Page 70 of Christmas at the Movies
Sarah put her arms around his shoulders. ‘It’s OK to cry if you need to, James. I know you’re trying to stay strong, but you’ve got to let it out at some point.’
He hadn’t shed a tear for his father, not even on the day they’d lost him. It wasn’t that he was trying not to cry, it was that hecouldn’t. There was a constant tightness in his chest, an accumulation of unshed tears building up inside him. He just hoped that the dam wouldn’t burst in the middle of his eulogy.
James wrapped his arms around his wife’s waist and buried his face on her shoulder, inhaling her comfortingly familiar scent of citrus and spice. They stood like that for ages, with Sarah stroking his back reassuringly.
Eventually, the undertakers arrived to drive them to the church. They drove past the cinema where he and his dad had gone every weekend to watch movies. It had recently shut down, which felt like another blow. It wasn’t surprising, though. Their own cinema was thriving, but the running costs were higher than James had ever anticipated.
At the church, the pews were full of neighbours, cousins, Sean’s former colleagues from Pinewood, and a few of James’s oldest friends and their parents. For such a quiet, unassuming man, Sean had made his mark on everyone he’d met. James had received cards and messages from so many people who shared stories of Sean’s kindness. Knowing how loved his father was brought James some small comfort, but didn’t alleviate the tightness in his chest.
As the organist began to play ‘An Irish Blessing’, James and the other pallbearers carried Sean’s coffin down the aisle. James stared straight ahead stoically as he listened to his father’s favourite hymn. A lump was lodged in his throat and his chest felt so tight, it hurt to take a breath, but the dam held.
James’s cousin Sinead did the first reading. As they listened to the words chosen to bring comfort, Sarah began to cry. James put his arm around her shoulder and handedher the handkerchief in his pocket. They weren’t just mourning Sean, they were also grieving for the baby they’d lost last year. Their joy over Sarah’s pregnancy had turned to sorrow at their twelve-week scan, when no heartbeat could be detected.
‘Don’t lose faith, my boy.’ Sean had comforted James after hearing the news. ‘It’s all part of God’s plan.’
James envied his father’s faith. Intellectually, he knew there was no scientific proof for the existence of a higher power, or the afterlife. Yet, he had to hope that his father’s spirit, and that of their unborn child, were with God. Even if heaven did not exist as a place where angels strummed on harps, James believed that his father’s spirit was alive, somewhere in the cosmos. Energy could not be created or destroyed, it just changed form.
‘Good luck,’ whispered Sarah, her eyes bright from tears, as James stood to give the eulogy. James had agonised over the speech, knowing it was impossible to put into words how much his dad had meant to him. How he would always strive to live up to the values his dad had instilled in him.
Here goes, thought James. He cleared his throat and began to speak, hoping he would do his father justice.
‘As most of you know, my dad worked for years at Pinewood Studios. I was named after James Bond, because Dad loved those films and was proud to have worked on them. I may have been named after a movie hero, but my dad was one of life’s true unsung heroes. He was a kind and decent man – a loyal husband, a loving father, a hard-working colleague and a caring friend.’ James’s voice cracked with emotion as he read the words he’d written. ‘He always went out of his way to help other people and never expected a thing in return.’
Pausing to compose himself, James looked up and saw many people in the congregation nodding in agreement. He went on to tell them how much his father had adored his mother. How he’d always encouraged James’s academic interests. The happy holidays they’d had visiting family in Ireland.
He concluded by saying, ‘Some of my happiest memories of Dad were watching films together, and, later, working side by side as we restored a cinema in the Cotswolds. He was an excellent craftsman, but an even better father and grandfather. Dad, the final credits have rolled, but you will never be forgotten.’
‘Well done,’ Sarah whispered, squeezing his hand when he sank back into his seat, weak with relief that he’d got through the eulogy without breaking down.
After the mass was over, Sean’s coffin began its final journey to the strains of ‘Ave Maria’. In the churchyard, Sean was lowered into the ground. His name had already been added to the cross marking his wife’s grave: Sean Nicolas O’Hara and Mary Eileen O’Hara. It gave James some small comfort to know that his parents were reunited at last.
Sarah sobbed quietly as the priest said one last prayer. But James’s eyes remained as dry as the soil that would cover his father’s grave.
Afterwards, there was a wake in the church hall, with the sandwiches Sarah had made, and cakes provided by various neighbours and parishioners. Sean’s former colleagues laughed as they traded anecdotes over cups of tea.
‘Remember when Sean pretended to have sawn off his finger on the set ofInterview with a Vampire,’ said one colleague, reminiscing.
‘Oh, yes,’ said another, chuckling. ‘There was fake blood spurting everywhere.’
A bald man in a smart suit and sunglasses approached James. ‘It was a lovely service. You did your father proud,’ he said in a thick Scottish accent.
‘Mr Connery,’ James stammered. ‘Thank you so much for coming.’ He’d met the famous actor once before as a boy. His dad had taken him to visit the set during the filming ofNever Say Never Again, the actor’s last appearance as Bond.
‘Sean was a fine man,’ said the film star, shaking James’s hand. ‘Everyone always used to joke thathewas the most important Sean at Pinewood.’
James laughed. His dad would have loved that.
‘He was very proud of you,’ added the star. He patted James on the shoulder, then his bodyguard escorted him out of the reception.
Sarah appeared at James’s side. ‘Was that …’
‘Yup,’ said James. ‘007 himself.’
His dad would have been delighted that Sean Connery attended his funeral, but no more so than any of the other people there – Mrs Gilligan, cousin Sinead and the chippies from Pinewood. Sean had treated everyone with equal respect and had encouraged his son to do the same.
When the crusts on the remaining sandwiches had begun to curl, and the tea urn had run dry, people started to say goodbye. As lovely as it had been to hear their stories and receive their condolences, James couldn’t wait for the funeral to be over. Once the final stragglers had left, James and Sarah returned to the flat, which reeked of lilies. It was preferable to the smell of smoke, which was imbued in the walls and carpet.
In the living room, James stood in front of the cabinet that housed his dad’s most prized movie memorabilia. There was a copy of every movie he’d worked on, and propsfrom various film sets he’d built – a James Bond pen that was secretly a recording device, a light sabre, a mask from Kubrick’sEyes Wide Shut.
