my desecration my will my bones my soul my path that I have chosen I did it my way and you can take nothing from me now you can take nothing
Annabel
I slept well. That was the first thing that crossed my mind when I woke up. The cat was calling me from the bottom of the stairs, and I was wide awake instantly, sitting up on the side of the bed looking at the weak sunshine lighting up the branches of the tree in my back garden. I’d slept well, and for a change I felt positive, ready to face things. Ready to do whatever needed to be done.
It was nearly eight o’clock. I got dressed quickly and went down to feed Lucy, who trotted happily in front of me to the kitchen, tail raised in a neat question mark.
By nine, I was back in the shopping centre car park. It was a much nicer day. Overhead, a bright blue sky was spotted with freshly laundered white cotton clouds, and the rain in the night had made everything look glossy. The little angel that dangled from my rear-view mirror sparkled and danced.
I felt none of it. I felt nothing but the instinctive need to carry on, to put one foot in front of the other, to carry on completing one task at a time, one day at a time, until it all came to some sort of end. I felt so tired, all of a sudden. So completely drained.
My mobile phone rang just as I was locking the car. It was Andy Frost. He hesitated after the initial condolences.
‘Just – just wanted to say, take as long as you need. I’d like to keep in touch, to check you’re OK. And if there’s anything we can do…’
I tried to listen, tried to pay attention, but I kept thinking that I had something important to do and this phone conversation was keeping me from it. ‘I suppose I should come back to work,’ I said, hoping that would shut him up.
‘No, you should take more time, really. At least a fortnight. It’s all down as compassionate leave, you don’t need to worry.’
‘Alright,’ I said.
‘It’s fine, Annabel,’ he went on. ‘We can manage. We need you to come back when you’re ready, not before.’
I bit my lip. They’d replaced me, I thought. Drafted in one of the other analysts, maybe even Kate, to do all the work. It was my job! They wouldn’t have had a clue where to start with it if it hadn’t been for my spreadsheet. Well, let them get on with it. It wasn’t my problem, now, was it?
‘Sure,’ I said.
‘So you don’t need to worry about a thing. We’re working our way through it, don’t worry.’
‘You don’t need me,’ I said. It was a statement of fact.
‘Annabel, we’ll be fine. Much as I like to think we can wrap something like this up overnight, it will still be here when you’re ready to come back. Alright?’
I hung up and something strange happened. I stood still and waited, and after a few moments I felt calm, the resentment and feeling of frustration draining away. I had this idea that I should be more upset, more concerned about the phone call, but already I could barely remember what he’d been saying. I was too tired to focus on it. And then even thinking about it felt like an exhausting effort.
There was something that I had to do. As I walked towards the shopping precinct and the office of the funeral director, a rainbow sparkled bright against the grey concrete buildings. It felt like a sign, something positive, something to cling to.
Colin
I rang work early and told them I was taking the morning off, and then I went to the precinct as planned, to meet the new one. She was easier than I thought she would be – acquiescent, and ripe, changed greatly since I’d seen her in the supermarket on Tuesday evening. Bereavement, of course. Often it’s that. While I was waiting for her I called in at the Co-op, bought a copy of the paper and some milk.
She was waiting for me outside the funeral director’s. I thought she’d said she had an appointment but if this was true she’d forgotten all about it. It was an annoyance because I’d been hoping for some time to myself to read the newspaper – but that would have to wait. She told me where she lived and I followed her