Youre nothing to himIm his mother, hissed the mother-in-law under her breath.
Shouldnt have called that private doctor, muttered Valerie Preston, adjusting the black shawl over her head. Our GPs been good enough for years. Never let us down.
Marianne silently placed another plate of hot cross buns on the table. The guests had trickled out, leaving only the closest family. The kitchen felt cramped, but no one dared eat in the parlournot with the coffin standing there.
Why so quiet? Valerie pressed, her voice sharp. Regretting the money, are we? Twenty grand for that operation, and what good did it do?
Not now, Valerie, Auntie Clara murmured, but the older woman wasnt listening.
When, then? Her eyes were red, but not from tearsfrom fury. He was my son. I carried him, raised him, put food on the table! And you… you just married him.
Marianne gripped the tea towel in her hands. She wanted to scream, to run, to hidebut she couldnt. Today was Simons funeral. She had to hold it together.
Mum, enough, sighed Victor, Simons younger brother. Todays not the day.
Then when is? Valerie snapped. After we bury him? Should I just bite my tongue while she swans about like she owns the place? This is my home! Simon was born herehe should rest here!
Marianne flinched. Theyd argued all week about the wakeValerie insisted on her cramped flat, while Marianne suggested a quiet pub. But, as usual, the mother-in-law got her way.
Ill… air out the parlour, Marianne whispered, slipping away.
The room was stifling, heavy with the scent of lilies and incense. Simon lay in the coffin, stiff and unfamiliar in his suithed hated suits, always said they strangled him. Jeans and jumpers were more his style.
Why did you leave me? she breathed, stepping closer. How am I supposed to do this alone?
Footsteps padded behind her.
Love, dont torture yourself, Auntie Clara soothed, resting a hand on her shoulder. Wasnt his fault. Bloody cancer.
She says I didnt fight hard enough. That I skimped on his care.
Ah, dont mind her. Griefs turned her bitter. He was her only boyher pride and joy.
And what about my grief? Marianne turned, her eyes raw. Twelve years, Clara. Twelve! I nursed him, quit my job to take him to appointments
I know, love. You were a good wife.
A stranger, she calls me. How? We married in church, talked about kids…
Her voice cracked. Childrenthat dream had slipped through their fingers. Then the diagnosis came, and suddenly, nothing else mattered.
From the kitchen, Valeries voice carried, regaling someone with tales of Simons childhoodhow hed tumbled off his bike and broken his arm.
Rushed him to A&E myself, she declared. Middle of the night, in a cab. Doctor said another hour, and the bone wouldve set wrong.
Marianne remembered Simon laughing about ithow his mum had panicked more than he had. The doctor spent more time calming her than patching up the scraped-kneed boy.
Brave as anything, he was, Valerie went on. Stood up for the little ones at school. Knew how to throw a punch. And in the armyofficer material, that one.
Marianne smiled faintly at the memory of his lettershow he missed shepherds pie, how hed met a girl named Marianne before basic training and couldnt stop thinking about her.
Marianne, love, come see, called cousin Ellie from the kitchen. Valeries got the photo albums out.
The kitchen table was strewn with old pictures. Valerie narrated each one like a museum guide.
LookYear One. Always top of the class, she said, tapping a faded school photo.
Marianne sat beside her, studying the boy in the framesgrinning with a teddy bear, knee-deep in sandcastles.
Here he is at tech college, Valerie turned the page. Brilliant with engines. Could fix anything with a spanner.
He never minded when I stalled the car, Marianne murmured.
Valerie shot her a look. Well, he was kind to everyone. Not just you.
An awkward silence fell. Ellie coughed and asked for more photos.
Post-army, Valerie announced, pointing to a snapshot of Simon leaning against a motorbike, leather jacket and all. Turned heads, this one. Girls queued up.
Marianne remembered their first meetingSimon giving her mate a lift, offering her a ride too, cracking jokes all the way home. Shed thought him the most charming man alive.
Had his pick of girls, Valerie sighed. Never serious, though. Too young to settle down, hed say.
Mum, really? Victor groaned.
What? Its true! Then out of nowheremarried.
Mariannes cheeks burned. Simon had hesitated for months before introducing her. Mums… particular, hed warned.
Lovely wedding, though, Auntie Clara cut in. That three-tiered cake!
I ordered that cake, Valerie corrected. And paid for her dress. Shed no savings.
I had a job, Marianne said softly. Just… not much pay.
Exactly. Simon earned well. Foreman at the plant, promotions every year.
Theyd dreamed of a housesaved every penny. Then the treatments ate through their savings.
He wanted kids, Marianne blurted. Always said, Once Im better
Valerie shut the album with a snap. Best set the table. Vicarll be here soon.
Later, alone with Victor as he smoked on the balcony, Marianne scrubbed plates.
Dont take it personal, he said. She loved him too much, maybe.
I know, she said, back turned. But stranger…?
You werent. You were his wife.
Was, she echoed. Now what am I? A widow? Sounds like someone else.
Youre family. Always will be.
But Marianne knew better. After today, shed return to the tiny flat theyd rented. No more Christmas invites, no birthday calls from Valerie.
That night, after the vicar left and the house emptied, Valerie approached her. Marianne sat by the coffin, clutching Simons photo.
Burials tomorrow, Valerie said quietly. Plot near his dads, in Highgate.
Marianne nodded. Theyd settled it that morning.
And… his things. You taking them, or…?
IIll decide later.
Fine. Theyll keep.
They stood inches apart, separated by griefeach convinced hers was heavier.
Youre nothing to him. Im his mother, Valerie whisperedor maybe Marianne imagined it.
Exhaustion blurred everything.
She looked down at the photoSimon grinning, young and hopeful, back when forever seemed possible.
Forgive me, she breathed, unsure who she meant.
Outside, dusk settled. Somewhere beyond, life moved onwithout Simons laughter, his steady hands, their plans. A life where shed have to learn to be just Marianne again. Not Simons wife. Just… herself.
