CHAPTER 90
I held it together for the next few days, at least in public, although it was nearly impossible when Rosie let me know the time and place of Carl’s funeral, because the only thoughts going through my head right then were variations on ‘Not FAIR!’, and that wasn’t a good way to approach my life. I had duties, I had obs, I had girls who had survived far more than I had ever head to face, for they had done it without my amazing luck in finding Mam and Dad. For the funeral, I would have my sister with me. What had my girls been left to keep them safe?

I spent more than a few hours at the University Hospital, getting to know Lexie, and that in itself was worthwhile. She was a sharp girl, as I should have expected, given who she was working with, and she was close enough in age to most of my brood that there was an overlap in interests, experiences and priorities, while I was just another ‘Older person’, at least at first. One thing became clear quickly, and that was her utter and compete adoration, hero-worship, of Diane.

I was sitting with Gemma one afternoon, Charlie and Tiff due in to tag-team us, when that woman walked in, looking utterly professional in a trouser suit, as long as you kept your gaze below her neck, as she was crap at hiding her relief at seeing Lexie grinning and tucking into yet another box of Gemma’s fancies. There were a couple of flickers of expression before it settled into ‘cheeky colleague, and she walked to the bed to squeeze Lexie’s hand.

“Hiya, mate. Going to keep your head down next time?”

“Sod off, Di. How long did they keep me under?”

Another series of visible wobbles crossed Di’s face, and I understood almost immediately: should have been there, should have stopped it happening, my fault, you should hate me…

Everything Steve Elliott had written about survivor guilt, the emotion that had shone from the eyes of that old man from the war, all the others I had seen on the telly. ‘Should have been me’. Diane gathered her own class to her again, and I remembered Rosie’s description of her. No, not hard, but strong when it was needed.

“God knows, love. There was all sorts going on, and I was a bit out of the loop. How are you feeling?”

Lexie winced.

“Would it be a bit obvious to say I’ve got hell’s own headache? Doc tells me they had to do some serious shit on me, relieving pressure and stuff. Depressed fracture of the skull, he says. I’ve got a trench all the way down one side of my head. What state is my helmet in?”

Once more, I could feel the hidden words, which were so obviously ‘Don’t want to talk about this’.

“Left side ripped right off, Lexie. Did its job”

“I didn’t, though, did I? Stupid thing to do!”

“Learning curve, girl. Steep one, in our job, always is. Gemma getting you fat?”

My girl started to rise, but Lexie waved a hand at her, grinning happily.

“Aye, and the others. Charlie, Tiff, they are all in every day. I’ve started giving chocs away to the nurses, they bring so many, and then there’s the team. Candice is the worst, I tell you, and then that Chris is round every day to see his boyfriend and, well, I am going to be the Cardiff Lard Monster when I get out”

My assessment of Lexie’s fitness for her job was confirmed when she clearly caught Di’s wobbles, and her tone changed quickly.

“You OK, yourself?”

Cracks were showing now in Di’s control, as she shook her head, even though she tried to contradict the gesture.

“Well, suppose so. Just finished the wash-up with the Complaints bods, and that seemed to go OK. Just got to get on with the routine again, now. I seriously hope we do get some bloody routine for a bit; last few months have been rather heavy. You know something?”

That spark of humour was fighting back, and Lexie bit.

“What?”

“I was just thinking we’ve done enough to earn our pensions, and, well, retirement suddenly looked attractive!”

Better ground to take that solid footing on that Dad had spoken to me about so, so often. I found the most genuine laugh I could, and when it emerged, it actually felt real to me.

“Like hell it does! Not you, Diane. You’re like that Elaine, copper to the core. Anyway, when Lexie gets out, we will have a proper party. Any objections?”

There was relief in Diane’s voice, but her next words were far from reassuring.

“Not from me, Deb. Could I have a quick word? Just the two of us?”

Shit. I rose.

“Come on, then. Sluice room?”

I knew the way, as Lexie had failed to keep all of Gemma’s stuff down a couple of times, and sod letting some poor nurse deal with that while I sat on my arse. I walked ahead of Di, and as she entered she pushed the door shut behind her. Straight to the point, as ever, her voice soft.

“Pig spoke about you, Deb. Right at the end”

I think it was that softness, the concern she had for all around her, and I was suddenly without strength, my dams breaking, and she did exactly what I would have done, wrapping me up until I could stand again and wipe my tears.

“Deb? Speak to me. Please”

Decision made. She had been with him, with my only love, where I should have been, and she had honoured him, at the end, something neither Rosie nor I could have done. Obs, Petrie.

“Not here, Di. Not now. Got to be strong. Charlie and Tiff are due in twenty minutes, so if you don’t mind, drive me out somewhere quiet, or take a walk, and we’ll talk. And not bloody Southerndown beach, OK?”

I wobbled once more, but she held me up, and we washed our faces and repaired the minimal war paint I used, before returning to the room, where I really believe we fooled neither Gemma nor Lexie. The former was away quarter of an hour later, when Marty was due to pick her up, and a little afterwards, Charlie and Tiff walked in, and it was clear that neither of them was fooled in any way by my smile. Di was on her feet by then, hugging the two, and then waving me out of the room.

