A Dark Matter Episode 52

More earth went on top of Ursula’s body as Archie looked at Dorothy then turned back to the grave. Staring at the grave, something occurred to Dorothy and the obvious nature of it made her cheeks flush. She’d always assumed Simon Lawrence walked away from his family responsibilities.

But what if he didn’t have a choice, what if someone got rid of him? It was hard to get rid of a person, to get rid of their body. Unless.

She stared at Archie by the open grave for a long time, then realised what she had to do next.

Jenny

The hangover was lifting but the sense of shame lingered. Jenny had spent the last hour wandering around the funeral home like a ghost.

Hannah had gone home, and Mum and Archie were on a funeral. There was just Indy on reception as Jenny pitched up there like a shipwreck victim on shore. “How are you holding up?” Jenny said. Indy smiled. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Jenny nodded. “Mine is self-inflicted. No sympathy.”

The silence was awkward before Jenny spoke again. “I still can’t really believe it, about Mel.”

Indy swallowed hard, then her head went down and she started crying.

“Oh, hey,” Jenny said. She went round behind the desk and put her hand on Indy’s arm. Indy stood up and moved into a hug, wrapping her arms around her and holding tight. Jenny rubbed at her back, feeling the shudders of Indy’s breath against her chest.

“It’s OK,” she said. She knew it wasn’t OK, but what else could you say? She had a flash of memory, holding Hannah as a toddler with a scraped knee, inconsolable at the pain and indignant at the way the world had conspired to hurt her.

Then again, years later, when she had to break the news that Craig was leaving them, that mix of hurt and anger, so easy to understand.

“Shhh,” Jenny said. She thought about Indy’s life, so hard compared to her own. Her parents already dead, an orphan and barely even an adult. And yet she was always the more mature one in her relationship with Hannah, always the sensible one, the strong one.

“I’m sorry,” Indy said.

“Don’t be silly.”

Indy pulled away and took a huge breath, wiped at her face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You have every right to be upset,” Jenny said.

Mel was Indy’s friend as much as Hannah’s.

Hannah’s obsession had railroaded everyone else out of the way, but the quiet ones like Indy still grieved, they just didn’t kick up a stink about it.

“It’s just,” Indy said, sniffing, “this is bringing up a lot of stuff. About my mum and dad.”

“Of course it is.” Jenny tried to keep her voice calm. “You must miss them.”

Indy nodded. “More than I ever say to Han. It’s difficult.”

“I know.”

Baggage

Jenny wondered how Indy saw her. Indy and Hannah weren’t married, but Jenny was more or less a mother-in-law.

She hoped she didn’t come with the baggage that title suggested.

“You can talk to me anytime,” she said. “About anything.”

“I just get so angry sometimes,” Indy said, touching the back of the chair. “That they left me alone. But that’s selfish.”

“It’s totally understandable.” Jenny thought for a moment. “Did you ever speak to anyone about them? I mean counselling or something?”

Indy shook her head. “Everyone thinks I’m so strong. No one suggested it.”

“Everyone needs someone to talk to,” Jenny said, wondering who she had to talk to. She was the same when Craig left, OK that wasn’t a bereavement, but she felt a whirlwind of fury and emotion, and never spoke to anyone about it. Who could she have gone to?

The phone rang, and Indy fanned at her face and breathed again.

“Are you sure you’re OK?” Jenny said. Indy nodded and took the call. Jenny watched for a few moments, listening to Indy’s calm reassurances to someone else going through trauma.

It was amazing she was strong enough to do that. Hannah was lucky.

Jenny wandered to the embalming room. She stood staring at the instruments on the tray next to the empty body table. She ran a hand along the metal. This was the coldest place in the house, the air conditioning running high to reduce decomposition, and the blast of cool air seemed to sooth her hangover.

She couldn’t handle drinking during the day, not at her age. While poor Mel was lying in a bush somewhere and Hannah was getting bailed out of the station, she was kissing her ex-husband against the wall like a teenager.

She was mortified. But, if she was being honest, also a little thrilled about that.

It came down to the basic human desire to be wanted. She knew she had some power over Craig, she could still turn him on. She was still an attractive woman.

Invisible

She’d got used to being invisible to younger men, as if they saw right through her, as if she was a ghost.

That was partly liberating, no longer getting hassle or abuse, not having to put on a show.

But at the same time there was a niggle at the back of her mind. She didn’t want to be done with all that, because that meant giving up on love, which meant giving up on life.

She walked over to the fridges and looked at the names written there. Each one a life lived, larger or smaller, better or worse, none of it mattered now. Ashes to ashes, and all that.

She thought about her own funeral, how she might be summed up. Who would even be there? She was a ghost already.

God, no one ever warns you about the existential angst that comes with hangovers in your forties.

She was the same. She felt a whirlwind of fury and emotion, and never spoke to anyone about it. Who could she have gone to?

A Dark Matter by Doug Johnstone is published by Orenda Books, as is Black Hearts, his latest in the same series. www.orendabooks.co.uk