How Laura Lewis Met Richard Brown

Chapter Thirty-Two

They made it as far as the playground when Richard suggested that they sit down. Laura said it was a good idea that they rest for a while on the bench opposite the swings, and so Richard placed the heavy cardboard box of letters at one end of the bench and they sat down next to each other, both of them staring into the distance, lost in thought.

Laura waited for Richard to speak. He obviously wanted to talk about Gertie, but his body language, and the fact that he wouldn’t look at her, suggested that he was finding it hard to formulate the words.

So, she waited.

Eventually, he spoke. His words came out disjointed and he spoke so quietly that she could barely hear him. ‘I saw her. I saw Gertie in my room last night. I thought it was a dream, but now . . .’

Laura gasped. What was he saying? That he had seen Gertie’s ghost? She didn’t believe in ghosts. Once you were gone, you were gone. Ghosts were only for stories. Ghosts could not harm you. Only the living could do that.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘That I’m mad, that it was only a dream, but it was real. She was real. She spoke to me.’ Richard caught his breath and his next words came out in one great gush. ‘She spoke to me and what she said was something that only she would say. It was her. It was real.’

‘I don’t think you’re mad,’ Laura told him gently. ‘Why would I think that?’ she asked. He was a man in the midst of grief. Of intense and raw pain. All she could do was listen to him. Be there for him. Allow him to talk and get those feelings out in the open. Off his chest.

Richard shook his head. ‘Because I’m telling you that my gran, who died—’ he stopped for a moment and rubbed his neck — ‘who died in the early hours of the morning, visited me at gone five this morning. She sat on the edge of my bed and I could see her as clearly as I can see you now, and she told me . . . well, it doesn’t matter what she told me. She told me something and then she kissed me, and then she was gone.’

‘Oh, Richard,’ Laura said. She stopped herself from reaching out to him. Stopped herself from placing a comforting hand on his, or touching his shoulder. Some people didn’t like to be touched. She didn’t know him well enough. She placed her hands over her bag which was on her lap. ‘I just think that must be so comforting for you. That you saw her.’

Richard turned to face her. ‘Really? You believe that?’

Laura nodded and shifted closer to him on the bench. ‘If you saw her and it gives you comfort, then that’s a good thing, isn’t it? That’s all that matters.’

Richard stared at her for a moment, as if trying to read her mind, before he looked away and shrugged. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. It doesn’t matter if it was real or not. All that matters is that it was real to me, that she was there and told me . . .’ His words trailed off.

Laura hoped that whatever Gertie had told him would bring him much comfort in the weeks and months to come.

Richard turned his attention to the box at the end of the bench. He stared at it for several seconds before he spoke. ‘Do you mind me asking who the letters are from?’

She looked at the box.

‘Are they letters from my grandfather? I never met him, but she spoke about Robbie a lot.’

Laura stared at the cardboard box and bit her tongue. She couldn’t tell him the whole truth. Gertie had confided in her. Had trusted her. This was Gertie’s story to tell, not hers, and she didn’t have her permission. So, she chose her words carefully, only telling him a half truth. She told herself she wasn’t lying.

‘There are letters from your grandfather,’ she said slowly, before adding, ‘but there are other letters. Private letters that she wanted me to have for safekeeping. I’m not sure if she would want you to read them.’ Laura opened her bag and pulled out the letter that Gertie had left in the bedroom. ‘I’ll read this and then maybe I’ll know more, but I’ll read it when I get home. If that’s all right with you.’

‘Of course,’ Richard said. ‘I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable and for what it’s worth, I’m very sorry about my behaviour yesterday.’

Laura’s smile was tinged with sadness. ‘I don’t think any of that matters now, do you?’

‘Yes,’ Richard said. ‘It does matter. I should never have gone behind your back. I don’t usually act in that way—’

‘Richard, let’s forget about it, move on.’ Laura needed that more than anything. She’d been dwelling in the past for far too long. Her conversation with Lottie had opened the floodgates, made her confront her past in a way she’d never done before. ‘It’s what Gertie would have wanted,’ she added.

He coughed and stretched his long legs out in front of him. ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘and for this. For being with me. It helps.’

‘I’m glad it helps. To be honest, you’re helping me too. I know I’ve only been here a short time, but I really felt like I knew her. She was more of a friend to me than many of my old friends back home.’

