The Yorkshire Pudding Club by Milly Johnson

Author:Milly Johnson
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781847394835
Publisher: Simon and Schuster

Chapter 27

It had been the police who came to inform her that they had found her father dead at home; he had lain there for four days. The pub landlady at the Miner’s Rest had rung them to find out why he had not turned up as usual, knowing that the February snow would never have been enough to keep Grahame Collier away from his tipple and the camaraderie, and they had broken the door down and found him upstairs in the bathroom. The cause of death was a heart-attack apparently, but cirrhosis of the liver was also written on the death certificate. He must have been in considerable pain, a fact that neither upset nor pleased Elizabeth. She had thought she might feel relief if she should ever see this day, but there was only numbness and disbelief, and she rang John for help when the police had gone, even though she couldn’t remember doing it.

It had been he who had arranged the undertaker and the vicar. Later, he would talk to the solicitor and sort out the clearance of the house and the sale of it for Elizabeth too. And when the undertaker needed a suit in which to dress the late Mr Collier, John said he would get one from the house for him, but then Elizabeth announced he had done enough for her and she would go for it. She was adamant, but there was no way he would let her go alone and so they went together. She didn’t know why she felt the compulsion to confront her fears after all those years, but the feeling was so strong that she knew she had to go with it. After all, it was just a house, an empty house, bricks and mortar, there was nothing there to frighten her, but she was shaking when her foot landed over the threshold and straight into the front room, in the absence of a hallway in those houses.

It was so much smaller than she remembered, but other than that, it was almost exactly as it had been on the day she had run from it, down the road to her Auntie Elsie’s in her stockinged feet. It even smelled the same–a mix of cigarettes and dank air–a smell that made his presence feel very strong in the room. There was a thick layer of grime on the windows and the skirting boards were furry with dust; the nicotine had stained the wallpaper over the years and stencilled lighter squares where pictures had once been hung, then removed. The nets at the window were filthy and torn, and the tops of the big heavy brown velour curtains were grey with cobwebs. A print of an Indian woman with her hair over one shoulder was aslant, and Elizabeth remembered that it had always been that way. It added to the feel that time had not moved on and nothing had changed. Except it had–because she was a grown woman and no longer a scared and confused little girl.

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