Charleston Downs

No One Mourns The Wicked

I perched on the edge of the Rowley's clock fountain, tracing a figure of 8 through the water with my hand. I wondered if I'd be able to cry, if I would feel sad enough to cry. Surrounded by the manufactured beauty of the Rowley's mansion it was hard to feel sad. The smooth sandstone patio that covered the spacious entrance to the mansion converged around the fountain centrepiece, which itself complemented the white walls and delicate archways of the mansion behind.

"Do you spend all your free time skulking around my property now?" Allison Rowley appeared in the courtyard, having meandered out of the grand front door and down the large stone steps. She wore a luxurious red jump suit, with a chromed belt, and small black clutch, looking like money. She gazed down at me with a particular distaste.

"I'm here to see Molly. Have I done something to upset you Allison?" I sighed, making no effort to stand up from the fountain.

"It's Mrs Rowley to you, and I'll make no secret of the fact my initial fondness of you has dwindled Mr Suttcliffe." She hissed, "When you attract the interest of my children, you should be sure you are suitable for them. Let me tell you, Mr Sutcliffe, you are not suitable." She practically spat the last four words, loosing her cool demeanour. I looked up at her startled, and a little teary eyed.

"Ok, Allison." I stood up, looking down into her eyes. "Listen, I've just heard that my mother died and the only reason I'm hear is to cancel my plans with Molly and let her know why in person. Then I need to travel home and put my mother's body in the ground, so if you don't mind I don't really have time for your shit." She seemed to take a small gasp at my language, and walked away.

"My... condolences." She whispered, looking down. She hurriedly rushed to the car and sped away.

I explained everything to Molly, she'd wanted to come with me to the funeral but I wouldn't have it. Uncle Davey, who'd called me to break the news, would be the only person accompanying me. I picked him up on my way back to Worthing. I hadn't been back there in years.

Worthing, my seaside hometown, hadn't changed much during my time away. It was still overwhelmingly middle class, still very green; and currently in full summer bloom. We drove into the town along the seafront, with the long pier coming into view, moving closer and closer. It was the main landmark of the town, it's domed pavilions and spires rising up like Rorschach splotches, silhouetted in the sunlight.

Finally, we pulled up outside my childhood home. A thin, terraced house, now painted a clinical blue. Uncle Davey watched me closely as I turned off the engine. 
"How are you feeling, boy?" He asked gingerly, his soft, kind face wrinkled with worry.
"I don't feel anything." I lied, opening the door and exiting the car.

"Can you tell Richard they're here." Instructed a tall, dark man to some girl as he opened the door to us. "Hi, I'm Clarence. I knew you're mother quite well. My deepest condolences." I politely, tolerantly thanked him and walked into my nightmares.
"That's him. That's the son that never visited."
"As if! I didn't even know she had a son."
I heard the whispers fill the room as I walked in, I decided to keep going passing straight through towards the kitchen and then out into the garden. I could barely catch a breath as I slid the glass door shut behind me. This was a mistake, I shouldn't have come. I should have stayed away, like I already had done my whole life. Why was today any different? Now the bitch was dead, I had even less reason to visit. It's not like I could pick a fight with her now? As I looked around I realised my Wendy house was still there, now it was just a small shed devoid of childish decorations. Bitch. I walked over to inspect the remnants of my house.
"I didn't think you'd come Finnley." I heard the door slide shut, and a low voice behind me.
"You weren't alone." I said, continuing to inspect the Wendy house.
"I'm glad you did. Son." The low voice whispered, heavy with the weight of years of history.
"I go by Finn, now."
"Ok." He agreed, solemnly. There was a long pause, I looked away from the Wendy house gradually laying my eyes on the elderly man standing by the garden doors. He looked a lot frailer than he'd done in my memories, he was much thinner, his hair greyed, but his eyes were as unrepentant as ever.
"David didn't tell me how?" I asked, with a cocked head.
"Her heart." He replied softly.
"So she did have one." I snarked, with thinly veiled glee.
"Finnley! I only want you here if you promise not to make a scene." His voice grew back into the stern monster of the past, back to the days when I was young and vulnerable. His frail body was only for show, he was still in there. "You know how much you're choices hurt your mother, the least you can do is show your respect." He spat, incensed.
"I'll play nice." I grunted through bile.

The funeral itself was simple. I didn't speak. My dad gave a nice eulogy and read her favourite poem, which turned out to be 'Footprints in the sand'. I'd always thought it would be something by Robert Frost. Then, rather unsettlingly, Clarence spoke. He spoke for a long time, practically reading out a full eulogy of his own. After that there were some prayers and then they put her in the ground. Dad threw the first dirt. After which there was an uncomfortable pause, and then Clarence threw the second. He watched me the whole time.

After the service I didn't want to talk to anyone, Uncle Davey had disappeared somewhere, so I was forced to walk in silence alone. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Clarence.

"Finnley, I'm so glad I managed to catch you alone. I've been meaning to speak with you." He didn't take his hand of my shoulder as he walked with me.

"Oh, great." I mumbled dryly.

"I hope you didn't mind that Richard asked me to speak, it's just I knew Sam so well..." His voice trailed off as my mouth began to curl up. "Frankly, I didn't even know you existed till the other day."

"Sounds like you really knew her well." I retorted, mimicking his overly perky tone.

He seemed offended by my unwillingness to like him. "It's not like you ever visited. You know, I did know Sam really well. She said I was like the son she never had." As he said that, he grinned like a shark. His hand was still resting over-familiarly on my shoulder. I brushed it off.

"I'm sorry. Who do you think are?" I hissed.

"I'm glad I was there for her, because she deserved better than a neglectful son like you." This fuck. I exhaled in disbelief. Who was he? This entitled fuck, who somehow thought he was part of this.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? You didn't know her! You weren't her son! Get the fuck out of my face! Fuck off! Fuck you! I'm glad that bitch is dead!" My voice rising to decibels that would draw attention. Richard was on me like a flash.

"I told you not to make a scene, get out of here I don't want to see you again!"

***

If you enjoyed this chapter please don't forget to vote to show your support, and comment so I know you've been here! I love to hear your thoughts! :-)