Time to Say Goodbye: a heart-rending novel about a father’s love for his daughter. S.D. Robertson
family’s pillar of strength. So watching him lose control like that – so vulnerable, so human – was horrendous.
I don’t know whether my body was burned straight afterwards or not. Previously, I’d worried that I might somehow feel the flames eating away at my flesh, but such fears paled into insignificance once I witnessed my family’s suffering. Whenever the cremation did happen, I wasn’t aware of it. I felt no physical sensation at all.
Arthur found me as the others were getting ready to head back to my parents’ house for the wake. I was still sitting on the front pew, shell-shocked. ‘The worst is over now, lad,’ he said gently. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Dreadful. Totally drained. That was far worse than I expected. Seeing them all like that, I can’t help blaming myself for what happened. I keep thinking that if I’d not taken my bike that day, or if I’d left a couple of minutes earlier, or if I’d worn a cycle helmet—’
‘Stop. Don’t do that to yourself. It wasn’t your fault. Sometimes terrible things happen. You can’t beat yourself up about it. That won’t change anything and it won’t help anyone. Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll take you to the wake.’
He made to grab my hand, but I stopped him. ‘Wait. Is there any chance we could go somewhere else first? Somewhere peaceful where I can get my head together.’
‘Of course,’ he said. I blinked and we were back on the bench overlooking the churchyard where he’d found me earlier. ‘How’s this?’
‘Perfect. Thank you.’
‘No problem. Listen, I have to go now. I’ve got some business I need to attend to. Can you manage to make your own way to your parents’ house?’
‘Oh, um … yes, it’s only a two-minute walk. But I was hoping to talk with you some more. I’ve got a million questions.’
‘Another day. Give me a shout. And well done, lad. I mean that.’
‘Thanks. How do I—’
Before I could finish, Arthur had gone.
‘Great,’ I said. ‘Another one with the sudden exits.’
I stayed on the bench, enjoying the silence, for some time. My mind drifted back to Alice’s funeral again. I wondered if she had been around like this – watching me grieve and beg forgiveness for how I’d betrayed her – or whether she’d moved on straight away. I still missed her terribly. I remembered the raw pain I’d felt at the time; the hopelessness and sense of injustice. Was that how my family were feeling now?
My pain over losing Alice had never gone away. I’d gradually learned to cope with it and the initial angry intensity had faded, but going through that wasn’t something I’d wish on my worst enemy. It was caring for Ella that had kept me together. At the time, having to cope with that on top of everything else had seemed impossibly unfair. But that routine – that purpose – was what stopped me falling into a bottomless pit of hopelessness and self-pity. I realized that a part of my wife was able to live on through Ella. Her appearance and many little things she did reminded me of Alice: from the way her nose crinkled up when she laughed to the stubborn streak I could already see forming in her personality. She was an intelligent little girl too. I could picture her following in her mother’s footsteps as a dentist. That or some other equally prestigious career.
I was surprised – and touched – to see Alice’s parents in the congregation at my funeral. Margaret and Ron lived in Spain these days, so I hadn’t expected them to make the trip. Mind you, they’d always been good about keeping in touch with their granddaughter. They made an effort to see her at least twice a year and gave generous gifts on her birthday and at Christmas. She would never be as close to them as she was to my parents, but at least they were still in her life.
The sound of a car starting up jerked my mind back to the present. I’d assumed everyone from the funeral had gone by now and I’d not seen anyone visiting any of the graves, so I wondered who it might be. I stood up and walked to where the car park was visible. A black Audi with tinted windows was turning round. It looked like the same car I’d seen lingering outside my house the other day, which bothered me. Instinctively, I ran towards it.
Hey,’ I shouted. ‘Who are you? What do you want?’
But the car pulled away before I could reach it. I continued my pursuit as it stopped to turn on to the main road, but again it drove off before I caught up. I watched it disappear into the distance. ‘Damn,’ I said. ‘Who the hell is that?’
I headed to my parents’ place: the roomy four-bedroom detached house that I’d grown up in. It was located on a quiet, leafy street full of similar homes, all built in the early 1970s. There were lots of cars parked outside and I could see the silhouettes of countless visitors sipping drinks in the front room. The front door was shut, but at the back I found the patio doors open and Dad lighting a large cigar with his friend Larry, who lived two doors along.
‘The church service was lovely,’ Larry was saying. ‘A fitting send-off. Everyone said so. How did it go at the crematorium?’
‘Oh, you know,’ Dad replied, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. ‘As well as could be expected.’ He’d regained his composure but had a vacant, exhausted look about him. ‘Thanks for your help with the catering, Larry. Ann and I appreciate it.’
‘You’re welcome. Sylvia did most of the work, anyway. You’ll let us know if there’s anything else we can do, won’t you?’
‘Yes. Thanks. You’re good friends.’
‘Are you staying here tonight with Ella?’
‘That’s the plan. We’ll be moving her here full time in the next few days. We were concerned about uprooting her so soon, but we’ve had several chats with her and she seems okay about it. She’s stayed here plenty of times before and I think it helps knowing that her dad grew up here.’
‘Poor thing. First her mother and now her father. No child should have to go through that.’
‘I know. I’m amazed she’s coping as well as she is. God knows what’s going on inside that little head of hers.’
Larry nodded, slowly puffing on his cigar. ‘It only seems five minutes ago that Will was that age, asking for his ball from our garden. He was such a polite lad. Always had plenty to chat about. Ella’s the same, isn’t she? Sylvia and I were only saying the other day how well she talks. She’s a real credit to her father.’
‘She is that.’
‘Any news about what’s going to happen to the, um, driver?’
‘She’s been charged with causing death by dangerous driving. That’s good, as we had feared she might only face death by careless driving, which is less serious. But there’s still a long road ahead. She’ll only plead guilty to the lesser offence, so there will have to be a full trial. It could be a year before it gets to the crown court.’
‘A year? That’s ridiculous.’
‘It may be less, but I’m not holding my breath.’
‘Will she go to prison?’
‘If she’s found guilty. The top penalty’s fourteen years, although I doubt she’d get anything like that. It would be four years at the most, I reckon.’
I generally tried not to think about the crash and the woman who’d caused it, because it made my blood boil yet achieved nothing. Where was she today when my body was burning? I wondered. But I didn’t let the thought process go any further. Instead I moved inside, away from the conversation, and forced myself to refocus.
The dining room and lounge were bustling with people, which I found uncomfortable, especially since I was the topic on most of their lips. I darted into each room, carefully wending my way between bodies to avoid getting repelled, but Ella was nowhere to be seen. I could hear Mum’s voice coming from the kitchen, so I made that my next port of