'No. That was cavalier action by the man. The woman simply followed him.'
'His death was unnecessary.'
'It was inevitable. My friend tells me he had the death wish. If he hadn't died now, then he would have got himself killed somewhere else. He was of that type. An early and violent death, I am informed, was always his destiny.'
Ch. 83
She found the four gravestones on the side of the hill, exactly where the gatekeeper had told her they would be. They looked different in the daylight, more real than when Adam had brought her here in the darkness.
You could tell one of the graves was fresh.
She carried four small posies, a mixture of simple flowers, forget-me-nots and daffodils. She knelt down and placed one each where his parents lay. Then she crossed to the third grave and stood for a while before it.
'Marcus James Nicholson. Aged Nine. Beloved son of Henry and Margaret and beloved brother of Adam. 'Underneath, much smaller in its print was the inscription 'The Gods Love Those Who Die Young'
'Hello, Marcus,' she said, the sob already in her throat. 'I…look after him. Please. He always needed you. Tell him he's not all bad.' After some time, she knelt once again and put the third posy on his grave.
Then she turned to the fourth.
It was why she had come, yet it took a long time before she had the courage to take the few steps that led her to him.
'Adam Jeremy Nicholson. Aged 32. Beloved son of Henry and Margaret and beloved brother of Marcus.' There was no further inscription underneath. It was as she and Lily thought he would want it.
She knelt down and placed the last posy on his grave. She stayed kneeling, looking hard at the headstone, still not believing he was really dead, trying to force some spirit to speak to her.
Nothing. Just her loneliness and her want.
'Lily's okay.' she said. 'I tried to get her to come back to California, but she said no. I'll keep in touch with her, make sure she's not too alone.'
But who'll do that for me? Now that you've gone.
'I've paid for her house and anything else she needs. Out of the money.' She felt the tears dampen her cheeks. He'd left the will on his dressing table in the flat, addressed to his solicitor, when they'd shared that first night of love together.
'Don't laugh at me,' she cried. 'I can't help missing you. I'd rather have you than the money.'
Another mourner from the next row of graves left his wife and came over to her as she sobbed.
'You all right, miss?' asked the concerned visitor.
She nodded, tried to stop her tears. But she couldn't.
'We lost our boy,' the man went on. 'Only sixteen. You're not alone, you know. It happens to everyone. We all have our own grief.'
She stood up, he held out a supporting hand for her as she stumbled.
She looked up at him; he had a kind face.
'And always will, I suppose,' he said wistfully. 'Well, I better get back to my missus,' he said wistfully.
'Thank you.' she said.
She knew then she that would always love Adam. He would always be inside her. Such a short time together, such a long time to go.
'Bye, tough guy.'
She knew she'd be back.
She turned and walked slowly down the hill.