The congregation acceded with whispers and nods.
“I will always love him. I will always remember him. And I will always aspire to be like him.
“Rest in peace, Dad. I feel blessed that you are still a part of us when I see those barrels of wine and when I drink our famous Cabernet.”
Frankie’s quiet sobs accompanied her son’s words.
“I would like to end off by playing a song that meant so much to my parents. My mother has asked me to thank you, on her behalf, for your love and support over this trying time.”
As the song began, Jen rushed out of the hall. She had come to pay her last respects, and this had been accomplished without too much discomfort. She ran through the foyer and straight into the book club girls, who were preparing tea and eats for the mourners.
“Jen!” Shelley enthused unconvincingly. “You’re here. How are you?”
“Hi, everyone,” Jen said uncomfortably. “Terrible tragedy, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Patricia agreed. “Such a tragic thing to happen.”
“What’s also pretty tragic,” Shelley interrupted, “is your absence. Could you not find it in your heart to reach out to your friend?”
Anne added her two cents’ worth. “No matter what you’re going through, which quite frankly we think is a whole load of shit, the least you could do◦– the right thing to do◦– would be to put your angst aside, not only for Lee’s memory, but for Frankie, your supposed best friend.”
“You’re right,” Jen said. “It is absolutely unforgivable, at face value. But honestly, ladies, having known me for so long, do you really think I’d stay away unless something very serious had happened?”
They were silent. Patricia stopped arranging the cocktail sandwiches and Anne raised her eyebrows. They loved a good story and it seemed they were going to get the scandal they craved.
“What could be so bad that you couldn’t be here for Frankie?”
Jen looked at Shelley and said, “You and I never really had a real friendship, did we? We’re friends because of our husbands. You’ve always held a grudge, because you think I stole John from you. Well, the good news, Shelley, is that I inadvertently saved you from John.”
She then turned to Anne. “As for you, Anne, it seems as if you have finally found an ‘in’ in the group, now that I’m leaving.”
“Leaving book club?” Anne asked.
“No, Anne. John.”
Their mouths dropped open at her candour.
“There, that should give you something to skinner about! God knows, your lives would be pretty dull if you didn’t have something or someone to talk about. I’m sure that you wouldn’t care to phone me. But you know my number, if you do decide to find it in your hearts to ‘reach out’.” She looked at Shelley. “To quote you, Shelley.”
Jen strode out, tears streaming down her cheeks. She had said goodbye to Lee, her friend and silent ally, and she had said goodbye to her girlfriends, who at one time had meant the world to her◦– who she had thought had made her life worthwhile.
She drove directly to the farm to collect her belongings. True to form, efficient Gladys had Jen’s suitcases packed and ready at the front door. With the help of one of the farm labourers, they loaded them into her four-wheel drive. Jen would be happy to trade in her car for a zippier model better suited to the city’s traffic. But for now, she was glad to have the boot space.
Gladys seemed to be more upset than anyone else at the idea of Jen leaving.
“I’m going to miss you, Gladys,” Jen said, hugging her. “I don’t think you realise quite what you mean to me. I would never have managed without you. You’ve always been a constant help. Thank you so much.”
Gladys hugged her back hard.
Jen pulled an envelope from her bag and gave it to Gladys with both hands. “Here’s something for you, for all that you’ve done for me.” It was filled with money, all of John’s winnings. She also handed Gladys two small boxes, each containing a gold coin.
She didn’t wait for Gladys to thank her. She didn’t want to be thanked. She wished that she could have given her so much more. And one day, she vowed, she would.
Jen drove out of town with her music blaring. Her phone’s playlist was on shuffle and the song that wafted through her speakers first was ‘Figure 8’ by Ellie Goulding. The lyrics reminded her of her passionate one-night stand with Lee.
She wondered what her life would have been like if she had married him. Until now, she had never allowed herself to entertain these thoughts. The only way to survive her marriage◦– and be happy◦– had been to block out the could-haves and the should-haves. But the song was so haunting and full of love and pathos that she allowed her mind to stray to that night.
She accelerated down the highway, listening to the song playing full blast, over and over again. The tears streaked her face. It was such a beautiful memory. Why had she been so hell-bent on trying to forget it? But then she smiled. There was no need to any more. She was free to remember and to recall every moment.
They had fallen asleep on the back of Lee’s truck, waking as the sun began to rise. Realising what she had done had filled her with such remorse she’d started crying. Lee had taken her in his arms and kissed every part of her face: her eyes, her ears, her forehead, her cheeks and finally her mouth. He whispered the exact words of the chorus of this song◦– “I need you”◦– repeatedly, trying to persuade her that what had happened between them was something special, something to be treasured.
“Remembering is just as important as forgetting,” she thought out loud.
Secretly, she hoped that Brigit was Lee’s child◦– a testament to their young love.
Thirty-five
John joined everyone for tea and cake in the foyer after the service, greeting the people he knew and making the polite chit-chat that one does. He had caught a glimpse of Patty making an exit from the memorial service soon after Frankie’s song had started playing. Jen had also left without giving her condolences. He was livid. She could have at least sympathised with Clive and Lee’s parents.
Frankie’s friends had organised a substantial spread and the mourners were milling around with cups in one hand and plates in the other.
“We just caught Jen sneaking out.”
John turned around, his mouth full of cake, to see Shelley, hands on hips, looking like a school mistress.
He swallowed. “She needed to go somewhere.”
“She said that she’s leaving you. That she did me a favour by stealing you from me. Apparently, she saved me from you. What did you do this time, John Pearce?”
What the fuck? He didn’t know what to say. He was hardly ever at a loss for words, but this had stumped him. Shelley waited for him to say something. It was as if he had to give her some explanation for not handing in a homework assignment.
“Well, then,” he said, downing the last of his coffee, “it seems you know more than me.” He handed the mug and the plate to her, and then kissed her condescendingly on the cheek.
Shelley visibly seethed.
“You’re such a chauvinist. I’m not here to clean up after you. If you wanted me to do that for you, you should’ve married me.” She shoved his plate and mug back into his hands.
John scanned the foyer to see if anyone was looking, then leaned in closer to her and whispered in her ear, “I’ve lived with that regret all my life, Shelley.” He gently bit on her earlobe, teasing her with his tongue. “If Jen goes, then who knows?”
He winked at her and left her gawping after him as he sauntered across the room to find a place to dump his dirty dishes.