‘You’re right, I know. It was just such a shock when the hospital called though, identifying me as his next of kin from the contacts on his phone. Thank goodness he had it on him. He collapsed in the supermarket apparently. We got there last night and sat with him all night. He was conscious for a while, you know, slipping in and out so at least he knew we were there. I am glad he wasn’t alone when he…’ She blows her nose loudly.
‘Exactly. That’s something to be grateful for,’ I say gently. ‘You should have called me though, Mum.’
‘No, it was the middle of the night. You have work to think about, me and your dad don’t,’ she says, dismissing the idea. ‘I’m fine, we had a bit of a lie-in this morning. Poor Jack.’ She shakes her head and stifles another sob.
I remind her that Jack had a good life and that at least he didn’t suffer. ‘He packed a lot into his life and always did the things he enjoyed.’
‘That’s very true, I suppose. You always manage to say the right thing.’ Mum smiles.
‘I must take after you then,’ I tell Mum, a lady of tact and infinite wisdom.
‘One thing I do know is that he left a will,’ Mum tells me. ‘It’s with his solicitors, who say they will be in touch when the reading is scheduled. You will come, won’t you?’
‘Yes, if you want me to,’ I reply.
‘You must do. I’m certain Jack has left you something,’ Mum informs me. ‘Your brother will be coming up too.’
‘Of course. And, in the meantime, I will help you organise the funeral.’
It will be nice to see my brother Josh and my gorgeous nephew George, who I absolutely adore but don’t see nearly enough of. No doubt it will be a whistle-stop visit though, as Josh has a busy life and a pretty high-pressure job in sales.
‘Oh, thanks, love. I must confess I don’t really have a clue where to start with all that. It’s been a long time since we planned a funeral for your grandparents. Everything is different now.’
‘Not really, although a lot of stuff can be done online these days. Don’t worry about a thing. First call is to the undertaker. Pop the kettle on, Mum, I’ll do that right away.’
‘Use Hamiltons on the high street. The number should be in a book near the phone,’ she informs me, so I look up the number. ‘Brian Hamilton is a lovely man. Make sure you have him when me and your dad pass,’ she shouts through from the kitchen as the kettle starts to boil.
‘Mum! You’re both as fit as fiddles, you will probably outlive him,’ I tell her as she returns with the tea, not wanting to think about the day that happens to either of them.
‘You know what I mean, it’s a family business, his son already works there,’ she tells me.
Just as we sit with our mugs of tea, Dad reappears from his greenhouse, clutching a bag of tomatoes. Always one to avoid any emotional talk, he slipped out to his greenhouse when I arrived, after an awkward hug and a pat on the back. Dad is a fixer though. ‘Every problem has a solution,’ is what he always says firmly if any problem in the family seems insurmountable.
‘That was good timing,’ says Dad, eyeing the tea tray. ‘Any of that lemon drizzle cake left to go with it?’
‘I was just going to bring that in,’ says Mum. ‘Do you think of anything other than food?’ She rolls her eyes and my tall, slender dad, who could probably eat a whole cow on a sandwich and not put on an ounce of weight, grins.
My family are Uncle Jack’s only next of kin, as he met my auntie Kathleen later in life and they never had any children. I’m pleased to be included in his will and hope he may have left me the silver owl I often admired that sat on a bookshelf in his lounge. There was a globe too, that I used to spin, and ask my uncle to test me on capital cities, which resulted in me being the top of the class at geography in primary school. Maybe playing with that globe nurtured my lust for travel, along with the world picture atlas on the bookshelf, as so far I have been to Thailand, Greece, the East Coast of America, and countless European cities, usually on long weekend breaks. Oh, and Cuba. How could I forget visiting Havana and marvelling at everything about the city, including the cool American cars. But there is just something about Greece that always pulls me back to its islands.
Later that morning, having dealt with the funeral and all the other legalities, I squeeze my mum in a goodbye hug and Dad hands me a bag of tomatoes and a yellow pepper.
‘Make sure you eat properly,’ Mum reminds me as she does every single time I visit.
‘Course, Mum, promise,’ I reassure her.
‘I’ll be in touch when the solicitor arranges the meeting,’ she says, before closing the red front door with the pristine hanging baskets outside.
TWO
‘As far as I can see, it’s being processed,’ I say to the almost hysterical woman on the phone, who tells me she is going on holiday in four days’ time and her daughter’s passport has not arrived yet and what exactly am I going to do about it? I resist the urge to tell her that maybe she ought to have applied for it a little earlier in the year and not during full-on holiday season.
I finish the call and sigh. I do love my job, despite people thinking we are magicians who can have a passport processed and hand delivered by a fairy who leaves a dusting of fairy dust on their doorstep within twenty-four hours. I understand people’s desire to go on holiday, I love to go myself after all, but I just feel a little flat as it’s so soon after Jack’s death, and maybe I’m not possessing my usual patience with callers.
I’m a supervisor at the Passport Office, and while the days can be a bit samey, I glance out of the window and remind myself that there are far worse places to work. Plus, the pay is decent. The office is housed in a listed building, with views over the Mersey and several other magnificent buildings known as the Three Graces. It is breathtaking. And, of course, I have the joy of working from home a couple of days a week and sitting around in my loungewear.
‘Fancy going for a walk at lunchtime?’ my colleague Suzi asks as she finishes a call.
‘Sure, sounds good,’ I reply as I glance at my watch. We stagger our lunch hours, so today Suzi and I will take a break at one o’clock. The sun is shining brightly, so we will probably grab a sandwich and look for a bench somewhere to eat it. Unless we are lucky enough to find a table at an outdoor café that is.