I walked with her to the main entrance, and she looked at the sky before putting her keys back in her handbag.

“Sod driving at this time of day, Deb. Park round the back. That do?”

I nodded, and we walked into Heath Park, where there was a little bridge over a stream, where I found myself remembering days in another green space, another little bridge and stream, Sam whittling Pooh sticks. One more gone too soon. Diane had questions, though, and they were about Carl.

“He said he remembered you, Deb. You and your parents, he said”

Breathe, Petrie. Time to let a servant of The Man know exactly who she had been dealing with, the man, the human being, rather than the patch and the stereotype.

“Aye. He was always about at rallies, especially down this way. Had a flag, needed to wave it. Way of things with MCs”

I was staring out towards the trees, and, bless her, she laid an arm across my shoulders, worry and affection vying for dominance in her voice.

“I got the impression he was a bit soft on you”

I couldn’t help it, and glared not at her, but past her, to her employers, to the bastards who had murdered our lover, my sister’s and mine.

“Who have you spoken to about this, Diane?”

“Nobody, love. I had my mike turned off when he spoke to me”

“Good. Keep it that way, please. Pig…”

That was the name she had been using, so use it for her sake, for the intimacy of his smile could never be hers. I looked away for a while, as a chiffchaff started its sone somewhere nearby, and my random mind wondered whether my birding notebook was in my hand bag before realising that I didn’t carry a handbag on the bike, and…

Stop putting things off, woman, and get on with it.

“I wasn’t sure, you know? I mean, I knew I was a girl, no bloody doubt there. Always had been, always will be. Which way I… My sexuality was another thing. Charlie and the others, the Parsons, they didn’t give a shit whether I was straight or gay or whatever. They just took what they wanted, and what I wanted was of no fucking consequence whatsoever. So I got out, and I was found, and, well, you know how much I loved those two”

“Pig spoke highly of them”

You can have no idea, love, none at all.

“He would do. They were his sort of people. I don’t mean MC types, but they were straight down the line. Always. He would come over every time we were at the same events, always brought a tray of teas over, always remembered how each of us took it, and it was Ken, Dad, who worked it out. As I got older, as I grew up properly, properly for a girl, aye? Pig’s attitude was a little different each time, and don’t laugh, but I really think he was a shy man, at least where women were concerned. I had my own issues, didn’t I?”

Still do, Diane. Always will have. Night by the Taff, fish and chips; a kiss…

“I didn’t know what to think. I liked him, but it was a while before I realised I actually LIKED him, aye? Realised I was straight. I started to flirt a bit, and I always got a smile, and then…”

All fucked over by memory, Frank lost as well as Carl. Fuck you, Cooper.

“It was at a Welsh Coast do, aye? Up in the hills, and they had a bloody good band on, and I was watching the rally virgins get theirs. Always remember that one, two people staked out on the grass, starkers, aye? Everyone chilled, and nobody seeming to mind having a couple of full patches on site. We did some good business there, and it’s a gorgeous spot, and the pub wasn’t bad. Pig did his political bit, with a visiting patch from some English club, and he’s talking to some huge bastard with blonde hair for an hour, and then Dad was closing down the stall early. What are you doing, I say, and he simply says that for once he is at a rally so chilled he is going to take the day off and remember why he loves the scene.

“So he takes Mam over to the pub for a proper meal, not a fry up or a burger, and that’s being sneaky, because Pig offers to look after me, and you know, I liked that idea. Liked it a lot. He’s not that far off my age, not an MC Prez back then, not even called Pig. He was going by Goat at the time; likes his animals, he does. Did. Anyway, we hit the bar, and there’s decent ale, tinned, but still OK, and a disco, and a band, and some of the girls are really letting themselves rock out, and so I take the risk, and for the first time I am ALIVE. He was a good-looking guy before the axe and spade and shit…”

Dark hair and beard, those eyes and smile, all for me and nobody else.

“… and there’s a twinkle in his eyes, and, well. Seems I’m straight when it comes to fucking affairs of the heart. And it’s a pretty normal evening from then on, with us sucking each other’s face off round the back of the stall, and I had enough of a chest back then to appreciate the fact that he was appreciating it, and he had his tent, and…”

Fuck you, you filthy, dirty bastard.

“We went back to his tent, and we did things, and he wanted to do other things and, yes, it is one of the ways girls like me can do those things, and I had already done several things, and then… Then all I could see, all I could hear was fucking Charlie, Charlie who says he fucking LOVES me, and I couldn’t, and he saw, did my Carling, and all he did was lift me up and hold me till morning. I could never let myself go like that again, and he knew, and he never, ever pushed it, never nagged, and that dirty old fucker destroyed my life in so many ways. If I could get away with it…”

I was done, at least in terms of what I could manage for that evening, so I pulled it all in, and looked hard at her,

“No, Diane. Not true. Let that piece of shit rot and suffer, like I have. Now. Change of subject. Will you stand with me at my man’s funeral?”

Whatever it took, I would push it, and Rosie would go with me. Diane had stayed with our man for his final moments, seen him safely away with honour and dignity. She had earned the right.