Six Australian Heroes. Margaret Way

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СКАЧАТЬ it’s worth, I think Laura loves you too.’

      A wild joy flooded Ryan’s heart. ‘What makes you think so?’

      ‘I’ve thought so from the day after she went to bed with you. Laura only has sex with men she loves. She’s that kind of girl.’

      Ryan smiled. That was one of the reasons he loved her.

      ‘Have to go, Alison.’

      ‘Hurry, Ryan. Laura needs you.’

      Yes, he agreed silently as he grabbed his suit jacket and headed for the door. Just as much as he needed her. They needed each other, two lonely, seriously screwed-up people whom life had hurt but whom life hadn’t totally beaten yet.

      Laura sat in the front pew of the chapel, trying not to look at her gran’s coffin, or the masses of yellow roses which covered the lid. Every time she looked at the yellow roses she wanted to cry. They had been Jane’s favourite flower. When Laura had left school and started living in her parents’ house at North Manly, her gran had bought her several yellow rose-bushes to plant in her garden to remind Laura of her.

      As if I would ever need reminding, Laura thought as tears threatened once more.

      Panic joined her tears, for it was her turn to speak. Uncle Bill and Aunt Cynthia had asked her to give the main eulogy, claiming they were both poor public speakers whereas she was used to it. She’d shied away from doing it at first before accepting that it was the last way she would be able to express her gratitude to Jane for all she’d done for her. She’d written down what she wanted to say, lest she forget it. Now she stared down at the piece of paper on which she’d written the inadequate words, seeing that it was nothing more than a twisted crunched-up mess in her lap. It was impossible to straighten it out.

      When Aunt Cynthia nudged her in the ribs, she rose and stumbled up to the podium. Somehow she managed to relate the story of Jane’s early life from memory, dry facts really, about where her grandmother was born and where she went to school. She spoke of Jane’s love of country life and of gardening.

      She then mentioned her marriage, complimenting her on being a loving and loyal wife, and a devoted mother.

      But the moment she came to where she wanted to say how wonderful a grandmother she had been, her mouth went bone dry and a huge lump filled her throat. She looked down and tried to straighten out the crumpled sheet of paper but it was all a blur. Dying of embarrassment, she was staring down the only aisle of the small church when suddenly, through the blur, striding towards her with forceful steps, was the last man on earth she expected to see at that moment. My God, she thought wildly as her heart whirled and her heart lurched. What on earth was Ryan doing here?

      He didn’t hesitate, crossing the strip of carpet that still separated them, stepping up to stand close to her and slide a strongly supportive arm around her waist.

      ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said gently as he pulled her against him. ‘Got a bit lost without Jane’s splendid directions.’

      Laura blinked up at him, having been rendered even more speechless than before.

      ‘I take it you’re having a spot of trouble,’ he whispered, having glanced down at the still-crinkled paper. ‘As you can see, folks,’ he continued in full voice, ‘Laura is slightly overcome with the situation. Which is understandable, given how much she loved her gran. So I’m going to finish speaking for her. For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Ryan Armstrong and I’m Laura’s boyfriend.’

      Ryan hoped like hell that she hadn’t said anything to her family about their having broken up. He suspected that she might not have done so just yet. She was proud, his Laura. He felt reassured by Cynthia’s eyes, which weren’t looking at him with shock, or even surprise—reassured also by Laura’s acquiescence to his arm around her.

      ‘Now, I didn’t know Jane all that well,’ he went on. ‘We only met once, over one short weekend. But that was long enough for me to see she was one of those grandmothers that make the world a better place to live in, especially for their grandchildren. I know something about grandmothers like that. I had one myself. I know how Laura feels, and on her behalf I’d like to thank Jane, as well as all the other amazing grandmothers in this world, for their sweetly giving natures, their unconditional love and their wonderful wisdom.

      ‘I’m sure if Jane could speak to us today, she would tell us all gathered here in her memory not to be sad. She would want us to celebrate her life, not mourn her death. I know she was extremely proud of Laura, and all her family. Bill, Cynthia, Shane and Lisa: she loved you all dearly.

      ‘She was also proud of where she lived. She recently showed me the Hunter Valley Gardens, along with this very beautiful little church, saying this was where she wanted her funeral service to be held. Both Laura and I hoped that such an event would be many years in the future. But it was not to be. Let me just say that it was a privilege to know Jane. Goodbye, darling Gran. Rest in Peace.’

      Ryan’s arm tightened around Laura as he led her back to her seat, sobbing now, taking a guess that she’d been sitting next to her aunt and uncle in the front pew.

      ‘Well said, Ryan,’ Bill complimented, his own eyes shimmering with tears. Cynthia was incapable of saying anything, a handkerchief held up to her face as she wept quietly into it.

      Ryan found himself quite choked up too, feeling genuine grief—and some more remorse too, for not flying back to Australia and speaking at his own grandmother’s funeral. If only one could go back in time …

      But he could still remember how alone he’d felt at the time, thinking that the one and only person in his life that he could count on was gone. Laura was probably feeling the same.

      He had to make her see, however, that she could count on him, that he wasn’t the feckless fool she imagined him to be. She was still weeping quietly when they left the church. Ryan was thankful that they weren’t going on to some wretchedly dreary graveyard, Bill quickly explaining to him outside the church that his mother had requested that she be cremated privately and her ashes sprinkled on her beloved rose garden. It seemed a much better ending, in Ryan’s opinion, than being buried. But each to his own.

      ‘Where’s the wake being held?’ he asked Bill.

      ‘Back at the house. I presume Laura will be going back in your car, Ryan?’

      ‘Yes, of course.’

      ‘See you back there shortly, then.’

      When Ryan steered Laura over to where he’d parked his car, she didn’t argue with him, a testimony to her distressed state. But shortly after they joined the long lines of cars heading back to the house she pulled herself together and glanced over at him with a deep frown crinkling her forehead.

      ‘I still don’t understand how you knew about Gran’s funeral,’ she said. ‘Or even why you came.’

      Ryan supposed he could make up a plausible lie—that he’d seen a funeral notice in the paper. But he didn’t want to do that. He wanted to be totally honest with Laura from now on. It was the only way she would be able to trust him.

      ‘Greg Harvey told me about your gran’s death this morning when he rang to offer me a new lawyer. I tried to ring you straight away but your phone’s turned off. So I rang Alison and she told me when and where the funeral was.’

      ‘Alison? СКАЧАТЬ