Now she would have to stay.
So she listened, and she stood and sat when they asked her to. She sang a hymn, or at least mouthed the words. And as she sat there, something came over her. Grief. She hadn’t mourned Faith’s passing. Not really. She had wanted to remain strong for Ben. But now, thinking of Rose, she let it all come out. Rose, this woman she had hated, who had hated her. Rose, who she had developed respect for, knew it had been reciprocated. Rose, who had died in her house.
She began to cry. Torrents of tears, flooding from her body. An unstoppable flow. She didn’t scream, didn’t cry, just let them come. Sat there, on her own, hunched forward, crying. For Rose. For Faith. For Ben. For what she had done with her life.
And then it was time to leave. Donna stood with the rest of them, tried to duck out. But couldn’t quite move. She took a deep breath. Another. And felt cleansed. Purging the grief from her system had made her feel clear- headed.
Don came alongside her. ‘How are you bearing up?’
Donna tried to smile. ‘OK,’ she said, her voice small and wet.
Eileen passed her a tissue. ‘Take it, I’ve got plenty.’
Donna thanked her, took it.
They walked out of the church together.
‘We’re… we’re going back home,’ said Don. ‘There’s a proper reception for Rose. But we’re not going.’
‘No,’ said Donna.
‘Would you like to come with us?’ asked Eileen. ‘Have a bit of lunch?’
Donna thought of their house. How warm it was, how safe it felt. And she was tempted. Very tempted.
She shook her head. ‘Thanks. But no. I’ve got to… ’
‘OK,’ said Don. ‘But you’re welcome any time. Any time at all. You’ve got our number, give us a ring. Let’s get together.’
Donna nodded. ‘Thank you.’ Turned and walked away.
Out of the dark and into the daylight.
134
The table was laid, the chicken roasting in the oven, the wine bottles open. Don, beer in hand, took over the kitchen on a Sunday, wouldn’t let anyone else in. Insisted on doing the whole thing himself. Phil and Marina, exiled to the living room with their glasses of wine, joined Eileen, who was playing with Josephina on her mat.
An almost stereotypically happy family Sunday scene.
But the picture was distorted. Disguising just how difficult the last few weeks had been.
For all of them.
When Phil had recovered consciousness and was lying in a hospital bed, he had opened his eyes to find Marina by his side.
‘Hey,’ he had managed.
‘Hey yourself,’ she had replied.
He had felt good seeing her there, like it had all been worthwhile. And then he had drifted off again.
A few days later, he was up and talking. Mickey had been to see him, filled him in on what had happened; Don and Eileen too. And Marina. Always Marina.
They had sent him home with his arm strapped up and instructions to take it easy. He couldn’t do anything else. But although his body wasn’t responding, his mind was. And there were things he needed to talk about.
‘How’s Finn?’ he had asked Marina, the night after he had been discharged from hospital. Sitting in an armchair in the living room, the Decemberists playing, drinking wine. Trying to relax. Not doing a good job of it.
Marina had looked up from her book. ‘He’s fine,’ she had said. ‘He’s been reunited with his mother. We’ve got him counselling. We’re getting all of them counselling. They’re going to need it.’
Phil took a mouthful of wine.
‘D’you think you did the right thing?’
‘What d’you mean?’
Phil could tell from the look on her face that she knew exactly what he meant. It was what he had wanted to talk to her about since he had come round in hospital. And she had been expecting it.
‘Down in the chamber. You encouraged Finn to kill Glass.’
‘He was going to do it anyway. Or try. What could I do?’
‘He’s a damaged boy, Marina. What you allowed him to do could make him even worse. Unreachable, even.’
‘Things weren’t that simple, Phil, and you know it. What was I supposed to do? Tell him that I knew what he was about to do but strongly advise him not to do it? And then let Glass kill all of us?’
‘But… ’
‘No, Phil. No buts. He’d just watched you kill the Gardener. He did the same thing to Glass. It wasn’t a situation where middle-class morality applied.’
Phil said nothing.
‘Finn will recover,’ Marina said, leaning towards him over the arm of the sofa. ‘We’ll make sure he gets the best help he can. We’ll allow him the time to get better. He’s confronted the worst thing in his life and faced it down. Now, with help, he’ll hopefully be able to go on and lead as normal a life as possible.’
‘But what about what happened to him in that room? In the Garden?’
‘Remembered as a bad dream. Hopefully. Like what happened to you.’
Phil took a sip of wine.
‘Like what happened to me,’ he said. Took another sip. ‘Hopefully.’
‘Dinner in about ten minutes,’ said Don now, popping his head round the door.
They all acknowledged his words.
Marina looked across at Phil.
She was getting him back. She was sure of it. Slowly. But he was coming back to her.
It had been difficult. Of course it had. And although she could empathise with him, she couldn’t imagine what he had gone through. But he was accepting things. Moving on. Getting his life back together.
And she was so glad she was still a part of it.
She looked down at Josephina playing with Eileen. The little girl laughed at something Eileen did, then looked at Phil to see his reaction. He laughed too. Marina saw tears in the corners of his eyes. Saw the smile linger on his lips, reluctant to go. Knew how much love that man had in his heart.
Yes.
His arm was healing. She was sure he was healing inside too.
She was getting him back.
They sat round the table, food laid out before them. All hungry, all ready to start.
‘Before we dive in,’ said Phil, ‘I just want to say something.’
Silence fell. Don and Eileen risked a look between them.
‘It’s been a funny few weeks, hasn’t it?’ said Phil.
No one spoke.
‘I just wanted to say… ’ he looked at Don and Eileen, ‘thank you. For everything.’
Don started to say something; Phil kept going, talked over the top of him.
‘Sorry, Don, you’ll get your turn in a moment. I’ve thought long and hard about this, and I want to say it while it’s still fresh in my head. What you two did for me… ’ he looked at them again, ‘I can’t thank you enough. I can
