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"Sunflowers!" The woman said, her smile beaming whilst her hands overflowed with gorgeous yellow flowers. Her brown hair tied up and gardening gloves strapped tightly onto her hands. She was filled with life, joy, and every minuscule movement portrayed that.
"I can see that." The man laughed, taking in her mud-coated wellies, dirtied dress and the brown specks coating her face- they could have been freckles but given how close they were to the colour black he decided against this. Simon believed the only reason Alison could be so beautiful was that, in the dead of night, the moon would glaze its fingertips against her cheekbones caressing rosemary skin with such tenderness, as light danced across her skin; her lips would then glow with a soft pink with a dash of pepper. Brunette hair and olive skin mixed with that delicate flow she had.
Alison Crook, my dear reader, was the very essence of benevolence. She's the most benevolent thing you've ever seen, glazed in honey.
You can still picture the way the winds carried her above the earth, even now she's gone. "Too precious too touch the ground." You'd hear people cry "too precious,". Her husband always reminisces on the luck he withholds to have had the privilege of meeting a woman like Allison. Even after she lost her father, those eyes shone with that beautiful melancholy only the sweetest of women seem to posses. She would take Simons hand gracefully, curled her flesh coloured fingers around his decaying bones, greeting him like i was a pleasure for her too see. Like she was ready to leave her entire life behind, like she wasn't afraid, like he meant everything to her- like she was content.
She was amazing.
Allison Crook. The girl who smiled and waved.
The girl with gleaming eyes and rose tipped cheek bones: the girl who held her head high; the girl that made her life her own.
"Where did you get so many, Allison?" Simon asked, tracing the outline of the flowers.
"The meadows." She replied, striding across the decking and walking around into the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a vase. "After the great war, mam and i used to go out there and pick sunflowers for my father- we'd spend hours down there choosing the perfect ones. I'm telling you, that war was horrendous on us. It took my father, and i was only a wee girl, took mam and i from Scotland, and now i'll never get to go back." A hint of pain had started too deep through her story, so she breathed in deeply, composing herself back to perfection. She spun around, covering his hand in the gardening glove, and leaving up to whisper in his ear. "But hey, atleast i've got you, Simon."
He stepped even closer to her, his nose brushing against hers and his hands laying on her hips. "Forever and always, my love."
——
It was during WWII that simon died, only two years later. He was a valiant soldier, he fought for Allison, not his country. She kept him going, she made him sure that every day he felt like his world would fall apart, he had her. And on May 28th, 1940, he had to let her go. Allison remembered getting the letter. "Dear Mrs Crook." It read, "I'm sorry to inform you that your husband, Simon Crook, has recently perished in a fight for England." The rest of the letter is a blur, her tears coating her eyelashes to much to be visible. But she remembered.
A year later, her brother died. Greif began to consume her and her mother, but she held her head high, and every week she brought them sunflowers.
———
"Can i get you anything?" A man asked her, her curls bouncing and she twisted her head toward him.
"Hm?" She asked, a cigarette glued to her lips.
"I said, can i get you anything?" He chuckled, the music blaring behind them.
"Um, no, no thanks i was just here with a friend, shes disappeared now, but she'll come back." She blew the smoke from her lips, the corner of her mouth tilt king into a smile.
"Noel Copage." He said, holding out his hand and leaning against the bar.
"I didn't ask." She lulled, teasingly.
"Come on, pretty lady, what's your name?"
"Allison." She replied, taking another drag. "Just allison."
"Okay, just allison, can i get you a drink?"
———
"for christ sake noel, it's the 60s, it's your daughters first day at school, shut up and wear the bloody blazer."
"Yeah daddy, wear the blazer." Maxine giggled at him. The little girl walked around the living room, parading her brand new school uniform for all to see. Marie, their youngest daughter, giggled and burped from the crib in the corner of the room, clutching a golden flower in her hand.
"Life really can be beautiful"
———
"His name is James." Marie whispered, handing the new born to its grandma.
"Oh he's gorgeous. Look at you," She spoke so softly to the baby, cradling it against her chest and bouncing up and down with it. The baby smiled gleefully up at allison, her hair getting slightly greyer these days. But still, she possessed a beauty and poise that only she could behold. "You're my little sunflower, aren't you James."
"Mum, leave the kid alone," Maxine laughed playfully, "Now give him here, i want to hold him."
