Free Fifty Is Not a Four-Letter Word by Linda Kelsey

be softer feathered,
    Clouds, perhaps, will be whiter plumed;
    Rain, whose brilliance you caught and gathered,
    Purer silver have reassumed.
    Farewell, sweet dust; I was never a miser:
    Once, for a minute, I made you mine:
    Now you are gone, I am none the wiser
    But the leaves of the willow are bright as wine.
    We all wept. And while we were weeping, to my teary-eyed astonishment, Olly passed by me in the aisle, clutching his acoustic
     guitar. He sat down on a stool at the front, fixed his gaze in the middle distance, adjusted his strings, and began to play
     “Thank You,” Dido’s first hit single. It’s the chorus everyone remembers. The sweet simplicity of it: “I want to thank you
     for giving me the best day of my life.”
    I was moved and I was amazed. Olly had babysat for the boys at least once a week from the age of fourteen to sixteen. I knew
     he thought Ruth and Ed were pretty cool, and he’d sometimes pop in to see them and discuss new bands he’d discovered and thought
     they might enjoy. But I had no idea Ruth had meant so much to him. I suppose he considered her as a friend rather than a parent
     figure, and she was the first person that close to him who had died. By the time Olly reached the second chorus, everyone
     was joining in.
    Maddy, my best friend, who is divorced, no kids, was sitting next to me. She was too dazed to be distraught. When the ser-vice
     came to an end, she whispered urgently in my ear: “I have to talk to you, Hope. Alone.”
    “Let’s go round to the garden at the back. Everyone else will be gathering out front, so we should be able to find a quiet
     spot.” To Jack, who was sitting on my other side, I said, “Be back in five.”
    There was a bench, and we sat on it. Maddy immediately broke down.
    “That service was so beautiful,” I said. “Ruth was so loved, and she knew it, even at the end. You’ll be a rock for the boys,
     I know you will. And for Ed, too.”
    Maddy sniffed and tried to speak, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so wicked. So wicked. I will never be able to live
     with myself.”
    “What are you talking about? Wicked? What’s with wicked? You need a large brandy when we get back to Ed’s.”
    “But that’s just it. I can’t go back to Ed’s. I can’t go back to Ed’s or see the children ever again.”
    “Please, Maddy, you’re not making sense. You’re still in shock. Of course you can see Ed and the children. They’ll need you
     more than ever now.”
    “I loved her so much, and I betrayed her. Can’t you see what a terrible thing I’ve done?”
    “What terrible thing, Maddy? You were there for her, all the time you were there for her.”
    When she next spoke, Maddy’s voice sounded different, cold and hard. “Not after lights-out in the hospice, I wasn’t. Not when
     I was staying over at Ed’s to help out with the boys and make sure they got to school in the morning. Not when I was staying
     in the spare room. Or rather, not staying in the spare room and sleeping in Ed’s bed, fucking my brother-in-law while my beloved
     sister was dying. That’s what I mean by wicked, Hope. Do you get it now?”
    “I, I . . . Jesus, Maddy, what am I supposed to say? I just don’t know what to think. But I do know you’re coming back to
     Ed’s right now for the sake of the boys. And if I have to tie you up and bundle you into the trunk of my car to get you there,
     that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” I grabbed her not at all gently by the arm and practically dragged her down the pathway
     to the car park. “In!” I demanded when we reached the car, then I gave her a little shove toward the backseat. “Over here,
     Jack,” I shouted, slamming the door on Maddy and waving at him across the car park.
    When he got to the car, I simply said, “Maddy was feeling a bit too wobbly to face everyone. She’ll be okay by the time we’re
     all back at the house.”
    • • •
    It’s Friday night, the gathering of the clans