Part Sixty-Five
Boxing Day morning dawned bright and clear, with the frost glinting on every car down the street. When George had slipped carefully and quietly from the bed, she stood in front of the large window and opened the curtains enough to look out on the glittering world outside. Frost made everything so pretty, she thought to herself as she yawned languidly, giving everything in sight a beauty that was only usually depicted inside a fairy tale. She glanced back over her shoulder at John and Jo, both still sound asleep in her bed, a fact that lit her from within more strongly than anything had in her life before. George felt serene on this cold and frosty morning, with the sun carving jewelled patterns in the half melted ice that dripped from the branches of the trees. After gazing out on this scene of nature's tranquility for a few minutes, George went to take a shower, leaving the other two occupants of the bed to carry on sleeping.
Standing under the hot, powerful spray of the shower, George's thoughts strayed back to the previous evening. She'd had no idea about what Jo and John had planned for her, and it had been an incredible surprise. She would never have thought Jo quite so open-minded, but she guessed that anything was possible. She only just prevented herself from groaning in real, authentic pleasure at the memory of what they had both done to her, but she didn't want to wake them up. She ran her hands over her body, feeling the slight stiffness in her shoulders from having her arms tied behind her for so long. But it was a pleasant stiffness, a physical reminder of being tied up, of being at both their mercies. She ran her hands over her breasts, smoothing in the shower gel as she went. But as her right hand languidly swept over her left breast, her fingers gently caressing every inch, she stopped in astonishment, her fingers retracing their steps so as to be sure. There it was again, that hard, unfamiliar little lump under the skin. In a state of complete and utter shock, George again and again ran her fingers over the surrounding area, but the lump was still there, still under the skin, still indisputably wrong.
After leaving Helen and Nikki's late the night before, Karen had taken a taxi home and left her car there. She'd had far too much drink to drive, so went back to retrieve her car in the morning. She didn't disturb them, seeing that all the curtains were closed with absolutely no sign of life. Karen had something else to do that day, something that required a long drive. She was going to visit the place where she'd scattered Ross's ashes at the beginning of August. The roads were quiet in the early morning, and she drove down the M3 with nothing but purpose in her hands and under her wheels. This was her day to try and make peace with her dead son, to try and lay some of the past finally to rest. She had enjoyed yesterday, a realisation that surprised her. She'd needed to go into Larkhall, to visit those who were the only family she had left now, and to give them the best time within her capability. She hadn't been sure about spending the rest of the day with Helen and Nikki, but she was glad now that she had agreed to it. They'd eaten dinner, mostly cooked by Nikki, consumed a fair amount of wine, and above all relaxed. It had been an undemanding day, precisely what they all had needed.
But now, in the cold but sunny morning, Karen was driving further and further away from any possibility of a peaceful haven. She needed to visit her son's last resting place, almost to make sure that he was happy where she'd left him. She drove along all the familiar roads, eventually ending up in the small fishing village that at this time of the year was empty of any hint of tourists. The streets were absolutely devoid of people, all the houses shut tight against the bitterly cold wind that tore at her clothes as she got out of the car.
As Karen began to walk up the cliff path, she briefly wondered at the sense of doing something like this on a day like today. The wind whistled round her, blowing her hair into a wild nest of fronds that resembled one of the windblown plants that grew along her path. But the sun was bright, and there was no hint of rain, and Karen was determined to reach the top. The path was entirely empty of walkers, it not being a day for even the most committed of people. She fastened her coat up round her to try and keep out some of the cold, and breathed in the intoxicating smell of the sea. The tang of the salt settled in her nose, bringing back a whole host of memories of when she used to bring Ross here as a child. The wind only became wilder the higher she climbed, and she spared a thought to wonder at the wisdom of coming up here on a day like this.
When she eventually reached the plateau, the little space at the very end of the cliff, where the rocks tapered out into thin air, she sat down on the low wall and looked out to sea. Here was where she had left him, here was where she had scattered his ashes, and watched them float out on the breeze, ever to be swallowed up by the waves. She could feel the salty spray on her face, and knew that if she were to stand on the very edge of this rocky point, the wind would very likely take her away. She sat there for quite some time, thinking of Ross, and feeling an enormous amount of regret for what she hadn't been able to do for him. When she'd been there for a good while, she said into the wind, "I hope you're happier now, wherever you are." She couldn't have meant any sentiment more than this one, because she needed to know that for him at least, his suicide hadn't been in vain.
When she returned to the car, she felt a little cleansed, as though the first major hurdle in her grieving process had been circumnavigated successfully. The weight of grief and guilt whenever she thought about him seemed ever so slightly less, something for which she could only be thankful. The first three years were the worst, or so the saying went, and she had managed to get through nearly five months so far. No, it hadn't been easy by any means. She had been very low on several occasions, low enough to take a blade to her skin, but for now, she seemed to have come through it and out the other side. It was mid afternoon when the phone call came, and she was driving along the M3.
"Karen, it's George," Said the voice over the hands free phone, that voice she knew so well. "Hello," Karen replied, realising that she had barely spoken to anyone all day. "How was your Christmas?" "Oh, all right," George said a little distractedly. "I saw Charlie, I saw Daddy, and I spent last night with Jo and John." "That sounds good," Karen said with a smile. "It was," George replied with a slight smirk in her voice. "John dug out the silk scarves without telling me beforehand." "Lucky John," Karen said with a laugh, George's references to the three of them no longer painful to her. "Darling, are you in the car?" George asked, wondering where on earth Karen had been. "I tried to get you at home but there was no answer." "Yes," Karen replied succinctly. "I've been to the place where I scattered Ross's ashes. It was just something I needed to do today." "Are you all right?" George asked in concern, wishing that Karen hadn't chosen to go there alone. "Yes, as odd as it sounds, I'm okay," Karen told her. "You'll think me a complete loony, but I asked him if he was happy." "I take it you didn't get an answer?" George asked with a smile. "I'd know that I'd really lost it if I had," Karen replied. "Anyway, to what do I owe the pleasure?" "Oh, I just wanted a chat, that's all," George said evasively, the weight of her discovery pressing down on her like a twenty-pound necklace. But as they talked some more, Karen couldn't help but think that George was keeping something from her, something that was clearly worrying her but which she couldn't talk about. George on the other hand knew that she should tell someone, anyone about what she'd found, and she also knew that Karen would be better than anyone, but the words simply refused to come. Give it some time, she told herself, let it settle in before confiding in anyone else.