Hello Little Girl

Chapter 23

They buried him in Newcastle, where he had been born.

The service was long and droning and incredibly boring. Or at least, that’s what Wendy was told. She didn’t go. Mary gave her the choice: to stay home and take care of her brother or attend the service with her Mother. She refused, because that man had been dead to her for four years. Wendy thought it was ridiculous of her mother to go, but when she looked into the older woman’s eyes she could plainly see Mary still loved him. Attending his funeral was just something she had to do.

Mary went alone, and stood by her husband’s grave like he had never left. No one spoke to her, and she didn’t speak to them. Cathy threw her enough bitter glares during the service to last her a lifetime, but angry in-laws was nothing akin to the pain she felt at watching her husband being lowered into the ground.

It was an accident. He’d been working on the docks at WhitleyBay, hit his head and fell into the water. They retried to revive him, but it was too late; there wasn’t any point. Mary was forced to ask the funeral director how he had died.

When the service was over, and everyone else had left, Mary lingered at the grave. His face, on the day of their wedding, bloomed up out of her memories. He had been so handsome…

She cried then, quietly and privately mourning over the husband that had never really been hers.

Wendy stared at the empty streets, sitting with her legs crossed on the front steps of her house. It had been raining for two days, and as she watched water drizzle from a window sill across the street, Wendy thought it looked like it would never stop.

Her mother asked her earlier to come in and talk to everyone because it would make her feel better, but she didn’t. She had little interest in sob fest. Besides, she was waiting for John.

Some of the women Mary worked with at the hospital decided to plan a dinner for her a couple days after she got home from Robert’s funeral. What was supposed to be a quiet, respectful affair ended up attracting most of the hospital employees and half of the neighborhood; including Diana, her mother, and even Paul.

When she had told John that her Father had died and asked him to come for dinner he had been vague in his agreement. Nobody liked dealing with death, but ever since John’s uncle George had died, it became something he avoided at all cost. So instead of doing what he promised, John turned his back on her completely and spent the day at this mother’s, where Wendy all but completely slipped his mind.

Evening washed over the streets of Liverpool on that dreary day almost discreetly. The rain still had not stopped as guests began to don their coats and leave. As they strode for their homes, they offered sad glances to the girl still perched on the front steps, but nothing more. Wendy didn’t know many of them anyway; they were just faces to her. Paul—in leaving—stepped casually around her, hesitating in the door like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure. Wendy kept staring at the raining running along the streets and pretended he wasn’t there. Eventually, he moved around her and hurried home, ducking his head in shame so she wouldn’t see his face.

Wendy didn’t know when she started to cry, but once it came there was no stopping it. She had to laugh at herself for being so ridiculous. Only a fool would expect such as boy as John Lennon to attend a memorial dinner. It was too sad; too real for boys like him. She had just hoped that this time he wouldn’t disappoint her again. She imagined he would show up and grasp her hand in support as teary-eyed strangers pitied her, and then later they would be alone and laugh together about how stupid adults were. They would hate on cowardly fathers and not feel sorry for each other like everybody else took to doing. Wendy had thought they understood each other, but now that he didn’t come, she felt lost. Perhaps John wasn’t what she thought he was.

“Hey”

Wendy turned her head slightly to see who was standing behind her and wiped her eyes. In a black coat with shiny black shoes, Diana looked grimly down at her. Wendy turned back, not responding. The younger girl took that as an invitation to sit, even though Wendy hadn’t intended for it to be.

“Look.” Diana sighed and wrapped her coat tighter around herself. “I’m sorry Wendy. There wasn’t any reason for me to so harsh to you.”

A breeze lifted loose strands of hair off the back of Wendy’s neck. She couldn’t remember the last time she had bathed.

“I mean, only an arse would do what you did, what with ditching me and taking Paul out, but I was horrible to you, and I’m sorry.” Diana said. “And my Mother can stuff it. I don’t think she gets to choose my friends.” She looked at the older girl. “What about it?”

Wendy opened her mouth to respond, but was suddenly afraid of being violently sick. Her throat tightened and wouldn’t be cleared, her cheeks grew hot, and her nose started to run a little. The dam had broken, and Wendy buried her face in her arms to muffle her crying. “He was supposed to come.” She whimpered. Diana wrapped her arms around the older girl’s shaking body and pressed her cheek to the top of her head. “Who?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“He said he would come why wouldn’t he come?” Wendy cried.

Diana’s murmured words of comfort were lost to her, but Wendy let the younger girl hold her as she sobbed, and strangers continued to leave the Oliver house. Neither of them knew how long they stayed out there, but nobody came to get them, and both preferred it that way.