Three is a crowd: It is game, set, match for Julie

(Continued from last issue)

David and Diane have been married for years; then there is Julie, the young secretary whose axis collides with the couple’s in ways none of them saw coming.

JULIE

“David! What are you doing here? I thought you were at your mum’s place!” I exclaimed in surprise.

“I was, and I’m heading back there; I just went to the house to change and pack a bag for the village, and decided to pass by on my way back,” he explained quietly.

He looked exhausted, with bags under his eyes that told me he had not slept, and in spite of my earlier feelings of resentment towards him for the way he had treated me, my heart went out to him, and my natural instinct to somehow take care of him instantly kicked in.

“Do you have time for some breakfast? I’m sure you haven’t eaten anything; I could fix you something quickly.”

“No thanks; I was just passing by to check in before leaving for the village. I’ll be taking the car, but not the driver, so if you need him, he’s available, as is mum’s car, as I’ll be driving her.”

“Thank you; I was actually just thinking about that before you arrived,” I paused briefly, then went on.

“I was wondering how to get to the church for the funeral service.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re attending?” he asked uncertainly, his tone making it obvious he had not even considered this as a possibility.

“Yes,” I answered firmly, despite his less than positive reaction. Maybe it was the determination in my voice, or maybe he was just too tired to argue with me, but he capitulated without arguing.

“Alright, I’ll send him over as soon as I get to the house, so he should be here,” he glanced at his watch, “within an hour.”

“Thank you.” “You’re welcome. I’ve got to get going now; take care of yourself and Junior, and I’ll see both of you when I get back in a few days.”

I didn’t remind him that I would be seeing him at the church in a few hours; from his answer, it was clear that even if I did see him at the service, this was to be our final interaction. I was fine with that, and to reassure him on that score, I nodded in agreement.

“Take care of yourself too,” I answered softly. “I will,” he promised, and with that, he turned and left as suddenly as he had come.

DAVID

Arriving at the church for my father’s funeral service was an almost surreal experience; I had driven my mother and sister behind the hearse, and as my father’s heir, I was the lead pallbearer, but even as I carried the coffin down what seemed like an endless church aisle to the front of the church, I felt like I was walking in a trance, operating on auto-pilot.

With exception of the first two rows that had been reserved for family, the church was full, but I did not notice or pay attention to the congregation, my entire being only focused on the coffin that I bore.

It was not until I had set it down, and taken my seat next to my mother, and the presiding priest had started the service, that I finally became aware of my surroundings, most notably that Diane and the children were not there.

A discreet glance around the church during the opening hymn confirmed that I had not somehow missed them; Diane’s parents were there, but she and the children were not, and the realization confused and angered me at the same time.

Had Diane really decided not to attend the service simply because I had refused to let her have the driver for the trip to the village, or was she, in a final act of disrespect to my father, going to show up late for his funeral service? Both scenarios were maddening.

On the other hand, during that same discreet glance around the church, I had spotted Julie at the back of the church, on the very last row, by the door. She did not have Junior with her, and standing slightly away from the other mourners on the pew, she cut a lonesome figure by herself.

When she told me she would be attending the service, although I had understood her position, I had initially been apprehensive about letting her come, worried that Diane would see her and cause some sort of scene, but seeing her there now – especially with Diane noticeably absent – I was warmed and comforted by her presence.

As the last mournful notes of the hymn were sung, and the priest asked the congregation to once again take their seats, a rustle at the back of the church, made me, along with several other mourners, look back, and my blood started to boil, and I gritted my teeth to control my mounting anger. Diane had arrived.

DIANE

I had underestimated just how long it would take to get three uncooperative children ready for a funeral service on my own.

First, Samantha threw a mini tantrum when I insisted that she could not wear her favourite pink party dress, and it was all I could do, not to throttle her, and stuff her into the smart, much more appropriate dark blue one I had laid out for her.

Next, Daniel started whining about how uncomfortable and stuffy he was in his suit, and to top it off, Stephanie spilt juice down the front of her dress just before we were finally ready to leave the house, resulting into a last-minute panicked search for a replacement.

As frustrated as I was with the children, another part of me was more irritated at David; he should have been here helping me, rather than babysitting his mother who already had an alternative support system in the form of his sister.

When he had told me that morning that not only was he going to be driving his mum and sister to not just the church, but the village as well, and had added insult to injury by refusing to at least let me have the driver drive the children and I to the village, I had decided there and then that we would only attend the service, and not the funeral, and seeing just how much of a handful the children were for me to handle on my own, I knew I had made the right decision.

Of course, I knew he would be mad about it, but right then, at my wits end with the children, I did not care. If he had really wanted us there, he should have planned to help get us there, I told myself to justify my decision.

Besides the practical reasons for not subjecting myself to single-handedly looking after three young children on a trip to the village for a funeral of a father-in-law who had never even liked me, it did not take me long to realize another reason I had not initially thought of not to go for the funeral; with David gone, and his little whore no doubt staying in Kampala, there would be no one to stop me from keeping track of her every move, especially around the Katosi site, which, with his father’s death, I now intended to keep a very close eye on.

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