After You

Chapter Twenty-seven - This Woman's Work

"You're strong enough to deal with this, Merry. You don't need him to make it better. You don't need anyone.
You can get through this on your own."
- Rhys

I was working a Saturday wedding; a huge affair, with almost two hundred guests. No expense was spared, which meant the bride expected nothing less than perfection. I was already feeling stressed out, because Ellie - not that it was her fault - had called in sick, and then to make matters worse, the hotel's walk-in fridge had broken down the night before. The kitchen was in disarray; the head chef ringing me non-stop to ask about canapes, or check what filling had been used in the iced wedding cake, because he didn't have a fridge big enough to keep it chilled.

I'd spent all morning running between the kitchens, the bridal party and the function room, desperately trying to keep everything in check, when my phone blared loudly for the umpteenth time. I sighed, expecting to find Paul - the head chef - telling me that the wedding cake was melting in the ambient store room, but when I looked at my phone, the caller I.D. said, "Hannah Townsend".

'Hello?' I said, frowning with dawning apprehension, because whilst your sister and I had always got on, you know we'd never been best friends, and now that you were dead, we had no real reason to speak to one another at all.

'Merry,' she said, with a brisk tone of voice. 'Is it true?'

'What?'

'Is it true?' she demanded. My stomach hit the floor. She knows, I said to myself, as panic clawed its way up my throat.

'Is what true?' I asked, determining that it was best to plead ignorance.

'That you're seeing someone? I ran into that friend of yours - Nicole - and she mentioned that you've got a new boyfriend.' I wasn't sure what to say, but I didn't need to answer, because my silence spoke volumes. 'My brother's barely cold in his grave and you're shagging someone else? You've really moved on that quickly?' Hannah spat.

'Of course not!' I cried; feeling my cheeks flush. I glanced about me. The corridor was really not the best place to have this conversation. I ducked into a service stairwell and tried to explain. 'I am seeing someone, but that doesn't mean I don't love Rhys; that I don't miss him and wish that he was still here.'

'How long?' came her short, sharp interrogation.

'Excuse me?'

'How long have you been f*cking someone else?' I let the language slide because she was your sister and she was upset.

'A few months.'

'My brother's only be dead a few months, so you'd better tell me how many months, Merry,' came her threatening reply.

'Four months,' I told her, in a small, contrite voice.

'You got bored of playing the heartbroken widow pretty quickly, didn't you!' she snorted, derisively.

'It wasn't like that. I didn't intend to meet someone but it just happened and -'

'And you fell onto his dick, right? You didn't mean to have sex with him, but you fell on top of him, and then you've kept falling on top of him for four months?'

'Hannah...' I sighed, totally at a loss for how to smooth things over.

'No!' she barked. 'Don't. There's nothing you can say, Merry. Rhys died, and everyone felt sorry for you. Everyone bent over backwards to make sure that you were okay. But you weren't the only person hurting, Merry. I was hurting. Mum and Dad were hurting. We still are, but you've moved on like my brother meant nothing to you, after everything he did for you; after everything we've done to try and support you.'