Hit and Run by Maria Frankland (best book recommendations txt) 📗

“Yes, maybe give his full name, Robert Lee Matherson, right at the beginning.”

“I take it you want me to deliver the eulogy; you’ve no desire to do it yourself.”

“None.” I smile, despite the situation. “I can’t imagine anything worse.”

“How many people are you expecting? So I know which chapel to prepare.”

“We’re catering for seventy at the wake, so around that number.”

“OK. Right, let’s return to the background details. You were telling me about Rob’s parents, and how they struggled financially.”

“Yes. But there didn’t seem to be a shortage of love.” I think of my own mother and almost grit my teeth before continuing. “They had days out in Scarborough, on the bus, and he often talked about his mother’s wonderful cooking and ability to make something out of nothing. He’s said before, that he never heard a cross word between his parents.” Unlike us, I resist adding. I glance around my lounge before absentmindedly continuing. “I’m going to have to go through all these photographs. I can’t stand Rob staring at me from every corner. Once Friday is over…”

“What about his education?” Joseph asks, his pen poised over his clipboard. He has got one of the most groomed beards I have ever seen. Dad would be jealous of it. Rob tried growing a beard after we got engaged, but it was a different colour to the rest of his hair – he looked strange. I told him I wouldn’t kiss him unless he shaved it off.

“He passed his eleven plus, so went to grammar school. Apparently, he was quite academic, great at sport too – he still is… was.”

“It must be really hard for you, all this.” Joseph glances up from his writing. “You’re doing really well. Tell me about his sports.”

“From what he’s said over the years, he took part in everything,” I reply. “He’s always been modest, but he seemed to have been one of those popular boys at school, looked up to by others, and good at whatever he put his mind to.” Unlike me, I want to chip in again. It’s no wonder I ended up on the drink. I didn’t stand a chance in life with the mother I’ve got.

“Did Rob have any other family?”

“He went on to marry, after his first engagement broke up.”

“What was his first wife’s name?”

“Denise. They have a ten-year-old daughter together. Simone.” I really, really hope Simone doesn’t come on Friday. She’ll make it all about her, they both will. I glance at the photograph of her on the mantlepiece. That is coming down.

“Can you tell me about Rob’s career?”

I can’t tell him the truth – that he got sacked for embezzling money from his employers. It will have to be a partial truth. Rob’s lucky I’m sat here, arranging all this for him. If the shoe had been on the other foot, with the betrayal, fraud, and deceit I’m having to endure, Rob would have had me burnt at the stake, never mind at a crematorium.

“He went from doing, I think, it was Maths, Physics and History at A-Level, to a Degree in Business and Finance. He spent most of his career with Bracken Furniture. I used to go on at him to be more ambitious. But he was happy there.”

“And settling in a job makes some people happy, doesn’t it?” Joseph loosens his tie. “Not everyone wants to move around.”

“I’ll open a window.” In two movements, I’m out of my seat and letting some air in. “It’s always too warm in here.”

“What else can you tell me about Robert?”

“He adored his son, Jack, and got on well with my Dad, Roger. He had lots of good friends at his cycle club and his golf club. He loved both – he died whilst out on his bike.”

“I heard. I can’t imagine what you must be going through. No one expects to lose their spouse at your age.”

I expect most wives would be in floods of tears in front of a funeral celebrant by now. Not me. I’m more curious about the word celebrant. It’s a strange word to describe a person who officiates a funeral.

“Anything else? What about closer friends, or things he was passionate about? What made Rob, Rob?”

If Bryony were sat in my place, she’d probably be able to give a very detailed answer. She would claim to have known him far better than I did. Rob and I never really had the sort of heart-to-hearts and intimacy that a lot of couples say they have. Either I was too drunk, or he was too tired. Our relationship became perfunctory.

I don’t think he was far from leaving me. I’m unsure what to tell this man. But I must tell him something. “He loved the Hornby set, which he set up with our son. His own dad had apparently wanted one for him, but could not afford it back then. Rob loved Only Fools and Horses, and his favourite band was Coldplay.”

“Ah, that reminds me, what songs would you like, going in, and at the end.”

The end. I’m dreading that. When the final curtain draws around his coffin. I always thought they derived the term the final curtain from theatre performances, but I have a new perspective now. I’ve already thought about music. I didn’t mean to, but it was going around and around my head in the middle of the night, like everything does. “It’s got to be Yellow by Coldplay on the way in, and Someone Like You, by Adele, at the end. It was ‘our’ song.

I’m devastated by what’s come to light since Rob died, and that it has confirmed my suspicions about his friendship with Bryony. However, I am gutted he’s dead. I miss him more than I could have ever thought possible. I’ve just got to get through Friday. Another thing I decided in the middle of the night is that I’m going to make an appointment to see him before his funeral. If I don’t, I think