Page 53 of A Family Affair
What had her grandad done that caused the vicar to ring and tell her to get to the church immediately? Apparently, there’d been an incident with Mr McCarthy, who was asking for Honey. He was okay – not ill – but she should get there as soon as she could.
Never had the three miles to Marple seemed so far away, and never ever had there been as many cars driving at five miles an hour right in front of her. By the time she pulled up outside the church, Honey’s head was pounding, and her heart was racing, but at least there were no police cars attending the ‘incident’. So that had to be a good sign.
After being pointed in the right direction by one of the groundsmen, Honey ran along the path and between the neat rows of gravestones, realising she was heading towards their family plot. There, gasping for breath, she found the vicar and Ernie.
The vicar stood, one hand on Ernie’s shoulder in a supportive rather than restraining gesture. By his side, sitting on the grass, was her grandad, his arms resting on bent knees, his head bowed.
‘Oh Grandad, I’ve been so worried. What’s happe–’ It was as her eyes strayed from Ernie to the vicar, who dipped his head to indicate she should turn around, that she spotted it. Her hand flew to her mouth while she stared.
‘Grandad, what have you done?’ There, amongst what was left of her great-grandmother’s headstone, lay the lump hammer that he’d obviously used to smash the memorial stone to pieces.
Ernie remained silent and, reading the room, or in this case the graveyard, the vicar kindly said, ‘I can see this is a sensitive issue, so I’ll leave you in peace. I have no intention of informing the police as it’s clearly a family affair, but we will need to discuss the damage. I’ll wait in the church. Take as long as you need.’
After a shoulder pat, a quick nod and a kind smile for Honey, he picked up the lump hammer, obviously keen on damage limitation, then scurried away, leaving Honey and Ernie alone.
Sitting beside him on the damp grass, Honey waited for an explanation, even though she knew more or less what had happened and why.
Seconds passed then, ‘I’m sorry, lass.’
She reached over and placed her hand on his arm. ‘I know, Grandad. So am I. And I wish more than anything that you weren’t feeling like this, or I could take it all away. In fact I wish I’d not told you now.’
Ernie lifted his head to reveal an unshaven face and bloodshot eyes that must have shed a fair amount of tears overnight. Either that or he’d not slept a wink.
‘Don’t say that lass, because I stand by what I said yesterday and I’m glad I know the truth. I swear it as my oath. But I just lost it and had to do something with the anger inside. There’s just too much of it to keep locked up and if I didn’t let it out, show her how I feel and how much I hate her, I reckon I’d have gone loopy.’
Biting her tongue, she didn’t mention that smashing a gravestone to bits in broad daylight with the biggest hammer she’d ever seen wasn’t exactly normal behaviour and instead pointed to the grave on the left of Molly’s.
‘I see you left Beryl alone then.’
Thankfully that headstone was intact but, at that moment, Honey didn’t want to read the words inscribed in gold. She always did. Every time she came to lay flowers on special days but right then, they would have sounded hollow and that loss of faith in her aunt made her incredibly sad.
‘Hmm. Only because the gardener bloke saw me and came over and talked me down. Nice man. I know his dad from the bowls club. He took the hammer off me and rang the vicar. When he came, I thought he’d ring the police, but he remembered I always bring a box of veg for the harvest, so I reckon he took pity. The power of carrots and turnips, eh?’
Great,thought Honey,now everyone at the bowls club will think he’s lost the bloody plot.Still she was glad someone had come along, and that Beryl’s gravestone was intact, because she was still on the fence where her aunt was concerned. The happy childhood memories counteracting confusion and disbelief.
As for Molly, that was even tougher to get her head around, and the scales of truth and justice tipped dramatically. Honey had a feeling that where both of them were concerned she’d never truly be able to decide how she felt about what either had done.
Still, she had to ask, ‘Were you really going to smash Aunty Beryl’s, too?’
Ernie shrugged. ‘I don’t know, lass. I don’t know about ’owt anymore. What I do know is my whole family, apart from you obviously, is here, in this bloody place. Look,’ he pointed at the plot of neat graves, ‘There’s them two liars, then my old dad who has nowt to be ashamed of at all, and our Kevin.’ At this point his voice cracked and he took a moment before he continued, the words a strangled sob. ‘And my Nancy.’
Honey rested her head on his shoulder and let him cry. It was all she could do. He was in shock. She was sure of it, and whether he liked it or not she was going to stay with him for a few days. There was no way she could leave him alone in this state.
It was as her eyes roamed the words on the stones of the good guys in the plot that something occurred to her. And even though it probably wouldn’t make the whole bloody mess better, it was something she’d needed to say out loud for a long time.
CHAPTER40
When his body became still, and after she felt the movement of him wiping his eyes, even though he continued to gaze at the grass beneath his feet, Honey tried to break through the barrier she could tell he was building around himself.
‘Grandad, can I tell you something that’s been bothering me for years and years. Ever since Dad died and I know you find it hard to talk about it, but I just want you to listen.’
Ernie remained silent. His head bowed again so she continued. ‘I used to think it was my fault, that Dad died. I still do deep down.’
Ernie lifted his head slightly and tilted it so she could just see his eyes. ‘Why lass? You know that’s not true.’
Honey shrugged. ‘Maybe, but I’ll never know, will I? If my selfish actions could have changed the course of history.’
Her grandad just looked and waited so she explained. ‘Twice Mum tried to leave him. That I knew of anyway, but maybe there were more. I remember her disappearing a lot, only for a day then coming home very late and I could tell she’d been crying. Perhaps she’d lost her nerve or had nowhere to go. On the occasions I stopped her it was because I couldn’t bear the thought of them splitting up.’ She raced on: if he interrupted, she’d lose her nerve.
