Page 24 of Life After Me

He was right. Within an hour people had started turning up carrying all manner of trowels, forks and other gardening implements I didn’t even recognise.

The car park quickly filled with volunteers who happily double-parked and blocked each other in, and still more people streamed through the gates.

Tables were carried out of the school, and steaming urns and huge boxes of cakes and biscuits appeared.

Someone somewhere must have found more power outlets, because music started blaring out across the field.

Other teachers and parents I knew from fundraising events, meetings, and school shows Jenn had brought me along to gathered around Stuart and Lottie.

A few minutes later everyone was spreading out and starting to dig and twist holes out of the solid ground to make new homes for the thousands of daffodil bulbs.

I looked at the hundreds of people who had dragged themselves out of their nice warm beds and were giving up part of their weekend.

They were braving the freezing weather just to do something nice for my Jenn.

Then I was reminded again that she wasn’t just my Jenn.

She belonged to them too. Here were her colleagues, students and the parents she came into contact with every day, and each one of them had a different story and experience of Jenn to share.

Each one of them had cared about her enough to be here this morning.

Suddenly the cold seemed to lose some of its bite.

I flipped the small shovel in my hand, grabbed a bulb from one of the buckets, and joined Jenn’s friends digging into the hard ground to make way for the sunny memorial we were all working to create.

Thirty-something bulbs later, a steaming cup of coffee was shoved in front of me.

‘Thought it was about time you had a break.’ Lottie’s nose had turned pink from the cold.

‘Thanks.’ I cradled the coffee between dirty gloves, enjoying the painful heat it brought. My back creaked as I stretched. ‘This is incredible. I can’t believe how many people turned up.’

Lottie nodded. ‘It’s pretty cool. But so was Mum.’ She gave me a bright smile. ‘There’s more people here than you think.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The guy in the posh coat by the tea table? He’s a journalist. Matty called a couple of Lucy’s media contacts to tell them about what we’re doing. I guess they wanted to do something even if they couldn’t be here. He wants to talk to you, Dad.’

‘Why me?’ Panic flooded through me. ‘Why not you or Stuart? You two organised this.’

‘He’s already talked to us both. And a lot of other people. This is more your story to tell than ours. There was supposed to be a photographer too, but apparently he’s snowed in somewhere. But I’ve been taking plenty of photos, so maybe they’ll use them. He’s waiting for you.’

‘All right.’ I nodded slowly. ‘I’ll talk to him.’

‘Great. Thanks Dad!’ Lottie planted a quick kiss on my cheek and raced over to the man, grabbing her camera off the table on the way.

The man followed her back, and held his hand out in greeting. I stripped off a dirty glove to shake his hand while shooting a questioning glance to Lottie. She gave me the tiniest of nods, trying to reassure me.

‘Morning. I’m Gareth Brady. Impressive... event you’ve got organised here. Sorry for your loss, by the way.’

‘Thanks.’ I silently wondered when strangers were going to stop apologising for the death of someone they’d never met. ‘It is pretty amazing how many people have turned up.’

‘Especially on such a cold and miserable day.’ He held up a tiny recorder. ‘This OK?’

‘Sure.’ I nodded. ‘So which paper do you work for?’

‘None at the moment. Used to work for one of the dailies, but now I’m freelance. Have had things in The Times , Telegraph , Star , Observe r, Herald and Gazette . And I do a fair bit on social media too. There’s others, but they’re the main ones. Oh, and the Post .’

‘Quite an impressive list. Do you really think this,’ I gestured to the now muddy field, ‘is interesting? Do you really think you’ll get a story out of a school field being planted?’

‘I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. Listen, David... Can I call you David? I’ll level with you. Your wife’s death was tragic and awful, and the way it happened was shocking. All that makes for a potentially good story. I’m sorry, but that’s just the truth of things.’

‘Oh.’ I felt sick to my stomach thinking of Jenn’s death described in those terms.

‘But what really makes this interesting, and something that people will want to read and watch videos about, is how you’ve reacted. Your son told me about how you collected all these plants from the council.’

I nodded. ‘They were digging them up for a new housing estate. They were going to throw them away.’

‘But you saved them because your wife liked them. And now hundreds of people have turned out to help you replant them. That’s interesting. People like things like this. I’ve already got bites from two editors, and that’s just from a couple of quick pitch phone calls.’

