Page 16 of One Day and Forever
Val indicated before turning into the grounds of the crematorium, then parked in the first available space. ‘Okay, pal, you’re ready?’ she said, with a supportive smile.
‘I’m ready,’ Alice said calmly, before taking a deep breath and opening the Jeep door.
It was only a few minutes before the service was due to start, so a large group of mourners were already waiting outside, under the roof canopy, adhering to the tradition that they shouldn’t go inside before the coffin and the immediate family. They didn’t have long to wait. Moments after Alice and Val joined them, a hearse, followed by two long black limos snaked up the drive towards them.
The family alighted from the cars first, and Alice scanned them for sight of Morag, but she couldn’t see her. In fact, shedidn’t recognise anyone at all. Had they come to the wrong service?
Or maybe not. The older man, the one who was now making his way from one of the family cars to the hearse, could that be Cillian? She wasn’t at all convinced. It was difficult to tell from thirty yards and thirty years away.
Alice bowed her head respectfully as the coffin was taken out of the hearse and raised onto the shoulders of the pallbearers, who then, slowly, steadily, entered the building, with the rest of the mourners following behind them, to the sound of Westlife singing ‘You Raise Me Up’ coming from the speakers. Alice didn’t have to look at Val to know what she’d be thinking – that whoever chose that song had the kind of sense of humour she’d have liked to get to know. Instead, she kept her head down as they slipped into the back row.
The celebrant introduced herself, explained that this would be a humanist service and then went on to welcome everyone.
‘Thank you all, on behalf of Audrey’s family, for being here today to celebrate her life.’
Audrey. That confirmed they were at the right service. So where was…?
‘Audrey was dearly loved by her children, her grandchildren, by her beloved late sister, Morag, who passed away just a year ago…’
Alice didn’t hear the rest, drowned out by the noise of the wind being punched out of her chest. Morag was dead? Perhaps she’d been naïve, but she hadn’t even considered that could be the case. Morag was the same age as her, barely fifty-five. No age at all, really. Alice felt a crushing wave of sadness, of heartbreak for her old friend, and of sorrow that they would never have a chance to meet up again, to reminisce, to share stories about the time in their lives when they thought anything was possible and the world was at their feet. She’d completely messed her own lifeup, but she sent up a silent prayer that Morag’s had been much happier, that she was loved and that she’d woken up every day glad of the choices that she’d made.
Val’s hand slipped into hers, and Alice was grateful, yet again, that she’d found this woman, and sad that Morag didn’t get to meet her too. They’d have enjoyed each other. Now that page had turned.
She listened to the rest of the ceremony, to the funny stories that Audrey’s son, Hamish, told about his mum, to the heartbreaking eulogy from her daughter, Jill, and to the beautiful words from the celebrant about life, about death and about touching the hearts of others.
Poor Morag. Poor Audrey. Alice’s heart broke for them both. But that grief came with something else – even more determination to live the years she had in front of her on her own terms.
When the final words had been said, the platform that Audrey’s coffin rested on lowered into a void in the pedestal and then the top closed on it. The heart-crushing sobs of a few of the congregation were the only sounds to be heard, until the opening bars of the final song came from the speakers.
Val leaned in close to her ear. ‘Do you still want to go to the hotel? I’m happy to do whatever you feel you need to.’
Alice gave a small shake of her head. No. She’d hoped that it would be a bittersweet reunion with an old friend. Now that wouldn’t happen, going back to spend time with a group of mourners she didn’t know just felt like an intrusion on their pain.
I’m sorry, Morag,she sent up a silent message to her pal.I wish I’d listened. I wish I’d stopped you leaving. I wish I’d come with you. I wish I’d been a better friend. I wish that I’d had the sense to keep in touch, to track you down, to find out why we drifted apart and to bring us together again.
But now it was time to go, because all she’d wanted was to see Morag again. To share the stories of their lives. And yes, maybe to ask her old friend why she’d warned her about Larry and why she’d broken off all contact. However, Morag was gone, so Alice was going to have to come to terms with the fact that there was no-one left who could give her the answers to those questions.
8
ZAC
As the ceremony ended, the opening bars of ‘My Heart Will Go On’ filled the room, proving that no one could say Aunt Audrey didn’t have a wry sense of humour. Everyone remained in their seats, some of them joining in, others just patiently waiting to be directed. The crematorium ushers appeared at the end of the front pew and beckoned the immediate family out, before moving down the aisle, making sure everyone filed out row by row. Zac placed his hand on his dad’s crestfallen shoulder, then walked slowly behind him, the last of the family line to exit the row.
As commanded by the end-of-life wishes of his wonderfully prepared Aunt Audrey, as soon as they got outside, he waited at the double doors of the crematorium, Jill and her husband, Archie, on one side of him, Hamish and his wife, Mandy, on the other, to shake the hands of the mourners who’d been good enough to come and pay their respects. Aunt Audrey was big on manners and traditions like that. Hopefully, if she was indeed watching from above, she’d understand that his dad had decided that he wouldn’t participate in the line-up, in contradiction of Audrey’s request. Zac hadn’t been surprised when his dad cameover to whisper that he was going to head straight to the hotel, to make sure the tea and sandwiches (specification number eight on Audrey’s plan for the day) were ready and waiting for the mourners to arrive, because he had a feeling that his dad was just struggling with the emotion of it all, and the memories it was bringing up of the day, less than twelve months ago, when they’d buried his mum. Zac felt a comfort in being beside his cousins in this moment, but his dad had always been one to stay strong and stoic and deal with his pain on his own.
Every single person who came out of the building worked their way along the family line, some hugging, some shaking hands, the ones he hadn’t met usually introducing themselves before they expressed their condolences. Some even shared a little anecdote about Audrey and he reacted to them all with gratitude, touched that, just like his mum, she’d left her mark on so many people’s lives.
Zac had just shaken the hand of one of his aunt’s neighbours –‘wonderful woman – she was the only one on the street who knew what colour bin went out every week; when she went on holiday it was chaos out there’– when he turned to see that there were only two people left. Must have been the ones who’d sat in the back row.
Both were women, the first, a striking vision, in a black furry jacket, which was the opposite end of the colour spectrum from her pale blonde hair, cut in a razor-sharp edge around her neck, but weirdly wide like a motorcycle helmet.
‘My condolences to you all,’ she said when she reached him. ‘I’m sorry to say I never had the pleasure of knowing Audrey, but I wish I had. She sounds like some wumman. I’m actually here to support a friend who was close to Audrey’s sister, Morag, back in the day.’
It was so unexpected, it almost winded him.
‘That was my mum,’ he said.
‘Och, son, I’m so sorry. I heard the celebrant mention that she passed away last year. What a time you’ve had. My heart is sore for your whole family. You take good care of yourself. I’m sure your mum and your aunt would want that for you.’
