Becky: Part Twenty-Seven

~ beetleypete

This is the twenty-seventh part of a fiction serial, in 720 words.

For the next couple of years, life was pretty good. By a twist of fate, my old bank bought out the new one I was working for, so I amalgamated my pensions and carried on as manager of mortgages. I even did a local TV interview about the way our brand was appealing to the younger home buyers, and got myself on the front page of the company magazine as a result. All the extra money coming in meant more treats too, but I eased up on the spontaneity. We talked about moving to a bigger house, and went so far as to go and view some a bit further out. But we ended up agreeing we didn’t need anything bigger, and it would just be more to clean and maintain.

I still checked on Becky’s blog during that time, smiling when she raved about our Paris day trip, and how much she loved the bracelet I bought her. She even posted something about what a good idea it had been to change the car, and how much she preferred having four doors to two. The photo on that page was a selfie of her sitting in the driver’s seat. Although she mentioned me on almost every blog post, she never wrote about my job, or my promotion. Her dad seemed to be the only one interested, and when he talked to me about it, she usually tried to change the subject.

Then just before last Christmas, I was shocked to get a early morning phone call from my mum to tell me my dad had died. He wasn’t that old, and had never been ill. She just woke up and found him dead next to her. Becky was at work, so I sent her a text, and another to my work, then drove straight over to see my mum, hardly able to believe what was happening. She had called an ambulance, but they had pronounced him dead, then informed the police who had advised the local coroner. There was going to have to be a post-mortem, and by the time I arrived after struggling with the solid rush hour traffic, the undertaker appointed to remove him had already left with his body.

It was all rather surreal. Neither of us were crying. Mum kept making tea until I thought my bladder would burst, then she asked me to ring around a few friends and relatives. She had already called in to his job and told them. He had been due to retire in two years when he hit sixty, and mum sat and told me about the plans they had discussed about moving to the coast, and doing some travelling by buying a campervan. It sounded as if she was talking about some other people though, not about her and dad. She was detached, drinking cup after cup of tea, and leaving me to answer the calls from anyone who phoned.

Becky had rung me as soon as she finished her shift and saw the message. She was the only one crying. I told her to go home and get some sleep, as there was nothing she could do, so no point in coming over. Mum had told me not to bother to stop over, adamant she would be okay. So I stayed with her for the evening, refusing her offer of making me a huge dinner. We settled for toasted cheese sandwiches, eaten in silence. Both of us had talked enough for one day. Christmas was going to be grim.

Dad’s death was caused by a brain bleed, described as ‘catastrophic’. I took some time off to help mum sort out dad’s things and the funeral, which was a simple cremation held early in January. Freezing cold, and light snow on the ground, followed by light snacks and a few drinks in a reserved room in a Romford pub. Mum wanted to be on her own after, so Becky drove me back to Colindale, constantly asking if I was okay. I think my dad’s death had brought home the mortality of her parents, who were both a few years older than mine.

That was a shitty start to the year. A year that was only going to get worse.

But I didn’t know that at the time.

47 thoughts on “Becky: Part Twenty-Seven”

  3. (1) “I amalgamated my pensions.” A vocal advocate for fairness in pension plans (who did not live to collect his own pension) was famously known as Amalgam X.
    (2) Frankie got himself on the cover of the company magazine. Although it wasn’t the Rolling Stone, the photo did show him dressed as Sisyphus pushing a Ā£240,000 boulder weighing 2400 stones up a steep mortgage hill. A sign near the top read: “Refinance Now & Start Over!”
    (3) “The photo on that page was a selfie of her sitting in the driverā€™s seat.” Becky did thirty laps around the track, and then celebrated with a lap dance. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Vegas-style.
    (4) Frankie’s mom woke up and found her husband lying dead next to her. Her first words were, “I told you to stop already with those wildly erotic dreams!”
    (5) While some people prefer to live life in the fast lane, the vast majority of people find themselves in rush hour traffic.
    (6) “Mum kept making tea until I thought my bladder would burst.” The ambulance stuck around, just in case…
    (7) “She was detached, drinking cup after cup of tea.” Frankie’s mom is adept at telekinesis. At no time was the cup attached to her hand.
    (8a) “Christmas was going to be grim.” The death of Frankie’s father was the nightmare before Christmas.
    (8b) Oogie Boogie dances to boogie-woogie, and often shows up to entertain mourners at cremation events.
    (9) And speaking of cremation…
    Assistant: “I’m having trouble striking this match!”
    Cremation supervisor: “Here, try this!”
    Assistant: “No good! Your Bic is out of lighter fluid!”
    Jeanne d’Arc: “Excuse me! Might I suggest an old-fashioned torch?”

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                  1. Here they are again, I copied my original message….
                    Pierre Lagace is Canadian and an excellent researcher. He helped me greatly when I first started blogging and he continues today. I asked him in a comment where you should begin, because as you will see on his link that he has many, many different blogs. I havenā€™t heard back from him as yet, but explore at your leisure. Remember, you should give these people permission to go on your site.
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                    This one I only just discovered, but so far it is looking good for infoā€¦.
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                    Henry and his wife Maria both have an interest in history, they live in Denmark.

                    9 April 1940 – Vester Alles Kaserne

                    I can get more sites if you wish, I just donā€™t want to be pushy and keep bothering you with more and more links if you donā€™t want them.

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                    6. I’m fine. It’s just this time of year are my ‘yearly’ visits. A check-up – like looking under the hood of a car once in a while. šŸ˜“ boring actually.

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