———
Marie had 2 more children: Hannah Rose and Elizabeth Grace. Hannah grew up a difficult child, always stubborn and going out to parties, drowning her .
self in alcohol. Elizabeth, Lizzy, followed in her footsteps, but managed to graduate university and began working with her father. When Hannah graduated university, she became a teacher. She also had three children, Allison's great grandchildren. James was always Marie's favourite, Allison always told her off for choosing favourites.
---------
When Aziraphale was born, his great nan took him to Disney Land, in Paris. Being 18 months old, he has no recollection of this, just the memory of screaming at the princesses there because they were so scary. He also remembered falling asleep in his Mickey mouse pasta, but that's not the point. His great nan also took him to Spain, Cornwall, Scotland, Peru- the idea of seeing Paddington bears aunt appealing to him. "Wheres aunt Lucy?" he kept whining, clutching his teddy bear to his chest.
"She's not here, Darling, look, there's a cafe over there lets get some juice for you."
As Aziraphale grew up his nan get less mobile, the less time the two had to go on roaring adventures. It didn't matter, Allison and noel still lived at home with their dog, and Aziraphake was welcome round anytime.
Aziraphale wasn't sure when it started happening, but at some point, it stopped just being Nanny and grandad in the house. There was a woman, a skinny, short woman with brunette hair, always tied back into a low ponytail. She wore light makeup and had a smile that made Aziraphale adore her instantly. She wore a blue uniform, with a white apron and carried around this big pole with a screen and loads of wires. Some of the wires went inside Granada's skin. "Those are funny" Aziraphale used to say when they poked the wires into his grandad. His grandad would always answer with "Those are crucial.'' which would earn him a slap from A llison on the other chair.
"Your grandad needs the wires to function, Zira"
"Its still funny."
One day, azirapale and his mum went to visit his nan and the place was filled with boxes. His nan handed him a stuffed rabbit then dragged his mum into the kitchen. "You play with that sweetie, ill be back in a jiffy."
Aziraphale recalls some whispered shouting.
'Carehome'
'Hes not well'
'He never wantd to end up in one of those places.'
———
Noel died when he was 97. In a carehome peacefully. The pair where in bed, lulling themselves to sleep and then he never woke up. She knew the moment it happened. He stopped breathing, his body relaxed and she sobbed. Once again, the last one standing.
————
"Crowley!!"
"What, mum?" He shouted back, dragging his head from out of his game.
"Aziraphales here."
A beat.
"Shit."
————
Two boys lay on a bed together. Two boys lay in a room together. Two boys lay tangled together, encasing themselves with eachother and clinging ont eachother for dear life- one more than the other. Crowleys hand threaded through aziraphales blonde curls, and kissed his hand every now and then.
"Do you miss her?"
"I dont believe it yet never mind miss her." Azirphale sniffed, his thraot clogged with edging tears.
They returned to a comfortable stillness, not a serenity, just a still composed silence.
After a few moments, crowley felt a wet patch seep into the clothe of his grey T-shirt, the tears burning his skin with aziraphales daemolition.
"Angel," Crowley murmed, timidly "Tell me about her."
"I dont know much."
"Anything."
Axirphale shot up abruptly, tears now gathering in his eyelashes, bluring his vision. "Thats the issue! I hardly know anything. You want to know what i can tell you? I can tell you her name was Allison Copage. I can tell you she liked poetry, that she was beautiful, that she was borrn in 1920. That she loved Sun flowers. I wanted to ask her about her first husband, abot how her and my grandad met, but this stupid pandemic stopped me from doing that, crowley! I loved her, and i miss her and i dont even know what she looks like anymore because i havent, i, i, i havent seen her, in a, in a year. I just want my nan, i just want a sunflower, i just, i just-"
"Shhh, its okay." And aziraphale collapsed into Crowleys arms. He sobbed, and clung to crowleys skin so hard he could have torn in off, but for aziraphale, crowley wouldn't be fragile and he wouldnt break. "Shhh, angle. Its all okay, ist gonna be okay."
—————
The funeral was short. Just close family, and for the sake of aziraphale, Crowley. He held his hand, wiped his tears and let him sob. At the end of it all, he pieced aziraphale together.
"I brought you these." he said, handing Azirphale sunflowers. "You mentioned them."
Aziraphale took them from his hand and pressed his lips against Crowleys. "Thank you."