IN LIFE WE ARE IN DEATH - Part Three

For the next few weeks, Simon and Louise continued to visit the cemetery every Wednesday.

But they did not speak.

Their conversation on the bench seemed to recede into the distance, almost as though it had never happened.

Simon would arrive, visit Lucy’s grave and sometimes sit for a while on the bench. Louise would come to see Frederick and Benjamin. Occasionally they would notice one another, but neither made any effort to continue the conversation they had started.

Life, on the surface at least, seemed to have returned to the way it had been before.

Yet Simon had not forgotten Louise’s offer.

I’ve got time.

The words stayed with him.

He found it difficult to accept what she had offered.

Simon was, after all, a solicitor. More than that, he was a partner in a successful firm. For years he had carefully constructed the person other people saw: composed, professional, dependable and always in control.

He had become very good at it.

Atkinson and Carmichael knew nothing of his Wednesday visits to the cemetery.

They did not need to.

Simon was a partner. He did not have to explain where he went or what he did with his afternoons.

But Louise had unsettled something in him.

There was something about her he could not quite define.

A warmth perhaps.

An understanding.

Or simply the fact that she had offered to listen without asking anything from him in return.

Whatever it was, Simon found himself thinking about her more often than he wanted to admit.

Then, one Wednesday, Louise did not come.

Simon visited Lucy as usual.

He told her about his week, about an irritating client and a case that was taking longer than expected.

Then he walked towards the bench.

He sat down.

Louise was not there.

At first, he thought nothing of it.

Perhaps she was simply late.

People came and went through the cemetery.

An elderly couple tended a family grave.

A woman walked slowly along one of the paths carrying flowers.

A man crossed the grounds with a dog pulling impatiently at its lead.

Simon remained on the bench.

Ten minutes passed.

Then fifteen.

Then twenty.

Still Louise did not appear.

Simon glanced towards the entrance more often than he realised.

Eventually he stood.

He considered returning the following day.

The thought surprised him.

No.

Wednesday was his day.

He would wait until the following week.

As he drove away, he found himself wondering where she had been.

The Following Wednesday

The week that followed was difficult.

Simon was dealing with a particularly demanding case which seemed to consume every available hour. There were constant telephone calls, meetings, revisions and unexpected complications.

By Wednesday afternoon, he was grateful for an excuse to leave the office.

He arrived at the cemetery earlier than usual.

Lucy’s grave was quiet.

Simon spent longer there than normal, then made his way towards the bench.

No Louise.

He sat down.

A few minutes later, he saw her approaching along the path.

For reasons he could not explain, he felt an immediate sense of relief.

Louise saw him and smiled.

She came towards the bench and sat beside him without asking.

For a few moments, neither spoke.

Then Louise broke the silence.

“I’m sorry I missed you last week.”

Simon turned towards her.

“I had some business to attend to.”

He waited.

Louise smiled.

“I had an interview.”

“An interview?”

“With the school where I used to teach.”

Simon looked surprised.

Louise continued.

“Beatrice has been fussing, as usual. She keeps reminding me that it’s nearly a year since Ben died and that perhaps I should think about doing something again.”

Simon said nothing.

“She mentioned the school was still looking for someone. Then, without really asking me, she made a few enquiries with Brian, the headmaster.”

Louise shook her head affectionately.

“That’s Beatrice.”

“And?”

“And Brian wanted to see me.”

“For the job?”

Louise nodded.

“I had the interview last Wednesday.”

That explained her absence.

“They’ve offered me the position.”

Simon looked at her.

Louise sounded genuinely excited.

“They’re willing to let me return on a reduced timetable to begin with. Just until I get back into the swing of things.”

She laughed.

“Of course, Beatrice hasn’t stopped asking whether I’ve made up my mind.”

Until that moment, Simon realised, he had known almost nothing about Louise’s life before the cemetery.

He knew about Frederick.

He knew about Benjamin.

He knew about Benji.

But he had never asked what Louise herself had done.

Louise knew equally little about him.

To her, he was simply the solitary man who came to visit Lucy every Wednesday.

“Well?” Simon asked. “Have you decided?”

Louise looked across the cemetery.

“Yes.”

She smiled.

“I think I’d like to go back.”

“To teaching?”

“Yes. I enjoyed it. And, without sounding too full of myself, I was good at it.”

“I’m sure you were.”

Louise gave him a questioning look.

“You don’t know that.”

“No,” Simon admitted. “But I believe you.”

She smiled.

Simon smiled back.

Then the thought struck him.

If Louise returned to school, Wednesday afternoons might end.

This small routine they had shared for months might simply disappear.

The thought disturbed him more than he expected.

“We could always come on another day,” Louise said.

Simon looked at her.

“To the cemetery, I mean. If Wednesdays become difficult.”

Simon hesitated.

“I’ll have to think about it.”

Louise nodded.

Simon stood.

“I ought to go.”

“All right.”

He left her sitting alone on the bench.

But as he walked back towards his car, Simon knew it was not the cemetery schedule that troubled him.

It was the thought of not seeing Louise.

A Different Invitation

Over the following days, Simon found himself returning to the conversation.

Louise had once offered to listen to him.

He had not accepted.

Not properly.

Now the possibility existed that she might no longer be at the cemetery every Wednesday.

Simon began to think that perhaps the cemetery did not have to be the only place they met.

The idea felt strangely bold.

