Chapter Five
An Unexpected Dinner Guest
Mum had called me back within an hour, she’d been and bought food and had invited me over for lunch on Sunday. It was only a thirty-minute walk to my parents’ house and I had stopped off at the off license to buy a few bottles of specialty beers for Dad, Hobgoblin and Speckled Hen were his favourites. Mum didn’t drink and as I’d decided I was off the booze for a while, I didn’t buy wine. The new no alcohol policy had been decided after my talk with Dr. Blanchard, it was part of my life detox and path back to normalcy, whatever that was. It’d only been a few days and even though I didn’t drink that much usually anyway, I felt a little brighter and less tired today. Whether that was anything to do with the lack of alcohol or just the fact I’d made my mind up to be positive about everything, I wasn’t sure but whatever the cause, it was working.
Dad opened the door a few seconds after I rang the doorbell, a big cheesy grin on his face
“Hello sweetheart! Come give you’re old Dad a hug?” He opened his arms wide, welcoming me in.
“Dad. I’ve missed you. Why didn’t you come to see me last week with Mum?” I wrapped my arms around his ample, ever expanding frame and squeezed him tight. The bottles of beer clinked together in the plastic carrier bag I carried.
“Oh! What have you brought me chuckles?” He wiggled his eyebrows in delight.
I presented the bag to him. “Beer!” I laughed. “And what is this?” I asked, patting his belly. “I thought Mum had you on a diet?”
“Ahh, yes! Salads and more salads,” he pulled a face of disgust, “rabbit food! Don’t tell her but I have a secret stash in the shed, shh!” He put a finger to his lips and winked at me.
“Dad, you’re terrible! She’ll notice at some point. That woman doesn’t miss a trick.”
“Yes, she will but until then I’ll keep enjoying my Mars bars thank you very much. I’ve earned them.” His belly wobbled as he laughed and I had a mad thought that he’d make an excellent Father Christmas. If he still wanted to do something after retirement, it’d be a great temporary job over the holiday season. Maybe I’d suggest it during lunch. It would certainly suit him, he was the typical rosy-cheeked, jolly old soul. Everyone always had a good word about my father. He was hardworking, loyal, stalwart old Charlie - loved by all. My mother doted on him, even though she made out that he got under her feet most of the time, I knew she wouldn’t have it any other way.
I heard her call from inside the house, “Is that our girl, Charles? Come on through love, the dinner’s almost ready.” The smell of roast lamb flooded my nostrils and instantly made my stomach rumble, and my mouth water.
“Oh my god, Mum that smells delicious! I’m absolutely starving.” I hugged her from behind as she stood at the hob, stirring the gravy.
“Hello, Love. I did your favourite.” She smiled indulgently. “I’m betting it’s been a while since you ate a roast, am I right?” I nodded enthusiastically. Roast lamb was indeed my favourite and it looked like Mum had done all the proper trimmings too, roast potatoes, steamed veg and homemade gravy! My stomach growled with longing.
“Do you want me to do anything?” I offered.
“No, love. It’s all ready but for the gravy. Go sit with your father and I’ll shout you both when it’s ready.”
“OK, thanks!” I kissed her cheek and went through to the lounge. Dad was watching the footy on the telly. It was the charity shield, pre-season game between Manchester United and Leicester City.
“Who’s winning, City or United?” I asked him, knowing he’d be rooting for Manchester United, he was a true red.
“Nil - Nil at the minute, playing like a bunch of blind mice though. Bloody terrible passing, I hope they improve in the second half.” He shook his head at the TV. I settled onto the sofa, curling one leg under me and picked up the newspaper to glance through. Dad continued to grumble at the state of play, making some comments about the current team Manager. It made me smile, he loved his football, never missed a game if he could help it. I hated football but would engage in the commentary because it pleased him. Only a few minutes passed before Mum shouted us to the table for dinner.
“Looks amazing as always Mum.” I said, she beamed at the compliment and placed the gravy boat in the centre of the table. The spread really was amazing. I only really ate a roast dinner if Mum cooked or I went out somewhere for a pub lunch. So, it was something of a treat to sit down to a home cooked meal. I tucked in enthusiastically, making noises of appreciation as I ate. Halfway through I decided to bring up the topic of their planned trip to see my sister, Imogen.
“So, I was thinking, if you don’t mind and the offer of a ticket is still available, I’d like to go to New Zealand with you both?”
Dad grinned and put his fork down to pat my hand. That was his way of saying yes. Mum flashed me a brief half-smile and said, “What happened to your deadlines? I thought you were busy.”
“Yeah, I was... I am, still busy but I managed to get caught up a bit this weekend. I stayed up late the last three nights, so…”
“Oh. Well. If you still want to come I suppose it’d be nice. It means your father working a bit more overtime of course.”
“Oh shush now, Linda. Of course she can come, don’t be daft.” My Dad looked at Mum. “I was always planning on you coming anyway sweetheart, I’ve already booked in a few extra hours so it’ll cover the ticket, although you might have to bring your own spending money?”
