Chapter Sixteen
She felt a jolt through her whole body, from her legs to her neck. Her head was still spinning slightly, so she kept her eyes closed for a moment. As that didn't make it any better she opened them. What she saw made no sense. Brown leaves lay in front of her nose, and as she turned over onto her side, carefully because of feeling so weird inside, she saw shades of green, brown and blue. Nothing would come into focus, and she had lost hold of the Bear. Feeling sick and dizzy, she raised herself onto her knees. Something hard and warm was under her right hand, and she grasped it tightly. Through the rushing in her ears she began to make out voices, calling her name.
“Jay! Jay! Where are you, darling?”
That didn't sound like the Bear, though it was familiar.
The voices became louder, and she stood up unsteadily. She felt very groggy and disorientated. Opening her fist to see what she had picked up she saw a warm iridescent stone, which she folded back into her palm and clung to as though it was the only real thing in the world.
“Oh, look, there she is! Jay! Jay, you've got to come home!”
The voices seemed to twitter and run in and out of sense.
Suddenly the world and all her troubles snapped into focus. Coming towards her were her grandparents, looking worried and dishevelled.
She got to her feet, still holding the little stone, and began to stumble down the hill towards them. They looked at each other, then at Jay, obviously distressed. Gran came towards her, holding out her arms as Gramps opened his mouth to say something, but Jay already knew what was coming. She didn't want to hear the words said by anyone else. Shaking from head to toe and feeling very sick, as they came up to her she whispered: “Grace is dead.” She gazed over their shoulders as the trees behind came very close then diminished into a spinning distance. Meadow grass came up to meet her as she collapsed into a dead faint at their feet.
She came round with her head very uncomfortably between her knees, Gran's arms round her and Gramps kneeling down next to her. The stone was still clasped tightly in her hand, and as she straightened up she stuffed it into her back jeans pocket. Gramps helped her to her feet, but she doubled up with the cramping pain in her belly.
“Oh, Maurice, the poor child!” exclaimed her grandmother, who somehow seemed to understand immediately what was wrong. “We've got to get her home quickly. Her jeans are saturated... Oh dear. Everything happening at once. Oh, Jay, you poor girl, what a time to start!”
Carefully they all walked back down the cold muddy path to the car park, where their car was the only one left. Dusk was falling. There followed a thoroughly miserable journey back to the house, Jay sitting on a plastic bag in the back seat with all the embarrassment of knowing that her grandparents knew. She didn't want anyone to know, not anyone except the singing women. And then there was the other thing. She would have to talk to her mother, have to hear her saying the words Jay was still hoping against hope would never have to be said. And there would be the journey home to face. She slumped in the car, tried to sleep and escape from it all, but every time she closed her eyes she felt as though she was going to throw up.
Bless her, when they stopped at the cottage Gran wouldn't let her out of the car until she had a huge towel to wrap around her from head to toe.
“If anyone asks or notices, it's because you got soaked walking in the woods,” she said. “But I don't expect anyone will. It's for you, dear, not for anyone else.”
Jay was taken into the warm house, and they ran a bath for her. She hated the way the bath water went pink as she sat in it, and was glad to clamber out and use the items which Gran gave her and which needed no explaining. Gramps brought her supper in bed.
“We will take you home tomorrow in the car,” he told her. We're all going. Your mum needs all the help and support she can get now, there'll be a lot to see to. I know you're not well, sweetheart, but that's the way things are.”
“Will there be a funeral, Gramps? Will I have to go? Can I see ... can I see her before they...” she gulped.
She pressed on, in spite of the choking feeling in her throat and the tightness in her chest .
“Gramps, I want to see her, I want to say goodbye. Will they let me?”
He handed her a tissue.
“I'll make very sure you see her, whatever anyone says.” He didn't tell her that her mother had expressly said that Jay was not to be allowed near until the funeral. “I think it's really important. Let me tell you a story...”
“No thank you, Gramps, I'm too old for bedtime stories.”
“That's not quite what I meant. When I was a young lad...”
“Sorry.”
“...last year of primary school so not far off your age, young Jay, I had a friend. Lloyd and I used to go everywhere together, we went swimming and fishing and wandered all over the place just enjoying each other's company. And getting up to mischief, I dare say. When he died suddenly from a bee sting I couldn't believe it. I wouldn't go near his house, I ran away when I saw his parents. I really didn't want to believe it, I never shed one tear. The day before the funeral, I crept up to the funeral parlour and the woman inside saw me and came out before I could run off. 'You were Lloyd's friend, weren't you? You must come in and say goodbye. It's your last chance.' She said it so strong. I'd been brought up not to be rude, so in I had to go, and she left me to it. There he was, lying still and quiet in a silk lined box, looking so peaceful. Like and not quite like, sleeping without breathing. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and pulled out a length of fishing twine with a hook on it and put it into his hand. It didn't seem wrong or awkward after all, but I went away and cried and cried. He was so cold, you see. But when it came to the funeral I was glad, because all there was to see was the box they put in the ground. No sign of Lloyd at all. But I knew he had his fishing line to keep him busy in the next world, and I was glad I'd seen him to bid farewell. Without, I wouldn't ever have known he'd gone, see.”
“Oh, Gramps.”
“Everyone's got a story a bit like that. Those that go and say goodbye, they're often glad. Those that don't are nearly always sorry. Not that I'm trying to tell you what to do, I think you're quite right. Just to say that I won't let anyone stand in your way.”
“Thanks, Gramps.” Jay sniffed, then used the tissue. “Thanks for telling me about Lloyd. It sounds as though you're still sad about it.”
“Well, bless you, not really. It was so long ago. Other things get important after a while, you know. Now you snuggle down, grand daughter of mine, and sleep sound.”
