The words had escaped before his brain even had time to process them. The look of horror on her face was enough to tell him it was too late to take them back.
“Oh my god,” she gasped her hand moving to cover her mouth.
A heavy silence fell between them. His mind was whizzing through ways he could take this back but it was coming up blank. There were tears now. Big, thick ones that were dripping at an alarming rate. Why the fuck had he said that? He hadn’t intended to. When he had started the sentence it was in a very different place. He was going to be honest. But when the moment came the lie just slipped out. Of its own accord. Shit. What had he done? Why had he told her his girlfriend was dead?
“How did it happen?” she asks through loud sobs.
Now is the time to come clean. Say it was a joke. Yeah she’s dead, dead tired hey oh! Or maybe he could fake a stroke. Or even say he has a brain tumour that makes him say inappropriate things. Whatever he says he needs to bring this charade to an end now before it goes too far and anyone else gets involved.
“Cancer, it was cancer. She didn’t want anyone to know,” he adds quickly.
Who are you? Why are you saying these things? You can’t say she’s died of cancer she could literally walk through that door again at any moment.
“You’re being very brave Steve. You don’t need to be, let it out I’m here for you. Do you need a hug?”
Before he can answer her she embraces him tightly. He can feel her heavy breasts rubbing against his chest. Can he get away with copping a feel? He’s a grieving widow after all, no one’s likely to suspect him of anything seedy right now. Before he has a chance to scrape the bottom of the barrel of depravity she pulls away from him and looks at him sadly.
“You’re going to be okay Steve, I promise.”
“Thanks Caroline,” he mumbles quietly trying to think of a way of getting out this mess “I’ll go make us a cup of tea shall I?”
He returns from the kitchen a few minutes later with two hot mugs of tea and ready to confess that he whole thing has been just a huge mistake. His heart sank. She had her phone in her hand and was texting furiously.
“Tea’s up. Who you texting?” he asks in what he hopes is a nonchalant manner.
“The rest of the gang,” she answers with a sad family “they all want to be here for you.”
“Great,” he replies with a strained smile.
Holy fucking shit. His tiny white lie has now ballooned into something Jeffrey Archer would be proud of. If he was Pinocchio, you would literally be able to ride his nose all the way to the moon. He was telling more lies than a Conservative manifesto and he couldn’t stop himself.
Not long after there was a knock at the door. He opened it and was greeted by his and Claire’s closest friends. The old gang. And now they all thought Claire was dead. It was hard to know what to say. They took his silence as a sign of his deep sadness completely oblivious to the fact he was lying his arse off to all of them.
“To Claire,” said Kevin raising a glass as they all gathered in the back garden.
“To Claire,” they all replied.
“To Claire,” added Steve a moment after already feeling light headed after polishing off half a bottle of wine.
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” said Michael quietly “I only spoke to her on Thursday and she never said a word.”
“Oh I could tell something wasn’t right when I last saw her,” said Philip.
Fucking Philip. Steve knew that Philip had always been desperate to get into Claire’s knickers even if she was completely oblivious to the fact. They had met at art college and he was the typical douche bag you would expect to have attended art college. Always wearing turtle necks and being sensitive and understanding. He got right on Steve’s tits.
“It was last Tuesday at the Red Lion, I had just nipped in after rehearsals had finished, for the Scottish play you know,” he continued.
Just call it Macbeth you fucking cunt thought Steve. Could he get away with punching him and blaming it on the grief? He probably could now but as soon as the truth came out he knew darling Philip would be pressing charges. He could already hear it “it’s for your own safety my love, if he could strike someone as sweet and good natured just imagine what he could do to you!” Last Tuesday was when the arguments had started.
“I ran into her and she looked so sad. I took her hands and looked into her eyes and I begged her to tell me what was wrong.”
Oh I bet you did you fucking prick.
“She just laughed and told me everything was fine. I looked into those beautiful eyes and I felt like someone had walked on my grave. I think part of me knew that would be the last time I ever saw her.”
Shows what you know you sanctimonious prick. I can’t wait to see your face when she turns up again thought Steve savagely. It would almost be worth it just to see that smug look wiped right off your face.
“When is the funeral Steve?” asked Lisa who had been silently crying since she had arrived.
“Oh erm,” he stuttered panicking slightly “I hadn’t even thought about it.”
This at least was true. As there hadn’t actually been a death he hadn’t even considered the funeral. Surely now was the best time to come clean and stop this madness before it went too far.
“We’ll help you in any way we can you know that Steve don’t you?” said Caroline squeezing his hand in a supportive manner.
“Did the two ever talk about… what she might like?” asked Michael tactfully.
Now you idiot. Tell them the truth now!
“Oh yes we talked about it a lot,” the lies just slid off his tongue without permission “you know towards the end.”
Michael squeezed his shoulder tightly and Lisa sobbed loudly again.
“If it’s too soon mate, we don’t need to talk this,” said Kevin.
“No it helps to talk,” replied Steve.
Did it? Did it really? Helped dig him a bigger fucking hole for them to bury him in perhaps.
“As you all know Claire was a very spiritual person. She loved nature and she loved the great outdoors.”
Was that true? In their six years had she ever showing any sort of love of nature and the great outdoors. Admittedly they had once had sex under Blackpool Pier but he wasn’t sure that counted. And was she in anyway spiritual? He could remember ever discussing spirituality or philosophy with her ever. He didn’t even know if she classed herself as religious in any way. He was too writing he was a Jedi on the census to see what she had put.
“She obviously wanted something quiet and close to nature. Nothing official or religious in any way at all,” he continued looking hopefully around them.