‘It’s human interest, Dad.’ Lottie squeezed my hand. ‘People like to be reminded that there’s good in the world, and that people still care about each other enough to come together in difficult times.’

‘Exactly right.’ Gareth nodded. ‘Tragedy and then hope. People like it, which means they buy it. So, shall we start with you telling me about what the daffodils meant to you and your wife?’

* * *

The story came out a week later. It was in two of the papers, maybe three.

I can’t remember. It was nice though. They used Lottie’s photos.

She was so excited and I wanted to be excited for her too.

I wanted to share her joy and energy, but I just couldn’t.

I’m so tired that I don’t really care about anything.

I should care about that. I should have been worried that I wasn’t being a good dad, but I just didn’t have the energy.

And worse, Jenn has disappeared. I didn’t know where she had gone, or why, but I couldn’t feel her anymore.

I couldn’t feel anything. It was like someone shoved a hoover into me and sucked out everything.

There’s nothing left. Just tiredness. I feel like my head has been stuffed with cotton wool.

Not like me at all anymore. I know the doctor said they would take time to work, but I feel like I’m getting worse, and I’m starting to worry the antidepressants weren’t the right call.

* * *

I saw Lottie briefly today. She has gone back to spending a lot more time at her own place, but still drops round every couple of days. Keeping an eye on me and making sure I behave. I don’t know if she’s relieved or not that I’ve started taking the antidepressants.

It was her and Matty who finally sent me to the doctors to get some help, but she knew I’d resisted starting them too.

I think the idea that I felt it had got so bad that I’d finally started taking them worried her.

I tried to reassure her by telling her that Jenn supported it.

.. that it was her who had convinced me to try them but I’m not sure that didn’t upset Lottie more.

She didn’t say anything, but I could see it in her eyes. I tried telling her not to worry, but I was pretty sure she would be calling her brother, and quite possibly her aunt, the second she was out of the garden gate.

I don’t like to worry the children, but what else am I supposed to do?

* * *

Spring

Jenn

It’s good to see David smiling again, but I feel bad that his happiness is causing the children so much concern. Lottie’s really worried about her dad, and I’m worried about her. She’s wearing herself out trying to live between two homes, and keep her own life going while looking after her dad.

Matty seems to be handling it a bit better, but I think it’s easier for him because he doesn’t see it up close every day.

Plus he’s distracted trying to work out what to do about Lucy, because the job offer that had been floating around has settled — and it needs a response.

Sooner rather than later. I’ve been keeping an eye on Matty, but I don’t want to guide him in the wrong direction.

He needs to make his own decisions. I just hope he hurries up and makes the right one before his lack of action forces Lucy out.

But I don’t think it’s likely to happen.

He’s never been great at making decisions about his life, which is odd given he makes such big ones at work all the time.

I’ll just have to keep a close eye on him.

I need to keep a closer watch on all of them.

It’s good timing really. There’s not much I can do for David right now.

It’s horrible to be leaving him again, but he knows I’ve not left their world, and that I’ll be back by his side as soon as I can.

Until the drugs rebalance his system, it’s really hard to appear as anything more than a blur to him.

I’m glad I worked out how to make myself visible to him in reflections, but I’m getting fed up of shimmering in and out of mirrors.

Even just letting him know I’m nearby takes an incredible amount of effort to fight through the dark clouds and leaves me drained and exhausted.

But David's taking the medication now, and he’s filled with hope that they’ll work their way into his system and start helping soon.

Besides, Lottie could really use a bit of extra support now, even if it is from a ghost she’s not sure she fully believes in.

She’s still carrying so much anger and fear with her, which is bubbling below the surface.

If she doesn’t stop burying her feelings, and face up to them, I’m worried they’re going to pull her apart.

I hate seeing her like this. It’s like she’s thirteen again, only this time I can’t make her hot chocolate and wrap my arms around her until it’s all better.

I think I need to try and reach her more, and let her know she’s not alone.

Maybe it’ll help her to know I’m still here.

She already wants to believe that her dad’s right, but she’s scared and upset.

She lost me and her dad fell apart in front of her eyes, so she did what any little sister would do. She went to her big brother for help.

Unfortunately Matty lives in a world full of science, reason and evidence, and nothing about this grey, ghostly world is reasonable or proven.

Matty responded the only way he knew how and turned to science for help.

But logic can’t explain this, and it’s not even close to explaining me.

So I’ll have to find a more creative way of making sure Lottie knows I’m here.