marble. It's suddenly clear to me just how much I miss her; how much I still miss my friend and that it seems okay for me to do that now. I was lucky to have known her. When we met she didn’t teach me how to feel again but she was the one who made me want to. My chest hurts a little bit. The hit of truth is a terrible kind of bliss and I know that no matter what strange dimension she's in now, she’ll still be ripping hearts open with her soft, sweet eyes.
I walk off into the autumn afternoon and into the city. It seems this day has been designed for my silent thoughts and I decide to go to the grave of Diane Green. I figure that it’s the right thing to do even though I hardly knew her. The strange thing is that there aren’t many people I can think of who were more alive to me.
Even before we met I knew all about her. Becky had talked about her cousin all the time with a mixture of worry and admiration. And just from those descriptions I could tell there were times when the girl could be a right pain in the arse. She was obviously an angry kind of mess and terribly damaged despite the briefness of her life.
Still, maybe that doesn’t matter and it really shouldn’t be what defines her. In the end, she was just a good kid who was gone too soon. I remember how Becky always went to great lengths to list Diane’s best qualities, as a kind of defence of her honour. Even then, she hadn’t needed to bother. As far as I was concerned, if Becky loved her then so did I. That's still true and that’s why I’m heading to her final resting place today.
I’m not alone in visiting Diane’s grave. Joe Holly is here with Colin Abbott and a lovely woman, whose red hair shines gold in what sunlight still remains. We talk only briefly and then I fold myself away into the background. I watch Joe’s face and still see the feeling and loss I’ve known myself. Then I see him walk away, not because he really wants to but because he has to so he can carry on. I know he’ll be back and that he’ll survive because, like him, I’ve also known what needed to be done.
I almost fail to notice the gleaming of twilight is nearly upon me when I leave. The sky turns from amber to gold and then to darkness as I walk away from the graveyard and then through the city. That’s when the moon comes out to light my way. The temperature drops even though the air isn’t still. The calm is broken by an icy breeze from the north that brings rhythm to the rustle of the leaves on the trees.
I look up and in the lamplight the autumn leaves are perfectly lit to show the death agonies of all those still refusing to fall. I feel the breeze and the lateness of the hour in cold crystal pricking upon my skin. And while walking beside the Thames, I see it glittering as liquid fairylights dancing in the dark.
I don’t stop. I keep moving. Passing open doorways with the familiar aroma of stale sweat and spilt beer, and a church spire that reaches up through the clouds towards the shining moon. It helps me understand the majesty of a world so often littered with ugliness. Wrongheaded right angles of metal and stone, empty beer cans on uneven concrete and the stench of stale weed in the night. And yet, somehow, it also manages to bathe those same streets, that same ugliness, in the silver and gold of streetlights.
Every step makes me feel more tired, even though my heart’s no longer filled with hurt or even emptiness. For me, there will be no more staring into the future with eyes too in love with the past. The love I have changes all that and like so many other people, I still wonder how I ever got by without it. Somehow she brings calm to me even when she has none for herself. With her comes the knowledge that there’s less need to burn so intensely when you have love to keep you warm.
She’s like a broken angel to me, only more real and somehow just right. That’s the truth she might never know although I will never stop telling her. Becky isn’t the same as when we met. She’s no longer a fantasy I can keep at a distance. It wasn’t right but in a lot of ways it was that distance and the time that passed, which let her become her real self. It also led me to where I had to be to come back to her and allow her fully into my life.
What hasn't changed is her ability to amaze me and the way she makes me laugh even though I can't really explain how or why. It's just her I suppose and that's more than enough. Even when life becomes almost too much to take, I've realised it can be good to be relied upon. It's good to be there to tell her things will all be okay, even when I don't quite know that for sure. I'm still able to hope and believe it myself.
You see, that's the least she deserves from me. In so many ways I’m lucky to have been able to live a life filled with beautiful moments. And so many of those moments have been spent with her, which is probably the best luck of all.
I know she's waiting for me right now. I pass terraced houses lit-up in warm, silver-tinged gold. My feet, no matter how tired, will always know their way to her and they turn me towards the front gate that leads to the door of our home. I open it and try to peer in through the window, sumptuous scarlet curtains obscure my view, though the light that shines from inside can still be seen. I knock on the front door with my usual three taps and it opens to reveal Rebecca Blake to me again. Her beautiful face is framed by long blonde hair and her liquid brown eyes look back at me. She smiles and it still makes my heart jump and then beat with even greater intensity than before.
Not for the first time, I see a golden halo of light and hair above her and, as I go to kiss her, I know she will always be the past, the present and the future for me. And I think that might just be something I’m ready for now.
Learn About The Author
A writer of multiple genres, James Eddy began writing film and television scripts before moving into Short Stories, Novels and Novellas. ‘The Ghosts Are Out Tonight’ is the tenth part of his short story collection, ‘Diamonds’. For more information, please visit www.jameseddy.co.uk or feel free to contact him via Twitter or Facebook
ABOUT YOUNGBLOOD BOOKS
Founded in 2012, Youngblood Books is owned and operated by James Eddy. We publish a diverse range of genres, including Comedy, Drama, Children's Stories, Romance, Fantasy, Literary Fiction and Comics. Visit us at www.youngbloodbooks.co.uk to keep up to date with all our new releases.
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