He dismissed it.

Then reconsidered it.

By the next Wednesday, he had made up his mind.

Simon arrived at Lucy’s grave carrying a cloth and a small bottle of stone cleaner.

The headstone had begun to show marks from the weather.

He carefully cleaned the polished surface, wiping away dirt and rain stains until Lucy’s name became clear again.

When he finished, he stood back.

Then he walked towards the bench.

Louise joined him a few minutes later.

She sat down.

“I’ve decided,” she said almost immediately.

Simon looked at her.

“I’m going back to school.”

“I thought you might.”

“I start next month.”

“You’re pleased?”

“I think so.”

She smiled.

“Yes. I am.”

Simon nodded.

For a moment he said nothing.

Then—

“Louise?”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to have a coffee with me?”

She looked at him.

“Coffee?”

“One evening after school. Or perhaps at the weekend.”

Simon was suddenly aware of how awkward he sounded.

“Somewhere other than here.”

Louise’s smile widened.

“I’d like that.”

Simon felt something inside him ease.

“Good.”

The Coffee Shop

A few weeks later, on a cold, wet Saturday morning in November, Simon and Louise met at a small local coffee shop.

Rain streaked the windows.

Inside, the café was warm and busy.

For the first time, neither of them was standing beside a grave.

There were no headstones.

No funeral flowers.

No cemetery paths.

Just two people sitting opposite one another with coffee between them.

Louise wrapped her hands around her cup.

“I’ve told you quite a lot about myself,” she said.

Simon smiled.

“So you have.”

“And yet I still know almost nothing about you.”

“That’s probably deliberate.”

Louise laughed.

“I suspected as much.”

She studied him.

“For months, you were just that solemn man at the cemetery.”

“Solemn?”

“Very.”

“I’m not sure whether I should be offended.”

“You shouldn’t.”

Louise smiled.

“I liked the mystery.”

Simon looked down at his coffee.

Then, after a moment, he began.

“I’m a solicitor.”

Louise raised an eyebrow.

“That explains the suits.”

Simon smiled.

“I’m a partner at Atkinson and Carmichael.”

He told her a little about the firm.

How long he had worked there.

How he had gradually risen through the practice.

He described some of his work and, carefully, a few of the more unusual cases he had handled over the years.

Louise listened with genuine interest.

The conversation became easier.

Eventually she asked about Lucy.

Simon became quieter.

He told Louise about their marriage.

About how he had married relatively late.

About the home they had made together.

About how they had hoped to have children.

Then he told her about Lucy herself.

“She was warmer than I am,” Simon said.

Louise smiled.

“I can believe that.”

Simon gave her a look.

“That wasn’t meant as an insult.”

“I know.”

He continued.

“Lucy could talk to anyone. She laughed easily. She made the house feel different when she was there.”

Simon paused.

“At work, I’ve always had a certain persona.”

“Professional?”

“Controlled.”

Louise nodded.

“I noticed.”

Simon smiled faintly.

“I wanted people to see me in a particular way. Dependable. Rational. Someone who always knew what to do.”

“And did you?”

“Most of the time.”

“And when Lucy died?”

Simon looked towards the rain running down the window.

“That stopped mattering.”

Louise waited.

“The office version of me is still there. Perhaps stronger than ever.”

He looked back at her.

“But the warmth Lucy brought into my life disappeared with her.”

Louise said nothing.

Then Simon added quietly—

“Until recently.”

Louise looked at him.

Simon held her gaze.

“There’s something different now.”

“With me?”

“Yes.”

The answer surprised her.

Louise looked down at her coffee and smiled.

“I wondered whether it was just me.”

Simon’s expression changed.

“What do you mean?”

“The first time we spoke properly, on the bench, I felt something too.”

Simon listened.

“You were still a mystery,” Louise continued. “You hardly said anything about yourself. But after that, I found myself looking forward to Wednesdays.”

“So did I.”

Louise smiled.

“I used to wonder whether you’d be there.”

“I usually was.”

“Usually?”

Louise laughed.

“Simon, I could have set my watch by you.”

He laughed.

It was an easy laugh.

Unforced.

Something Louise suspected very few people at Atkinson and Carmichael ever heard.

They ordered a second coffee.

The conversation continued.

Teaching.

Work.

Benjamin.

Lucy.

Ordinary things.

Unimportant things.

Things neither had spoken about for years.

At some point, neither noticed exactly when, their hands moved closer across the table.

Louise’s fingers rested near Simon’s.

Simon hesitated.

Then gently touched them.

Louise did not pull away.

Their fingers intertwined.

They looked at one another.

No cemetery.

No graves.

No dead husband or wife between them.

Only Simon.

And Louise.

Simon’s thumb moved gently across the back of her hand.

“Would you like,” he began, “to see what the future might bring us?”

Louise looked at him.

For so long, the future had been something she had avoided thinking about.

There had been Frederick.

Then Benjamin.

Then Benji.

Loss after loss had taught her how suddenly a future could disappear.

But sitting opposite Simon, something she had thought lost returned.

Possibility.

Her eyes brightened.

She squeezed his hand.

Then she nodded.

“Yes,” she said.

Outside, the November rain continued to fall.

Inside, Simon and Louise sat together, their hands still joined.

Neither of them knew where this would lead.

For once, they did not need to.

They had both spent too long living with what had ended.

Perhaps now they could begin to discover what might come next.