The Wake

Six different kinds of brandy. Only miniatures. Wouldn't hurt.
Lovely names to roll off the tongue. Courvoisier, Armagnac, Cognac,
De Valcourt Napoleon, Diplomat. Sensuous. Straight from the bottle.
Much better than that rough stuff she had used to stiffen her courage
ahead of the funeral. She felt a little disconnected. She was sure
there was something important she needed to do. No matter. It would
come back to her.

The phone call had been a shock. Still seemed unreal. Even the viewing
at the funeral parlour couldn't entirely convince her. But she had
pretended it was real and made all the arrangements calmly and
painstakingly, terrified that she might overlook something. It was a
big responsibility, being executor of the will.

She lined up the little bottles in a neat row, then downed them one
after the other. Goodness, it was hard to work out which one she
preferred. They all tasted so good. So smooth. What was it she had to
do? She should probably check her lists. Final duty at the final party
in the ancestral wotsit and all that. The disconnected feeling
increased.

'Alright Della?' That was Sian. Ex-sister-in-law. Provider of brandy.
Mother of nieces. Long black hair. Always looked gorgeous. Bitch.
'Fine.'
'Do you want a cuppa, Auntie Dell?' Zoe looked concerned.
She shook her head. The room spun in an interesting, but slightly
nauseating fashion.

'Here, the bucket.' Her brother, Steve, shoved it under her face. She
peered at him suspiciously. She pushed the bucket away, and was sick on
the carpet. Charmaine, her other niece, went to fetch a cloth.

'I love you, you know,' she said to Zoe. 'I've always thought you were
special. Don't let anyone tell you any different. Right?' Her niece
smiled warily at her.

She found the smell of the disinfectant overpowering. She stood up.
'Got to go to the loo,' she said. The colours in the dining room
matched the colours on the Dyson. White walls with lilac and pistachio
green. Dad had told her on the phone that he had repainted. And that
he'd bought a new vacuum. He was dead chuffed. He'd been getting
everywhere ready. Making it neat and tidy. The green leered at her. She
shut her eyes till she was safely out in the hall. There were people
sitting on the stairs. They stared at her, then moved aside.

She must have passed out in the bathroom. Someone was shouting and
banging on the door.

'Yeah yeah, I'm okay,' she said thickly. She rinsed out her mouth. The
water tasted clean and cool. The mirror grimaced at her. What a sight.
She splashed water onto her face and dabbed at the stains on her
jacket. Didn't seem to make much difference. Oh well, better go face
the music. She prepared her face in what she hoped was a dazzling
soap-queen-in-the-face-of-tragedy smile, and unlocked the door.

There were fewer people now downstairs. The dining room was heavy with
tension. Steve was unnaturally stiff and hunched over the table, his
fingers clenched round a beer glass.
'Where's Sian?'
'I chucked her out. She had no business coming. I told her. She ain't
part of this family. She's not welcome here. She never was. She never
did anything for Dad. Me and Charmaine were the ones who were always
here. She can piss off back to that dickhead boyfriend of hers.'
'What she do?'
'None of your business. I ain't going to be crossed by nobody today. I
just ain't in the mood.' Steve's current girlfriend made sympathetic
noises beside him and timidly stroked his back. He shrugged her off,
just as Sian slammed back into the room.

Charmaine and Zoe were huddled in the kitchen, making yet more tea. Zoe
had been crying.
'You all right?' asked Della.
'Yeah. Mum and Dad are having one of their rows. You know what they're
like.'
Della knew. The three of them sat in the kitchen and listened to the
raised voices in the next room.

'Good job your Grandad's not here. You know what he'd say,' commented
Della.
'Yeah. He'd tell them to go and argue somewhere else,' Zoe said
vehemently.
The minutes passed. Della's head was pounding. She automatically
reached into a cupboard. The cupboard was empty.
'Grandad had a big clearout,' said Charmaine. 'Chucked out loads of
stuff. Only kept what he thought he would need.'
Zoe wiped her eyes. 'Well, he don't need none of it now,' she
said.
'Any paracetamol?' Della asked.
'Medical box above the sink.'

Sian and Steve were screaming at each other now. Someone kicked the
door and a chair crashed over.

'I expect Grandad's with Nana now,' said Zoe.
'Yeah, and Max. Taking him for a nice long walk somewhere,' said
Della.
'I hope so,' said Charmaine.
'Let's go sit in the garden,' said Della.

Outside the sun was still warm. Della sat on the swing and pushed off
gently against the path. She looked at the snowdrops which had been
fooled into thinking it was spring. The girls leaned on the frame,
giving her the odd push.
'Do you ever get the feeling you've forgotten something?' asked Della
after a while.
'Senile dementia,' suggested Zoe.
'What do you mean?' said Charmaine.
'Well, I have this feeling, like there's something I should do, but I
don't know what it is. It's really bugging me.'
'Can't be that important then', said Zoe.
'Nah.' Della continued swinging.