She felt a jolt through her whole body, from her legs to her neck. Her head was still spinning slightly, so she kept her eyes closed for a moment. As that didn't make it any better she opened them. What she saw made no sense. Brown leaves lay in front of her nose, and as she turned over onto her side, carefully because of feeling so weird inside, she saw shades of green, brown and blue. Nothing would come into focus, and she had lost hold of the Bear. Feeling sick and dizzy, she raised herself onto her knees. Something hard and warm was under her right hand, and she grasped it tightly. Through the rushing in her ears she began to make out voices, calling her name.
“Jay! Jay! Where are you, darling?”
That didn't sound like the Bear, though it was familiar.
The voices became louder, and she stood up unsteadily. She felt very groggy and disorientated. Opening her fist to see what she had picked up she saw a warm iridescent stone, which she folded back into her palm and clung to as though it was the only real thing in the world.
“Oh, look, there she is! Jay! Jay, you've got to come home!”
The voices seemed to twitter and run in and out of sense.
Suddenly the world and all her troubles snapped into focus. Coming towards her were her grandparents, looking worried and dishevelled.
She got to her feet, still holding the little stone, and began to stumble down the hill towards them. They looked at each other, then at Jay, obviously distressed. Gran came towards her, holding out her arms as Gramps opened his mouth to say something, but Jay already knew what was coming. She didn't want to hear the words said by anyone else. Shaking from head to toe and feeling very sick, as they came up to her she whispered: “Grace is dead.” She gazed over their shoulders as the trees behind came very close then diminished into a spinning distance. Meadow grass came up to meet her as she collapsed into a dead faint at their feet.
She came round with her head very uncomfortably between her knees, Gran's arms round her and Gramps kneeling down next to her. The stone was still clasped tightly in her hand, and as she straightened up she stuffed it into her back jeans pocket. Gramps helped her to her feet, but she doubled up with the cramping pain in her belly.
“Oh, Maurice, the poor child!” exclaimed her grandmother, who somehow seemed to understand immediately what was wrong. “We've got to get her home quickly. Her jeans are saturated... Oh dear. Everything happening at once. Oh, Jay, you poor girl, what a time to start!”
Carefully they all walked back down the cold muddy path to the car park, where their car was the only one left. Dusk was falling. There followed a thoroughly miserable journey back to the house, Jay sitting on a plastic bag in the back seat with all the embarrassment of knowing that her grandparents knew. She didn't want anyone to know, not anyone except the singing women. And then there was the other thing. She would have to talk to her mother, have to hear her saying the words Jay was still hoping against hope would never have to be said. And there would be the journey home to face. She slumped in the car, tried to sleep and escape from it all, but every time she closed her eyes she felt as though she was going to throw up.
Bless her, when they stopped at the cottage Gran wouldn't let her out of the car until she had a huge towel to wrap around her from head to toe.
“If anyone asks or notices, it's because you got soaked walking in the woods,” she said. “But I don't expect anyone will. It's for you, dear, not for anyone else.”
Jay was taken into the warm house, and they ran a bath for her. She hated the way the bath water went pink as she sat in it, and was glad to clamber out and use the items which Gran gave her and which needed no explaining. Gramps brought her supper in bed.
“We will take you home tomorrow in the car,” he told her. We're all going. Your mum needs all the help and support she can get now, there'll be a lot to see to. I know you're not well, sweetheart, but that's the way things are.”
“Will there be a funeral, Gramps? Will I have to go? Can I see ... can I see her before they...” she gulped.
She pressed on, in spite of the choking feeling in her throat and the tightness in her chest .
“Gramps, I want to see her, I want to say goodbye. Will they let me?”
He handed her a tissue.
“I'll make very sure you see her, whatever anyone says.” He didn't tell her that her mother had expressly said that Jay was not to be allowed near until the funeral. “I think it's really important. Let me tell you a story...”
“No thank you, Gramps, I'm too old for bedtime stories.”
“That's not quite what I meant. When I was a young lad...”
“Sorry.”
“...last year of primary school so not far off your age, young Jay, I had a friend. Lloyd and I used to go everywhere together, we went swimming and fishing and wandered all over the place just enjoying each other's company. And getting up to mischief, I dare say. When he died suddenly from a bee sting I couldn't believe it. I wouldn't go near his house, I ran away when I saw his parents. I really didn't want to believe it, I never shed one tear. The day before the funeral, I crept up to the funeral parlour and the woman inside saw me and came out before I could run off. 'You were Lloyd's friend, weren't you? You must come in and say goodbye. It's your last chance.' She said it so strong. I'd been brought up not to be rude, so in I had to go, and she left me to it. There he was, lying still and quiet in a silk lined box, looking so peaceful. Like and not quite like, sleeping without breathing. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and pulled out a length of fishing twine with a hook on it and put it into his hand. It didn't seem wrong or awkward after all, but I went away and cried and cried. He was so cold, you see. But when it came to the funeral I was glad, because all there was to see was the box they put in the ground. No sign of Lloyd at all. But I knew he had his fishing line to keep him busy in the next world, and I was glad I'd seen him to bid farewell. Without, I wouldn't ever have known he'd gone, see.”
“Oh, Gramps.”
“Everyone's got a story a bit like that. Those that go and say goodbye, they're often glad. Those that don't are nearly always sorry. Not that I'm trying to tell you what to do, I think you're quite right. Just to say that I won't let anyone stand in your way.”
“Thanks, Gramps.” Jay sniffed, then used the tissue. “Thanks for telling me about Lloyd. It sounds as though you're still sad about it.”
“Well, bless you, not really. It was so long ago. Other things get important after a while, you know. Now you snuggle down, grand daughter of mine, and sleep sound.”