Richard turned his full attention on her and nodded. ‘She had that effect on people. She put you at your ease and was easy to talk to. She was so clever, so bloody clever, but she never made anyone feel stupid. She treated everyone as an equal.’

‘She did.’ Laura nodded. ‘She was a wonderful woman.’

The quiet of the moment was disturbed by the squealing of excitement coming from a toddler running into the playground, followed by his young mother, yelling at him to slow down.

The boy ran over to the little climbing frame and began to slowly and tentatively climb, even though it was only three rungs high.

The mother stopped dead still at the sight of Richard and Laura. Her face was an expression of pure confusion at seeing the local teacher sitting in a playground with a strange woman, a cardboard box, and without any children. Her expression of confusion slowly turned to one of embarrassment as she realised she had been blatantly staring at them.

Richard nodded in acknowledgement. Laura smiled.

The mother looked away.

‘Do you know her?’ Laura asked.

‘Yes, her eldest son is in my class. She is probably wondering why I am here when I should be at school.’

‘Do you want to go?’ Laura asked.

‘Yes,’ he said. He stood and picked up the cardboard box.

* * *

Laura made them each a cup of tea which she placed on the kitchen table along with the biscuit tin. She knew that neither the tea, nor the biscuits, would be touched, but she went through the ritual anyway. It made her feel calm and in control while giving Richard that sense of normality and the time he needed to process what had happened. Sometimes the simple things helped in getting through the hardest of times.

Laura sat down and placed her hands around the mug.

‘I won’t stop long. I need to get back to Henry,’ he said.

‘I know,’ she said. But she wanted to give him the chance to breathe, to have a moment before he ventured back home to noise and movement and doing things. He needed this little bit of time. ‘Thank you for carrying the box for me.’

‘No problem. It was the least I could do.’

‘Listen, I know it’s early days, but if you need any help with the funeral, just ask. It’s no bother,’ Laura said, hoping that she hadn’t offended him. He had Tracey and Megan who would help him, but she felt the need to also offer her help.

‘Thank you, that’s kind, but I’ll be okay.’

Richard continued to stare at his tea, making no attempt to pick it up.

Laura thought about putting the radio on for a bit of background noise, but thought better of it. It would come across as insensitive.

‘Things will be different now, won’t they?’ Richard said, looking up from the table.

Laura wondered what he was referring to but nodded in agreement anyway. Did he mean life without Gertie in it? Not going to the home?

‘Life will be so strange without her. She was the only mother I knew. She brought me up, asked for nothing in return.’ He stopped to wipe his eyes with the back of his sleeve, turning his face so that Laura wouldn’t see him.

She got up and pulled a sheet of kitchen roll from the dispenser, silently passing it to him.

He took it and thanked her.

Laura sat back down. She wanted to give him a hug. This big man was breaking before her and she didn’t know what to do.

‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled as he shoved the kitchen roll into his pocket. ‘I think I should go. I need to be with Henry.’

‘Of course,’ she said, standing up.

She followed him to the front door.

‘Please let me know if I can do anything. If you need help in sorting out her things, then just ask.’

‘Thank you. That would be a huge help.’ He smiled and touched her on the arm. ‘Thank you again.’

‘No problem.’ Laura hesitated for a fraction of a second, before leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek.

If Richard was surprised, he didn’t show it. His jaw remained clenched and he smiled his lop-sided smile. He studied her face for a few seconds, as if weighing up if he should say out loud what was on his mind. ‘So, I won’t be seeing as much of you now, as I won’t be visiting the home.’

Laura swallowed and fought back her own tears. She forced a smile. ‘You can always call round here for a chat or a cup of tea. Anytime. I’m a good listener.’

‘I might well do that,’ Richard said before opening the door. He stepped outside and without looking back he walked down the path.

Laura slowly closed the door behind him and rested her forehead against it. She would miss him. She needed to see him again. And it had nothing to do with the promise she had made to Gertie.

* * *

Later that night, Laura sat in bed with Gertie’s note clutched in her hand. She had summoned up the courage to open the envelope, but she now needed more courage to read the contents. This would be their last connection. Once read, she could never go back and read it for the first time again.

She took a deep breath and unfurled the pages, smoothing them out on her lap. She began to read.

