Prologue - 2020
The rain had persisted for three days and three nights. TV weather forecasters reported with ever-increasing excitement that all-time rainfall records were being broken, right across the country. News reporters waded around the flooded areas in brightly-coloured rubber boots and expensive raincoats, inviting distraught householders who had seen their homes, their most treasured possessions and all the children’s Christmas presents ruined to tell the viewers exactly how they were feeling. Meanwhile, business reporters sat in warm, dry TV studios, predicting that the damage and insurance costs sustained in this latest deluge would be far worse than those of 2007, or even 2012, and insurance premiums would have to rise again.
Two men made their way slowly along a path through a graveyard that was protected from flooding by its location, on a raised and gently sloping site, a mile from the nearest river. Leading the way was the elder one, around six feet tall, slim and athletic-looking for his fifty-odd years, with a full head of greying fair hair, receding slightly at the temples. He wore a heavy-duty waterproof jacket over jeans and green Wellington boots, and carried a blue and white golfing umbrella and a large bouquet of white flowers. On the little finger of his left hand was a plain gold band.
Behind him walked a younger man, perhaps in his late twenties, short and wiry, with a tanned face and dark eyes. Strands of curly hair poked out from the hood of his black jacket, from which the rain dripped steadily onto his leather trousers and shiny, black pointed-toe boots. He hunched his shoulders against the cold and shivered slightly as gusts of wind whipped around his face, clearly wishing to be anywhere but out in the rain on this bleak December afternoon.
The older man stopped in front of a well-tended grave and bowed his head in silence, as his companion read the inscription on the stone, below the name:
1965 - 2018
A beloved wife, loving mother and doting grandmother.
Always remembered and forever missed.
The older man bent down and gently laid the flowers on the grave, as the rain beat down on their cellophane wrapping. He straightened up, reaching for the younger man’s hand as he drew him closer.
“Two years already – but it seems like only yesterday.”
He murmured the words quietly, almost to himself. Then he spoke more clearly as he lifted his head and appeared to be addressing the gravestone:
“Hello darling. This is Marco. I brought him here because I’ve done as you said and I’m trying to live my life to the full. I’ve taken up golf again, and my handicap’s coming down slowly. Marco’s been working with me, as the new club pro, and he’s made me feel much happier about things.”
He stopped and wiped away a tear, as Marco stifled a sigh and looked around, as if worried that someone might see them, but he stood patiently beside his friend, grimacing only slightly as the monologue resumed:
“The kids are fine and we’re seeing Tom tomorrow. Next month we’re taking BJ to the pantomime for the first time – she’s really excited about it already! I do wish you could have seen little Eddie – he looks just like his Dad and he’s trying to crawl already. But when he’s older they’ll show him photos and tell him all about you.”
He stopped, coughed as if trying to clear a lump in his throat, then wiped away his tears with a large white handkerchief and took a long, deep breath, before continuing:
“Ellie’s coming back from America on Friday and then doing some shooting in Paris, but I’m sure she’ll come up while she’s here.”
He wiped his eyes again and then blew his nose loudly, oblivious to Marco’s wince at the sound and his small backwards step.
“Well Josie, it’s cold and horribly wet again so I think we’d better head off before it gets dark. I miss you, every day. Sleep well, my dear.”
He bowed his head for a moment, then turned and put his arm around Marco’s shoulders. As they walked back towards the car, now sharing the golf umbrella, he stopped for a moment before walking on, with just a brief backwards glance at the last resting place of the only woman he had ever loved.
