it for Charlotte. ‘Here you are darling. This is the newspaper from the day Dad died.’ It’s the sort of thing my mum would suggest! The seat has been moved back. I remember somebody moved it to let the ambulance out - I just parked it and ran in.
I move the seat forward and adjust the mirror and I start to sweat because I can see it again–what I came home to. I can see it in my rear-view mirror. I can see him lying on the floor and the smell of sex in the room and the paramedics and police and her standing there shivering. I don't want the world to know, except I feel it's all about to spill it out, that any day now the truth will be told, that I’ll be the talk of the village...
I’m the talk of it now, mind.
‘Lucy!’ I’m wrapped in the bony embrace of Ricky the second I step in the salon. ‘I’m so sorry.’ I’m taken straight to a chair and there’s one of the mums from Charlotte’s school there and she gives me a sort of pussy cat smile but her eyes are narrowed at the sides and I can see her reaching for her phone – I can just picture the text she’ll be firing, how I’m up and I’m out, when presumably, I should be in bed sedated.
At least Ricky understands. ‘Good on you, Lucy,’ he says. ‘I’m so proud of you for taking care of yourself.’
‘It’s what he’d have wanted.’ I say it loud enough for her to hear and I look up to the mirror and I see her hesitate before she smiles and agrees with me.
Ricky is great, he doesn’t ask questions; he just makes me a coffee and lets me be. I do actually feel a whole lot better by the time he takes the cape off and I stand up.
There’s another mum from the school coming in as I’m paying. I see her do a double take when she realises that it’s me, then she remembers her manners and offers her sympathy and asks when the funeral is but I pretend I’m about to cry and dash out.
I haven’t cried yet.
I did on the night it happened but I was crying then with anger and shame.
I haven’t cried for him yet.
I go to a boutique that I really like but they don’t have anything suitable in black and so I go into another one. I find a dress, it’s thin wool and it really is lovely, perhaps a tiny bit low cut for a funeral but I think it would be okay.
‘It’s a bit big,’ the assistant says. ‘I think you need the eight.’ She wanders off and comes back with a red one.
‘It’s for a funeral.’
‘Try on the eight,’ she says. ‘I’ll ring around and see if we’ve got it in black in another store.’
I try it on and I’m not so sure - it’s gone from demure to a bit tight and I walk out to see what the assistant thinks when, again, I hear my name.
‘Lucy!’
They’re everywhere! It’s Simone and she sees me in brick red dress coming out of a changing room in a boutique with my hair just done. ‘You poor thing!’ She hugs me too but not in the nice way Ricky did, with Simone it’s a minimal contact hug, the air kiss hug I call it, one where you make sure you don’t get any make up on each other, or horse hair, or trade perfume or anything. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I heard. It’s such a shock.’
‘I know,’ I respond. ‘It’s just a terrible shock for everyone. Charlotte’s beside herself.’
So why aren’t you with her? Simone doesn’t say it but I know that’s what she’s thinking.
Everything that I do seems to be wrong
Everything I say seems deemed inappropriate.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to be.
‘I was going to bring Felicity over to see Charlotte,’ she says, ‘but I wasn’t sure you were up to visitors.’ She sort of looks down at me, at my red dress with the label hanging out. ‘You let me know when you’re ready. Just let me know if there’s anything I can do.’
‘It would be great if Felicity came over,’ I say. The shop’s too hot and the dress is too warm and I feel horrible and sweaty. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say, how I’m supposed to be but I know that Charlotte needs her