, which we badly need. Honey and I laugh so much that tears are pouring down our cheeks and Nina and Charlie get the joke too, even though they don’t know Ryan like we do. Only Mark looks slightly puzzled.
‘You’re mad, all of you,’ says Mark. ‘Shall I get more drinks?’
Charlie glances at us all. ‘Champagne, girls?’
And somehow, we manage a cheer. Then we drink a toast to Cosmo, and another to life.
I don’t hear from Lulubelle for days and in the end, I call Maria.
‘I’m so glad you called.’ She sounds worried. ‘She’s not sleeping too well and is talking about going away. On her own, Frankie – I’m not sure it’s what she needs.’
‘Would it be okay if I came over?’
‘Would you? Come any time you like. She doesn’t go anywhere, just sits in the garden for hours on end, gazing into nowhere.’
Before I go, I decide there’s something I must take her. It doesn’t take long to find what I need, but it’s perfect for her. Then that afternoon, I make my way over to Maria’s, in Honey’s rather smart Audi because she says they need the van at the shop. In fact, these days, we’ve pretty much swapped as she’s taken on most of the day-to-day running of the business.
Even in chilly February this place is beautiful, in a wild, Wuthering Heights kind of way. There are tangles of sparse branches and a raw wind whipping through the garden – but there are little green shoots coming up amongst the decaying leaves, the promise of spring not too far away.
Maria lets me in and embraces me warmly. ‘Thank you so much for coming over here.’
‘I’m glad to, I’m really worried about her.’
She leads me over to a window, nodding towards the garden. ‘So are we. She’s over there.’
Going outside, I close the door behind me and wander over to my friend, who’s sitting huddled in a blanket gazing into space.
Gently I touch her shoulder. ‘Hey…’
‘Frankie? Oh Frankie…’ Her face seems to crumple.
I give her the little posy I’ve made specially for her, of rosemary for remembrance, bay for strength and anemone for the fleeting nature of life. Then I reach down and hug her. She looks so lost. I don’t know what I was expecting, because it’s such early days, but even if it wasn’t, you don’t get over something like this. Just, somehow, with time, you find a place for it.
‘How are you doing?’ I say softly.
‘I’m okay.’ Her voice is quiet, but steady.
‘They’re worried about you,’ I tell her. ‘Maria and Pete. So is everyone.’
‘I know they are – but they shouldn’t be. I’m just trying to… work things out, I suppose. You see…’ She hesitates.
‘What?’ I sit down on the bench next to her.
‘It’s weird, Frankie.’ A tear rolls down her cheek. ‘To begin with, all I wanted was to be in that hole in the ground with him, with him curled in my arms for eternity. I seriously thought about it. Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything stupid. It would be wrong.’ She breaks off again, frowning slightly. ‘You see, I’m figuring it out. Some lives are short. Shorter than Cosmo’s even. But you don’t judge a life by how long it is. It’s what someone leaves behind that counts. The years I had with him, he gave me more than I can ever describe. He touched so many lives, Frankie – you saw it. And we’re all different, because of him. It’s quite a legacy from seven short years – which is why I have to go on.’ Her eyes are bright with tears but she’s calm. ‘I’m going away for a while. I need to get away from here. I’ve got a friend in Goa who’s offered me their beach house for as long as I want it. I know there are people round here who’ll gossip about how I could leave his grave.’ She bites her lip.
