Back to the Start

Deborah O'Neil listened to the vicar's words as he buried her husband, droning on about ashes and God in a way that only he would have enjoyed. Paul had always loved God, although more because he believed in an eye for an eye than any true belief in the afterlife or God himself. Not that he was a bad man; he had never treat her badly and always remembered her birthday, but he was stubborn to the core and never changed his mind about anything. He wasn't the most sociable of men, nor was he the most understanding, but he always provided for the family.

She missed her husband. Every night since he had gone she would lie in their bed on her own wondering what the point was. The house was empty and everything he had worked so hard to provide seemed empty. Having her children in the house the night before had helped a little, but with Maddie heading back to the West coast and Jason being so distant, it wasn't much of a comfort in the long term. She felt a lonely tear slip down her cheek and instantly wiped it away, a little offended at its presence; she had promised herself that she wouldn't cry. Taking a deep breath she stared ahead as the coffin was lowered into the ground, then sprinkled with holy water. She would be strong now, there was no point crying anymore. Crying wouldn't bring him back and it certainly wouldn't do her mascara any favours.

The icy November rain danced on top of her umbrella, hitting the material then bouncing off again. She was thankful for her thick coat and warm leather gloves for keeping the cold at bay. If only Paul had died in the summer, or at least had the common decency to request a cremation so that she didn't have to grieve in the rain in such an undignified and cold fashion, her patent leather heels digging into the uneven ground beneath her.

The prayers ended and the small crowd dispersed, piling into their cars to escape the cold wind. But Deborah stood there, staring down at the half covered coffin; part of her found it hard to believe he was even in there, but she knew there was no doubt that he was. She would never see him again or listen to his voice, but at least she wouldn;t have to watch him suffer anymore.

“Mrs. O'Neil?”

“Yes?” Deborah turned around, her polite smile dropping away a little as she saw the tall, familiar face staring back at her. His smile was soft, just about reaching his piercing blue eyes. His hair was shorter than she remembered it, cut into a smart style that suited him more than she would care to admit. There was no doubting that he was a handsome man and certainly no doubt that he knew it.

“I know you might not believe me.” He put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “But I was very sorry to hear about you husband.”

“I believe you,” she said. “Thank you, Mr. Bailey.”

“I prefer Alex.”

“Well, I prefer Mr. Bailey.”

“I really prefer Alex.” He smiled a little.

“Alright.” Deborah sighed in defeat. “Walk me to my car?”

“Of course.”

He took hold of her umbrella and let her slip her arm through his as she led the way towards the path where her car waited. They took a few steps forward in a slightly uncomfortable silence.

“You haven't changed one bit,” she said. “You hardly look a day older than the last time I saw you.”

“I was about to say the same thing about you.”

“It's the Botox.”

Alex laughed a little. “Well, it certainly suits you.”

“You're still as charming I see?”

“My Grandma always said I could charm the pants off a nun.”

“A nun?” she chuckled. “More like a Vicar.”

“Touché.”

“How long has it been since we last saw each other, Alex?” She questioned him as they reached the car. “Three years?”

“Three and a half,” he corrected. “Three years and seven months if you want to be specific about it.”

“That's an awfully long time.”

“I've got to say, I was very surprised when I received your call.”

“Not as surprised as I was to make it.” She took her umbrella from him and put it down, then looked at the sky as it cleared, the blue sky breaking through the clouds. “ I don't want you here and we need to be clear about that.”

“You certainly know how to make a guy feel loved.”

“I didn't ask you here for you to restart your relationship with my son,” she said firmly. “You know how Paul and I felt about it and that hasn't changed.”

“So, did you just ask me to come so that you could insult me to my face?” Alex asked. “Because I have better things to do than stand here and take abuse from you.”

“I just need to be clear.”

“Then I just need to go.”

Alex turned to leave, stopped only by the presence of her hand grabbing his arm.

“Jason won't talk to me,” she said. “Not to me, or his sister, or any of his friends. He just behaves like everything is the same and nothing has changed. He wouldn't even come today to say goodbye.”

“And what do you expect me to do about it?” He turned back to face her, putting his hands into his pockets. “We haven't spoken for three and a half years and we didn't end things on particularly good terms. Which, by the way, was mostly your husbands fault.”

“I just thought he might talk to you.”

He stood for a moment to think it over. He hadn't seen Jason for such a long time and although their breakup hadn't been messy, it certainly didn't end on good terms either. Once they broke off their relationship they hadn't even tried to remain friends. He didn't know how he would cope with seeing him on such a hard day without a word of warning, but if there was one thing Alex knew, it was that he couldn't walk away without seeing him when he was so close.

“I'm not doing this for you,” he said firmly. “And if he asks me why I'm here I'm not going to lie.”

“Good. Then you can come back with me.”

The journey back to the house seemed longer than he expected. Maybe it was the tense feeling in the back of the car, sitting next to a woman he was pretty sure hated him, or perhaps it was the uneasy feeling of not knowing how Jason was going to react, but it certainly wasn't a pleasant experience. Deborah O'Neil was one of those ladies who always seemed to have herself together, but in some ways she was as broken as they come. She had never really had a life outside her children and her late husband completely dominated her. Alex wasn't sure if she had ever had a thought that hadn't been implanted by another person.

The street was busy when they arrived. Every spare curb was taken up by a car of a guest, parked bumper to bumper to fit as many in as possible. For someone who hated so many people, he certainly had a lot of people at his funeral. It was hard to think of him as a person who had actually had friends, but deep down and away from his bigotry he obviously had some likeable traits.

Alex let Deborah go ahead of him, making sure she was a good distance away before he entered. He had no intention in getting swept up in the condolences, handshakes and hugs that she would undoubtedly be receiving. He wanted to stay as far away from that as possible; he was only there for one person and he wasn't even sure how that was going to go. When Jason caught his eye, he was in the corner of the room setting up a table of food dressed in kitchen whites. From a distance anyone who was unfamiliar with him wouldn't even consider he was part of the family, but Alex knew better.

He walked over to him, making sure not to stand too close for comfort. “Hello Jason.”