Shhh. Come on in. Johnís asleep. Heís been up with Shirley for days, and now that sheís gone down to spend some time at Veraís, heís just crashed.
She did ask me to thank everyone for coming to the funeral and back to the house afterwards. She appreciated it.
I guess I just canít believe heís gone. I have to admit that I never got on with Shirley, but Martin was a special man. He didnít say much, but he was always honest and kind to me. Even after John and I split, he came to visit me at my new flat, brought me some veg from the garden, and we had a nice chat. He understood what was happening, and didnít get judgmental like most people did. Last time I saw him I teased him and said I wouldnít be seeing him much now that he was destined to be such a star. Funny, reallyÖ
I donít even remember my own granddads. Mumís dad died when I was four years old. My dad and I never got on much, and after he split with Mum, I hardly ever saw him, much less the rest of the family. That granddad died when I was a fifth year, but my Nan is still alive. I really ought to go see her, just to say hello and tell her that I think about her sometimes. She sends me cards at Christmas.
Frank thinks Martinís still here, in the house. He died right in this room, before the ambulance could get here. Frank finds comfort, I think, in never letting go. Iíd prefer to think of him somewhere else, somewhere better than this place. Or at least if he is still around, I hope heís in the garden, watching the apples ripen.
John? I donít think he believes it yet. I think heís
just numb. Maybe after heís had some sleep and a little time, heíll be
better. Anyway, thanks for stopping in. Iíll tell him you came.