“Yeah course Dad, thank you, I can cover that part obviously.” I looked over at my Mother, “Mum, I promise I’ll pay you back when I have the spare cash. I know you don’t like Dad working much now. I appreciate it, really.”
“No, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. We’re just pleased you decided to come. Imogen will be happy too.”
“Oh Crap, Immy!” I’d completely forgotten to call her back. After I’d tried to Skype her the other day and she hadn’t answered, I’d seen a text from her later that day saying ‘You Ok? Been worried sick! Text me ASAP.’
“What’s wrong?” Mum asked, “Is your sister alright? I haven’t spoken to her for a few days.”
I put my hand on my forehead and grimaced, “Yeah, she’s fine don’t worry. It’s just something I need to clear up with her that’s all. I meant to talk to her sooner and forgot. Shit.”
“Darling, can you please not swear at the dinner table? It’s very unladylike.” Mum's chastising tone irked me slightly, I was twenty-nine not twelve. Dad smoothed it over by rolling his eyes at me and winking before stuffing another roast potato in his mouth and patting his large belly.
It turned out to quite a non-eventful and pleasant family lunch for once. Dad and I cleared the table and I told them both to go sit down and relax while I washed the dishes. I could hear Dad getting back into the game, there must only be another few minutes left. He’d missed most the second half through dinner- I wondered what the score was. Mum came through to the kitchen with her empty cup,
“Your Father’s getting wound up now, It's 1:1.” She tutted and gave a little shake of her head.
“Oh dear. He’ll not be happy if United lose then.”
“No, I’ll never hear the end of it. How are you doing love?”
“Almost finished.”
“Lovely, thank you dear. Don’t bother drying them, I prefer to let them air dry, it’s more hygienic. Tut! Just listen at him! Does he really think shouting at them will make a difference?” Her words, although intended to scold, were coloured with affection. Half the time, when I listened to them bicker with each other, I couldn’t tell if they were purposeful jibes or it had just become habit after so many years of marriage. I supposed one just settled into a routine after the honeymoon period and you just got so used to each other’s company. I knew they loved each other, they still held hands walking down the street and Dad still surprised Mum with the occasional bunch of flowers. She called him an old romantic, I guess I got that trait from him. Mum was a bit more pragmatic, something that I seemed to lack.
“I’ve just got the roasting tin to wash now, I left it to soak for a while.”
“Well, when you’ve done that I’ll serve up the trifle, Dad’s been on a diet and he’s done ever so well. I thought I’d let him have a little treat.”
I grinned, “Oh I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.” She was going to kill him when she found out about his secret sweet stash!
“OH FOR GODS SAKE!” We heard Dad yell from the lounge.
“Whoops, I don’t think it’s going quite how he wanted it to.” I made a face and Mum laughed. She made her way back to him and I reached for the roasting pan. Just as I started scrubbing, the sound of something breaking reached my ears. Then a high pitched yelp and a clattering, like something big had fallen over.
“Hey! Is everything alright?” I shouted, “Dad hasn’t thrown his beer at the referee has he?” I laughed to myself, drying my hands on the towel, I started towards the front of the house to see what had happened. My guess was dad had gotten over excited and had knocked over the side table or something. Then I heard my mother begin to scream.
“Naomi! Call an ambulance! Naomi!”
My heart lurched. “WHAT? Mum, what’s happened?” I was running now.
“Charles? Charles? Oh dear god no! Charles, love, wake up.”
I made it to the front room and found my Mother on her knees, shaking the unmoving body of my Father. He lay face down on the floor, the side table and its contents were sprawled across the rug. The bottle of Speckled Hen had smashed and I could smell the beer. The pale liquid spread across the floor in a pool of froth next to my father’s unresponsive corpse, like blood gushing from a wound. My Mother was trying to turn him over but he was a too heavy. All I could do was stare at him. His lifeless eyes were open and I was looking directly into them. I pulled out my phone and called the emergency services, my actions and speech mechanical. I was numb.
“Mum, they’re on their way.” kneeling beside her sobbing frame as she still attempted to rouse my Dad. “Here, move out the way Mum!” I settled by my father’s side and tried desperately to revive him, putting to use all I could remember of CPR. I alternated breath with chest compressions how I thought it should be performed but nothing seemed to be working. He was gone, I knew it but I didn’t have it in me to tell Mum. So I carried on, hoping I could at least give him a chance while waiting for the paramedics. Mum sat next to me on the floor and just cried his name. Her cries resonated inside my head and all I wanted to do was shut out the noise. I held back an irrational impulse to shout at her to be quiet, some disjointed part of me told me that would be insensitive- this was her husband she was entitled to be hysterical. By the same token- this was my father... so why wasn't I?
