It
is her last cigarette of the day, smoked now to take the edge off talking with
a onetime friend of whose status as widow she has only recently been made
aware. Deploring the stink of this habit acquired in the aftermath of her own
first husband’s death, she stands at the rear entrance to the house, speaking
on her mobile telephone and blowing smoke out into the night.
cog:
It is a difficult, there isn’t a single thing anyone can say to alleviate what
you’re, your, well, you know what I mean.
Telephone.
cog:
When did, when was the funeral?
Telephone.
cog:
But in that sort of space you can’t possibly be expected to... Who would expect you to, in such a short
time? Even, even if they felt it was for your benefit, that just strikes
me as being insensitive.
Telephone.
cog:
I still feel sort of, but the... It was different for me though, I mean, the
circumstances were so different. But it was eighteen months. Well, we’d known
each other before, but it was eighteen months after John’s death that we
married, but then, that was, that whole thing was exceptional. And plus
remember I’d moved, I was in a completely different location and I think that
helped to a degree.
Telephone.
cog:
What age are they now?
Telephone.
cog:
God, that is... But of course, and it’s not like we’re going to have any more
anyway, and that sort of
Telephone.
cog:
Well yes but I think bereavement does that anyway, doesn’t it? But in this case
because we were uprooted and... there was that whole fear of us being
next, either me or the kids, that we might also be targeted. Completely
irrational, looking back, but that really drove it home, that whole idea of
life being short, you know what I mean? But even with that, it wasn’t as
if I rushed into anything, and I suppose that would be my advice to you,
for what it’s worth. But don’t let that, I mean that shouldn’t
Telephone.
cog:
Oh God yes it surprised me, I think it surprised me most of all,
but then, I was caught out, sort of, because I was still... All that time I was
grieving for him I was being gnawed at and gnawed at by what I knew was a
really empty... desire for revenge. I wanted someone caught and punished not
just for John but for me too, and that sort of kept me going and nothing else
really intruded on that because I wouldn’t let it, but I knew that wouldn’t
really make any sort of difference, because I really, what I was really longing
for was just to have John back, and that wasn’t going to happen, and I knew
even if they had a suspect or... none of that would make any sort of difference.
Telephone.
cog:
Well no, they never knew. There wasn’t any sort of, there was never
anything to follow up. Didn’t you read all that stuff? It was just so awful.
Telephone.
cog:
It really was, it was just... tremendously hard, and to see his photograph on
the television or in the papers made it, I couldn’t even tell you what that was
like. But they thought it had to be, to do with his job, or with that element
of his work. That’s what they called him, they called him an “abortion doctor”
and they thought perhaps some extreme pro-lifer had shot him but... when he was
killed he, that was a year, over a year after he’d stopped that, so to
me that seemed like grasping at anything to make sense of what had happened.
Telephone.
cog:
Of course, of course, but there was nothing, really. But. But but but. My point
was that my circumstances were... very different. At that point there
was no way you could have convinced me that there might possibly be something
positive on its way, even though I’m sure I felt that things just could not get
any worse. So you mustn’t... You have to do
Telephone.
cog:
No. Don’t. I completely disagree. Completely disagree. That sounds to me like
you’re simply looking for anything that will validate a, a sort of defeatist oh
you know I don’t mean defeatist, but...
Telephone.
cog:
Exactly. And really, what else can you do?