To my Laura,

From the very first day you walked into the day room and into my life, I knew that you were special and that you would change my and Richard’s life. I wasn’t wrong, was I? When I told you that I had seen the future, and that you would be with Richard, I could tell that you didn’t believe me and that you still don’t, but that doesn’t matter now, love. Just look after yourself. Remember you are young, you are loved, you’re worth it. Be happy, live your life to the absolute fullest, and know that my grandson will always be there for you, as you will always be there for him.

Your friend,

Gertie.

The tears came then. Laura let them fall as she wept for her friend and the grandmother she never had.

* * *

On the other side of the village, Richard sat alone in his living room. Henry was safely tucked up in bed. Tracey and Megan and Jack had all offered to stay with him, telling him that he shouldn’t be alone at a time like this, but he had told them that he was fine. That he preferred to be alone and that if he needed anything, he would call.

Tracey had taken the most persuading and in the end Richard nearly had to push her out the door, but she had gone with the promise that she would be round first thing in the morning to help Henry get ready for preschool. Richard didn’t have any fight left in him to protest, so he simply agreed. But he didn’t need any help. The school had given him two weeks’ leave and more if he needed it. So all he had to do in the morning was focus on Henry, and that’s what he needed. A reason for getting up and getting on with things. As the saying went, life goes on , and Gertie would want him to carry on. She had told him as much, hadn’t she?

The Tupperware dish that contained chicken curry was in the microwave, where he had heated it up half an hour earlier. Now the smell of curry filled the whole room, but Richard had no appetite to eat. So, he left it cooling. He would put it back in the fridge for tomorrow.

Richard hadn’t bothered to turn on any lamps, so now he sat in the dark. The only light in the room came drifting in from the lone street light outside. He couldn’t even face watching the rolling news, which was how he spent most nights. What was the point? He couldn’t concentrate on anything.

Tracey had tried to strike up a conversation with him on his return from Laura’s, but had quickly given up due to his monosyllabic responses. Instead, she had ushered him into the living room to sit with Megan and Henry while she made endless cups of tea.

He had never quite worked out the link between tea and bad news. That somehow tea could solve everything. If only.

So he had spent most of his day making small talk and keeping Henry entertained. It had been draining, and now, as he sat on his recliner in the dark, he knew that sleep would not come, despite feeling tired to the bone.

His chest ached, that visceral all-consuming pain in his bones and muscles and heart. That ache, which made it hard to breathe. That’s what he felt right now. The physical pain of losing Gertie, the only mother he had known, and he didn’t know what to do with that pain.

If he was being honest with himself, it took him right back to losing Sally. The pain he felt now mingled with the pain of the past and intensified it somehow.

Breathe. Just breathe and you will get through this.

He had to get through this pain. He had Henry. He had responsibilities. He had done it before and he would do it again.

He needed to focus on the positives. He needed to think about only the good things. The full life she had lived. The fun times they had spent together when he was a little boy. Her laughter, her warmth, her smile, her courage, her love.

All now gone.

This was no good. He shouldn’t be sitting here in the dark. Wallowing. No good would come of that.

It was then that Richard remembered the letter, the one he had found in Gertie’s room under the cardboard box. The one which he had shoved into his jacket pocket. He pushed himself up and out of the chair, and went to retrieve it from where he had hung his jacket on the hook in the hall.

Richard paused at the bottom of the stairs. He listened for signs of life upstairs. All was quiet. Henry had quickly settled, but he would go and check on him again in a little bit. Make sure he was still asleep. He still wasn’t sure how Henry would cope with Gertie’s death. He had been quiet all day. How did any child cope? All Richard could compare it to was losing his own mum and dad, but he had been so young and he couldn’t remember them. It would be different for Henry. He would remember his gran, and Richard wanted those memories to help his son. He needed to find photographs of the two of them: Gertie and Henry on a day trip to the farm, celebrating Christmas, reading a story together, when Gertie had come to Sunday lunch. They were all images that he had posted online. He would print them all off. Make an album for his son to keep for ever. Richard wanted these memories to stay fresh for his little boy, as he did for himself.

He made his way back to the living room and flicked on the table lamp. He lowered himself down onto the recliner.

What have you got to tell me, Gertie?

He opened the envelope, pulled out the letter and blinked in surprise, his heart hammering in his chest. There was another letter, one she’d left for safekeeping in the care home’s safe. A letter, she told him, that would explain everything.