Saying Goodbye

[Ivy Tunstall]

Ivy stepped off the train, feeling numb. She'd come here on her own. Kiyla would have come if she'd asked, of course, but Ivy hadn't felt it would be appreciated by the others there. She went through the list of people Fanny had said had declared an intention to come. It had been fairly small. Her father hadn't been a bad man. So why were not many people coming? Maybe because not many people knew him? Her mother wasn't coming, of course. She wouldn't come - she still maintained that she had been rejected by the two of them. Ivy didn't know what to think any more.

Ivy signalled to a taxi driver and climbed in. "Taunton Crematorium, please," she said to him. He nodded, casting her a curious glance, which she threw off angrily. What business of his was it? Then she felt remorseful, and looked down at her toes.

It was a short, if uncomfortable ride. The driver went at a hair-raising speed round the main roundabout. Ivy thought of what her father would have thought in the same circumstances. Maybe he would have known how to cope better than her. Despite his frail condition at the end, he still had more life experience than she herself had. Now she felt very alone. The driver executed a sharp left-hand turn into the driveway of the crematorium. Ivy thanked him and gave him his money, stumbling out onto the pavement.

Ivy walked forward uncertainly. Fanny had arranged the whole thing. She'd been so good. Ivy wouldn't know what to say to her when she saw her. She looked over to the chapel. People were streaming out of it, all dressed in black. There wouldn't be nearly so many people for her father's funeral, that she knew. Did it matter anyway? He was gone now. Nothing could help now. Ivy looked down at her own apparel. Black. She hated the colour. So devoid of hope. Hope for the future. Ivy's future. What future?

Ivy looked up as she heard footsteps approaching and her name being spoken.
"Ivy." That was Fanny's voice. Ivy looked up and did her best to smile.

[Ivy Tunstall]

Fanny led Ivy over to stand in a smll alcove. This place was so beautiful, even at this time of year. There were late roses still providing colour. Ivy wondered whether her father would have a rose.

Ivy had to stand around for a long time in the cold, and she was grateful for her woollen coat. Family members and friends turned up in a steady trickle, until they had at least a respectable amount of people. Ivy had to take all their condolences, as well as try to talk to them. She hated it. Why couldn't they just leave her alone?

A long black car drew up, with a coffin inside. Soon six men were bearing the coffin inside. The minister, who had emerged from the chapel, motioned to follow. The coffin had flowers on it. They were beautiful. Fitting for her father. Ivy allowed Fanny to sit her down and resisted the urge to cry. She had to be strong.

[Ivy Tunstall]

Ivy passed the entire service in a daze. She was aware of everything that was said about her father being true, but not the whole story. It couldn't explain how lost and lonely she felt without him, despite the fact he had been more dependent on her than her on him. But she hadn't realised until recently what an emotional support he had been in the stead of her mother. And now that pillar was gone, and her life left in ruins. She had nowhere to go.

After what seemed like an age Fanny escorted Ivy out of the chapel, and put her in her own car. The little ones were fighting on the way back, but unusually, Ivy did nothing to stop them. Had she been her normal self, she would have been telling them stories. That would have kept them quiet and from causing trouble.

When they got back, Fanny led Ivy into her small sitting room, and Mr Ashton took the boys outside to play football. Ivy was vaguely aware of Fanny having a quiet word with Olivia and then coming back into the room. She looked up and, again, did her best to smile.

They sat there in silence for quite a while, Ivy mute, Fanny watching her closely and letting out the occasional sigh. Eventually she started, "Ivy..."

[Ivy Tunstall]

Ivy's insides felt tight. She had just lost her father, and she felt terribly lost and lonely. To Fanny she seemed dignified, sitting upright on the sofa, holding everything inside. But that wasn't how Fanny wanted Ivy to be. It wasn't natural. She knew that the girl had had to go through a lot. Now she had assumed the temporary responsibility for her. She knew that realistically, it couldn't go on for ever. Fanny could never be a mother to the child, and Mark could never be a father. Besides, there wasn't really room in the small, cramped house. Admittedly, it was slightly larger than that of Ivy's, but Fanny had her own brood to bring up. Much as she cared about Ivy, it just wasn't practical.

Fanny knew that Ivy attended a boarding school, but she had little idea where it was. Somewhere in Scotland. Fanny had never understood why she did that. Ivy hadn't been there with her father when he went. Maybe that was better, that she had been distanced, but it might well be something else that Ivy was beating herself up about. Not physically, but inside, Fanny could see that the 13-year-old was full of hurt and wonder. Probably wonder at the cruelty of the world. It really didn't seem fair.

Ivy was wondering what happened next now. There seemed to be little direction in the world. She could immerse herself in the wizarding world and never return to that of the Muggle world, which had caused her so much pain and hurt. She would be parentless there, able to fend for herself. But where would she go in the holidays? How would she support herself? Where would she live? Yes, she could buy her own house, but no... that wouldn't work. Nothing would work anyway. She couldn't stay and be a burden to Fanny all the time though. Which she certainly would be. Why did life have to make things so complicated? Why could things not just have gone on as they were before. They weren't perfect, for sure, but they were certainly better than this pain and uncertainty.

In the end, Ivy broke. She could not stand thinking of her father and her mother, and what a hopeless situation she seemed to be in now. She had friends at school, and friends at home, but what she wanted was someone to take the responsibility for her, so that she didn't have to do so herself. Her father had at least taken some of the responsibility. Now Ivy felt overwhelmed. Overcome with grief, she finally succumbed to sobs. Fanny sighed with relief. At least she had admitted it to herself. Now it was time to see if they could heal it. She was swift to Ivy's side, and for a moment, as Fanny hugged Ivy, something that spoke more empathy than everyone else's eloquent words of condolences, it seemed to Ivy that she was once again safe, in the company of a motherly figure, as she sobbed into the hug.