Lifesaving for Beginners

my fist. I keep expecting Thomas to say something. Something terrible. About marriage, maybe. Or wanting to have a baby. We used to talk about all sorts. Politics and books and plays and music and, of course, other people. I adore talking about other people. Then along comes the bloody miracle and all of a sudden I’m holding my breath, waiting for him to say the terrible thing, and my eyes are open but they haven’t adjusted to the dark and it’s like I’m in a cave. Or a tomb, and the dark is pinning me down, like hands.
    But he doesn’t say anything. I hear him turn onto his side.
    I turn onto my side.
    I close my eyes.
    Eventually, I fall asleep.

13 July 2011; Brighton
    We have to go to mass. Again. This one is called a Month’s Mind or a Month’s Mine. Something like that and you have to have it one month after somebody dies. I don’t know why. This one is actually six weeks after because Faith didn’t book it in time. The church is freezing and has a gigantic statue of Jesus on the cross with blood coming out of his hands and his feet, because of the nails.
    I tell Damo about the statue and he wants to come to the church to see it but Faith says, ‘No way.’ She says, ‘I’ve enough to be doing without making sure that fella doesn’t drink the altar wine.’
    Dad and Celia come all the way down from Scotland. That’s what Celia says when Faith shouts at her later. ‘We came all the way down from Scotland. And this is the thanks we get.’
    This time, there’s no coffin at the top of the church with a photograph of Mam on it, which I think is a bit better. I had to walk past it when I went up to get the Holy Communion and I was in a big long queue so it took ages. Some people touched it with their hands and some people blessed themselves when they walked past it but I didn’t do anything. I just walked past and I didn’t even look at it. I don’t know why.
    Ant and Adrian are wearing the same suits they wore the last time. Dad keeps calling Ant, Adrian and Adrian, Ant. Adrian says, ‘Wrong again,’ and Dad says, ‘Story of my life.’
    In the graveyard, you can hear the horns beeping and cars and buses whizzing past. That seems weird. Everything is just going on as usual. The priest is saying the rosary, which is like the Hail Mary about a hundred times, over and over and over. It’s really boring. Faith’s hands have gone blue because it’s so cold, even though it’s summertime. It’s wet too. And windy. Mam would call that a fret of a day.
    Back at the house, Celia asks where the bathroom is and I show her, and then she says, ‘Is there any toilet paper?’ and I go and get some from the cupboard under the stairs and then she says, ‘I wonder would there be a clean towel anywhere?’ and I go to the linen cupboard and get a beach towel because it’s the only towel I can reach. Instead of saying, ‘Thank you,’ she says, ‘Are you all right, Milo?’ like there’s something wrong with me, only there’s nothing wrong with me except that I’m a bit wet and a bit cold from standing in the graveyard. I’m hungry too. Faith says I’m always hungry, which is not one hundred per cent true. It might be about ninety-two per cent true.
    If Mam were here, she’d say, ‘Get out of that gear before you catch your death.’ In the kitchen, everybody is sitting round the table drinking mugs of tea and eating the sandwiches and buns that Jack dropped off before we went to the church. Jack is running the Funky Banana now and he’s nearly as good as Mam at baking and cooking and coming up with new recipes with bananas in them. I take the banana and strawberry smoothie that Jack made me out of the fridge. My hands are too cold to hold the cup so I just put it on the counter and drink it through a straw.
    Celia comes into the kitchen and Dad says, ‘Ah, there she is,’ like everyone was going mad wondering where she’d got to. Dad stands up and puts his arm round Celia. When they stand beside each other like that, they look like a father and daughter instead of a . . . I don’t know . . . boyfriend and girlfriend, I suppose.
    Dad always coughs like he’s got something caught in his throat before he starts talking. ‘I – that is we’ he smiles at Celia, ‘– we have a little announcement to make.’
    Ant says, ‘Be careful, Dad. Last time you made an announcement in this kitchen, Mam clattered you over the head with a frying pan.’ I don’t think that’s true because Faith,