The ambulance arrived a few minutes later and the paramedic, after making his routine assessments and briefly trying to revive Dad, pronounced him dead and called the coroner. The paramedic and his colleague placed my Dad’s body in a body bag and lifted him onto a trolley while we waited for the coroner to arrive.
Mum’s sobs had gradually subsided and she was now sat on a chair in the dining room with a cup of tea, not drinking it. The paramedic came through to talk to us,
“Coroner’s here Mrs Douglas.” He said to Mum. She just nodded and got up to follow him.
“Do you want me to deal with it?” I asked her,
“No.” was all the reply she gave. Then she paused at the door and said “Call Imogen?”
Oh Jesus! My sister. “Of course, Mum.” It would be around 6am her time. She should be home. This was not a call I was looking forward to.
I rang from the landline. Every ring sounded too loud, it made me cringe.
“Mum? Why are you ringing so early? What’s up?” Came Imogen’s voice down the line.
“Immy, it’s me.”
“Naomi? Why are you at Mum’s? Oh my God, what the hell happened the other night? I’ve been so worried about you! I was freaking out but then since no one rang or text me to tell me you were attacked or abducted I guessed it must’ve been a new boyfriend you forgot to tell me about. Bloody hell sis, you kept that one quiet, and there you were telling me you had no happy ending? I bet that went down well with him eh? So, what’s his name?”
“What?” I was stunned. I completely forgot the purpose of my call. So Imogen had seen him too? I thought back to her mad gesturing during our last Skype session. The sound and picture had gotten distorted and I thought she’d been trying to tell me something. When I had seen Joe’s reflection it had crossed my mind afterwards that perhaps Immy had seen him but that was before I’d spoken to Dr Blanchard, when I had thought he was real. Now Immy was telling me she had seen him? How was that possible? I heard my sister speaking but wasn’t listening, was I imagining this conversation? Had the shock of Dad’s death caused me to experience another attack of crazy? Dad’s death. Dad was dead. Shit.
“Dad died, Immy.” I blurted out. My sister fell silent mid conversation. “He had a heart attack. I’m… I’m here now. I was here when he…when it happened.”
“Oh my God, what? No, not Daddy, no!” Her wracking sobs faded into the background and I heard a male voice in their place,
“Hello? Naomi? This is Fletcher, Imogen’s partner. Can you tell me what happened? She’s too upset to talk.”
“Oh…hi, Fletcher.” This was an awkward time to be having my first conversation with him. “Um, our Dad had a massive heart attack just after dinner. He um…he didn’t make it. Listen is Immy OK? I can hear her crying. I’m sorry, Mum asked me to tell Imogen, I don’t know what she wants to do? Will she be able to come home for his…funeral?”
That last word came out as a strangled sob. Funeral. It seemed so final. Especially when my Dad still lay on a trolley in the other room.
“I’m so sorry, Naomi. Please pass my condolences to your Mother? Imogen is devastated. I’ll make sure she gets home to be with you both, don’t worry.”
“Thank you Fletcher. I appreciate that. Tell her I’ll look after Mum and I love her please?”
“Yeah, of course. I’m going to see to her now. We’ll call tomorrow, I’m sure once she’s calmed down a bit she’ll want to talk.”
“OK, yeah. Talk tomorrow. Bye.” I hung up only to hear my mother’s renewed cries replace my sisters. I went back through to the lounge where the coroner was rubbing my Mother’s arm sympathetically as the paramedics wheeled my Father’s body out of the house. He handed her some papers and followed the body out, leaving Mum and me alone. We both watched through the window as the ambulance drove away, taking Dad’s body to the morgue. I would need to contact a funeral parlour tomorrow and begin arrangements. Where would I even begin? I had no idea and couldn’t think about it now. Mum was in a state, she looked on the verge of collapse herself.
“What do you need? What do you want to do?” I asked her.
“I think I just want to lie down, love. I’m exhausted.”
“Do you need me to stay over?”
“Would you?” She looked so small and vulnerable, I hardly recognised her.
“I’ll make up the spare bed. You go lie down. Shout me if you need me OK?”
She nodded once and dragged her weary self-up the stairs. It was an effort just watching her. It was then that I noticed the mess, the table Dad had knocked over and the broken beer bottle still lay on the floor. I righted the table and got the dustpan and brush from the pantry. The rug reeked of stale beer. I would hate that smell forever. A newspaper rested on the arm of his chair, open at the crossword he’d half completed. The sight of his handwriting pulled at my heart so hard I felt it like a physical blow.
“Oh Dad.” Clutching the paper to my chest I finally felt the tears fall. My Daddy was gone. The only man I could ever rely on had been taken from me. I had never felt pain like it. I crawled into his armchair, hugging my knees as my heart broke and grief washed over me in one giant wave. I never made it to the spare room, sheer exhaustion claimed me in the end. I cried until there was no fight left in me. As the moon and the stars peeked through cloud, my world seemed darker than ever. I would never forget the day that Death came to dinner.