As he closed down programs on his laptop and pulled off his earphones, he raised his head and froze, his attention drawn to a distant sound.
Barely audible beyond the building’s thick glazing, somewhere out there in the suburbs, cutting through the constant hum of traffic, came the peal of church bells. For as long as comfortably possible, he held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut and absorbing the simple melody.
Church bells, like Sunday mornings at home, reminded him of Kris. And without warning or witness, he was overcome by the kind of immobilising grief that he had hoped would have receded after the death of his lover ten years ago. He rarely allowed himself to wallow in thoughts of their time together, but the memory blindsided him and filled him with such warmth and love and togetherness. And when those tender recollections inevitably melted away they would leave him emotionally desolate, standing alone in the stark coldness of reality. But for now he would allow himself to listen to the bells, and wallow and remember…
Until the shrill ring of his desk phone drowned out everything.
For a moment, he sat there, appalled at the intrusion, glaring at the device, deciding whether or not to answer. Eventually, after several rings, he relented.
“Days-Gone-By Enterprises,” he answered gruffly, ripping a tissue from a box on his desk and dabbing at his eyes.
“Leonard,” came his mother’s stern voice. Although no explanation had been forthcoming, she no longer called his mobile phone. “I tried you at your house but you weren’t answering. You need to come home. Your father passed this morning, and I need your help arranging things. When can you be here?”
“What?” said Leonard, caught off guard. “Oh, God, Mum. Dad died? I’m so sorry. What happened?”
“Not now. When can you be home?”
“I—I can come now.” He had a case in his car for the business trip. By some stroke of fate he had even packed his black Hugo Boss suit for meetings. With a few clicks of his phone he could cancel the York trip. “I suppose I could be there around three or four. Traffic willing.”
“I’ll get your room ready.”
“Mum, what—?”
Before he had a chance to probe any further, she ended the call.
Annoyance bubbled in him. Most of the time he accepted his mother’s natural candour, and admired her ability to view and deal with the world dispassionately. Right now, he wished he had a parent who could be sensitive to the emotions a son might be feeling at the passing of the only father he would ever have. Perhaps she knew without asking that he considered grief an old friend.
As he left the office, he did something he hated and called Isabelle on her day off to hand over the reins for the week ahead. At home, his own house, everything would be fine.
Striding across the empty car park, Kieran’s words came back to him and cemented inside. He needed to find a life. At the moment, he seemed to be surrounded by too much death.
* * * *
Torrential rain met him halfway down the motorway. The automatic windscreen wipers of his SUV hissed furiously to clear the runoff blurring his vision. Cars slowed to a crawl. Leonard finally signalled off the Norwich Southern Bypass. Through the wall of rainfall, landmarks began to bring back memories.
On his left, the building-block medical centre soon gave way to thick woodland or fallow fields of long grass lining the road on Longwater Lane. Farther on, he passed through the familiar village of Costessey and the King’s Head pub where he’d had his first-ever pint of beer at the illegal age of fourteen. The Red Lion would have been closer to home, but everyone knew everyone in Drayton.
Once he crossed the River Wensum, dense overhanging branches plunged his SUV into gloom along the narrow lane leading into the heart of his old town. Initially he had reasoned that setting off before midday would avoid him having to navigate tight and often single-width roads at night. But the rain had brought early darkness, which meant moving slowly, headlights on full beam. As he crawled around another curve in a lane crowded on both sides by trees, hoping not to meet another driver in the opposite direction, the phone in his dashboard display beeped with an incoming call.
Kieran.
“Hi, Kieran. What’s up?”
Instead of Kieran, the voice of his partner Kennedy came through the car speakers.
“Isabelle phoned Kieran. Said you’d had a family emergency that’s taken you way out east. He wants to know if you’re okay, and if there’s anything we can do to help?”
In the background Leonard could hear a baby screaming. Two kids to look after, both men with full-time jobs, but he knew them well enough to recognise the genuine offer of help. Leonard breathed out an inaudible sigh. At some point, he needed to remind himself to thank the world for what he had, and stop mourning what he didn't.
“Not really, Kennedy, but thanks for asking. Dad passed away, that’s all I know right now. Mum hasn’t told me much. He was seventy-five, not old really. But he had a heart condition, although I understood he had that under control. I suppose you never really know. So there’ll be arrangements to make. Registering the death, booking the funeral, contacting family members, checking if he had a will and other nonsense. Mum will need my help with that. But you could remind that husband of yours to keep an eye on Isabelle in case she needs assistance. She’s going to be stepping into my shoes while I’m away.”
“That’s a given,” came Kieran’s voice in the background. “And don’t worry. We promise to water your plants, feed your fish and walk your dog—”
“Slap your husband for me, Kennedy, will you?”
“And Izzy and I can take care of the Cheltenham manor project, as well as the meeting with your accountant on Wednesday.”
“Shit, I’d completely forgotten. I can always dial in—”