They all nodded in agreement as if that sounded like the Claire they had known.
The drinking had gone on long into the night and they spent the time toasting the memory of dearly departed Claire. Steve was amazed at how easily it was for them all to forget every crossed word, every drunken argument and how easy it was to praise her to the heavens. If the Pope had stopped by he would probably have been convinced to nominate her for sainthood. The following day Steve woke up about midday only because he could feel something buzzing through the cushions of the settee he had fallen asleep on. He slid his hand down the back and found a phone, Claire’s phone! He swiped open the lock screen and saw a handful of missed calls and a few text messages. He knew he shouldn’t look but he couldn’t help himself. The missed calls were from him, he had rung her several times after she had stormed out and assumed she was ignoring him when she didn’t answer. There were three unread text messages. The first was a notification that her phone bill was now due for payment, the second was alerting her to the PPI compensation she was now due and the last one was from Philip.
I know you will never read this message but it is the only way to soothe my soul which weeps for you now you are forever lost to me. I wish I had the nerve to tell you this whilst you were here but I feared rejection so much. I couldn’t stand the thought of you rejecting me when I told you that I loved you. I have from the moment I saw you on registration day and that love has only grown stronger. But now you are gone and my heart is broken forever more. I love you Claire, I hope deep down you knew that.
Aye she knew that ya wee prick thinks Steve viciously luckily she could see what a monumental bellend you were. He’s half tempted to send him a reply, scare the living shit out of him, but he knows it’s not worth it. He can’t help thinking he’s very lucky Claire left her phone. He was bloody lucky she kept losing the damn thing. If she had seen that text there would have been hell to pay. He deletes it quickly. This whole thing is really getting out of hand now. He needs to come clean before things go too far.
Two weeks later he is sat in the front row at the crematorium. Next to him Caroline is dressed in a figure hugging black dress that seems almost obscene. As he sits there looking at a casket that is weighed down with two bags of sand, Claire was hardly a skinny lass, he wonders just what he’s going to tell her when she finally comes back. He knows she’s at her mother’s house in Cornwall. It’s where she always goes when they’ve had a huge fight and he knows eventually she will be back. She normally just needs a couple of weeks to cool down. He glances at his watch almost as if he is counting down the seconds until she returns home. He has fully expected to be rumbled before it got this far. There have been a few close shaves. Why hasn’t there been an obituary in the paper? (oh there has but it was in the local Cornwall paper as that’s where she’s from I’ll get you a copy), why aren’t her parents coming to the funeral? (it’s just too hard for them, we’re having a private service just for family later), why is Dave from the local pizzeria here? (Claire loved Marco’s Pizzeria and Dave had always been her favourite delivery driver). He could hardly admit that he’d had to bulk out the crowd a bit with people who didn’t know who Claire was. He dreaded to think what anyone would say if they realised that the whole back row had come straight from the YMCA and were still wearing the piss stained shoes. Now the priest (a young aspiring actor who was up for any role as long as the price was right) asked Steve to say a few words in memory of the love of his life. Maybe now was the time to come clean? He took out the speech he had spent all week preparing (how was he going to explain that one to the court appointed psychologist he was expecting to meet very soon?) and glanced at the door. He half expected Claire to come bursting through those large wooden doors and demand an explanation. However, she didn’t and he was forced to give a speech on just how wonderful their time together had been and how sad he was now it was over.
Of course Philip had to say a few words. He gave quite a performance too, hammier than a spam factory, and wept for a good few minutes draping himself over the casket and demanding to know why someone so beautiful and pure would be snatched away so cruelly. Even Dave the pizza boy stood up and said what an amazing tipper she had been and how his life would certainly not be as rich without her in it. Steve was convinced the game was up at this point but the gullible idiots he called friends lapped it up. Everyone had a good thing to say about Claire now she was dead. Then it was time for a final goodbye as the coffin began to move towards the inferno that would soon devour it. The sound system pumped in a dreadfully maudlin cover of Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up sung by some breathy young woman who seemed to get a deep sexual thrill from each word. For the first time in his life Steve really appreciated just how much he hated Rick Astley.
The urn of ashes sat on the coffee table, pride of place next to the Sky remote and the latest issue of the Radio Times, and Steve couldn’t help his eyes flashing back to it every few seconds. He couldn’t help think at this point that things had gone too far. The old gang had insisted on having a wake. It’s what she would have wanted, of course, and it had to be at the house where she was happiest. Apparently they were completely oblivious to the regular arguments they had. Philip had brought a beautiful mural of Claire he had created himself. Well he might as well put his art degree to some use eh? It was a photo mosaic of Claire’s face composed of a hundred polaroid photos of her encompassed in a giant heart with Claire 4ever written in big red letters. Steve could taste the bile in the back of his throat. Caroline had brought a hundred helium balloons, each one with a picture of Claire crudely printed on, and they were now floating around the living room.
“I thought we could release them outside,” she had explained excitedly “then we can watch them all float away to join her in heaven. She’ll know we’ve been thinking of her then.”
Steve felt incredibly guilty. They had all gone to a lot of effort and it was all for nothing. Claire wasn’t even dead and he was fairly sure when she found out about what had been going on it was far more likely he would be the one to die. There was no point in denying it now was the time to come clean and tell everyone the truth. Before things went too far.
“Excuse me everyone can I have your attention please,” he said as he tapped on his glass loudly with a spoon.
“Speech!” called Kevin and the others soon joined in chanting it repeatedly.
Steve grinned sheepishly.
“There’s something I really need to tell you all…”
The front door opened and a voice called “Steve I’m home. I think we really need to talk.”
Let Me Tell You A Story... 