Patrick was already awake and stirring when William entered his bedroom. ‘I’ve something dreadful to tell you, son,’ he began. ‘The worst possible news…’
‘Mam!’ cried Patrick, sitting bolt upright in bed. ‘She’s not…? No, she can’t be…?’ William nodded slowly.
‘I’m afraid so. Aye, lad; she’s gone. And I’ve done all that’s necessary…you know. I saw to that during the night. She’s at peace now… We’d best go and tell your sister.’
‘And Grandad,’ said Patrick, with tears welling from his eyes.
‘Aye, my father as well. Do you know…’ William shook his head in a bewildered way. ‘I can’t believe it meself yet. It’s as though I’m caught up in a bad dream. But I know I’m not. She’s gone, son. Your mother’s been taken from us, although God knows why.’
Maddy knew from the look on their faces when they had knocked and entered her bedroom that something was badly amiss. She sat up, her golden hair tousled from sleep and her brown eyes, so like her mother’s, staring at them in alarm.
‘It’s Mam, isn’t it?’ she asked, then noticing Patrick’s tears which he was unable to check, she began to sob loudly. ‘Oh no, not Mam. Please tell me she’s not…?’ William sat at the side of the bed and put his arms around her.
‘I’m afraid so, love. Your mother died a few hours ago, quite peacefully. She must have been more poorly than we thought. But you know, don’t you, that we all looked after her and we did all we could to make her better. It was pneumonia, you see. A lot of people have…have died from it recently. That’s why we’ve been so busy at the yard.’ Then, once again, he was overcome by tears.
Isaac was awake. He usually woke early, no longer needing his full eight hours’ sleep as he had when he was younger. The sounds of weeping coming from Maddy’s room told him something was wrong and he immediately guessed what must have happened. Quickly he pushed his feet into his carpet slippers, donned his plaid dressing gown and hurried across the upstairs landing.
‘She’s gone then?’ he asked, embracing his son in a manner unlike his usual undemonstrative way. Isaac was not give to great shows of affection, but that was not to say that he did not care. And William, too, knew of the depth of his father’s feelings for all of them. ‘Aye, it’s a real bad do, lad, it is that. She were a grand lass and you’ll miss her. Well, we all will.’
He held tightly to his granddaughter’s hand as William removed the muslin square covering his wife’s face, and they looked down on Clara’s serene and untroubled features for the last time. Maddy was the first one to speak, echoing the very thought that had occurred to William.
‘She doesn’t look like Mam,’ she said. ‘I know it is, but…she’s gone, hasn’t she? Like they told us in Sunday school. She’s gone to heaven, hasn’t she? The real Mam, I mean; she’s not here.’
‘Aye, that just about sums it up, love,’ said Isaac. ‘That’s what we’ve been taught all us lives and it’s what we’ve got to hang on to now. But it’s hard to understand the ways of the Lord at times and that’s a fact.’ He turned to his son. ‘Haven’t you sent for the doctor, Will? You didn’t get him during the night then?’
‘No…it was too sudden at the end.’ William spoke quietly, his eyes on his sad-faced daughter. ‘Run along now, Maddy love, and get dressed, and you an’ all, Patrick.’
He covered his wife’s face again and closed the bedroom door. ‘Perhaps I should have called him out as soon as I knew she’d…gone, but it was the middle of the night and it didn’t seem right to disturb him. To tell the truth I never even thought of it. I just wanted to see to Clara myself. I’ll phone Dr Metcalfe now. He’ll have to come to issue a…death certificate.’ He faltered at the words that he had been so accustomed to saying at other bereavements. He turned and looked perplexedly at Isaac. ‘Why, Father? Why has she been taken from us? It’s so unfair.’
‘Aye, I know, son,’ said his father. ‘Like I was saying just now, I doubt if we’ll ever understand.’
Maddy tugged at her brother’s arm. ‘Come in here a minute,’ she said, going into her bedroom. ‘I want to tell you something.’
Patrick followed her. Her eyes were red and she had cried a lot, but now she was bravely trying to stem her tears. ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘Is it something to do with…Mam?’
She nodded. She stared at him for a few seconds and then she said, in a quiet voice. ‘It’s about Bella…’ She lowered her voice even more. ‘I think she killed our mam…’
Patrick almost laughed, not that there was anything at all amusing about what she had said, but because it was so…ridiculous, so outrageous.
‘Killed her?’ he repeated. ‘Don’t be silly, Maddy. She couldn’t have done. Look, I know you’re upset, and so am I. And I know you don’t like Bella very much, but you can’t go saying things like that. Anyway, Mam died last night, didn’t she? There was only Dad with her. Bella wasn’t anywhere near. And she’s not here now.’
Maddy shook her head in exasperation. ‘No…what I meant was, I think she tried to kill her. I saw something. Yesterday…no, not yesterday; I’m all muddled up. It was Friday, the day we came home from school early ’cause it was foggy.’ She told her brother what she had seen: Bella standing with a pillow only inches from her mother’s face, the turned-back bedclothes and the open window with the cold air blowing in. ‘She said she was letting some fresh air in because Mam was so hot. And that she was changing her pillowslip. But I didn’t believe her.’
‘Did you tell her…what you’ve just told me? That you thought she was trying to…?’
‘No, of course I didn’t. And she was real nice to me afterwards. I think she must’ve been feeling guilty.’
Patrick was thoughtful. ‘I’ve no doubt you thought you saw something, Maddy,’ he told her. ‘And I must admit I don’t like the sound of the open window. But Bella’s been very good these last few days, making the meals and everything. Don’t say anything to our dad, will you? It’d only upset him even more. Or Grandad…he doesn’t like Bella very much and we don’t want to cause any more trouble. Anyway, even if what you saw was…suspicious – and I don’t think it was, really – there is nothing we can do about it.’
‘But I saw her!’ persisted Maddy.
Patrick smiled sadly. ‘I’m sorry, but I think you might have been mistaken. Bella was very worried about Mam, you know; I don’t think she’d do anything to harm her; they were good friends.’ He turned his sad eyes towards his sister, then, in an unusual gesture, he put an arm around her. ‘We’re all going to miss her very much, aren’t we? Now, promise me you won’t say anything.’
‘All right,’ replied Maddy. ‘I won’t.’ But she knew what she had seen and what she still believed.
Chapter Eighteen
Bella’s arrival, to see to the family’s breakfast on Sunday morning, coincided with the visit of Dr Metcalfe. It was a solemn-faced William who opened the door to both of them.
‘Oh dear,’ said Bella. ‘Has Clara taken a turn for the worse? I did hope she might be getting better.’
‘No,’ said William briefly. ‘I’m afraid she’s gone… Clara died during the night.’
‘Oh no!’ Bella cried out with shock and dismay which were not pretence. She had been hoping against hope that that would not happen. It must have been very sudden. She thought she had never seen so much anguish on a man’s face as there was on William’s as he turned to look at her. For a moment he stared at her blankly, seeming not to know who she was or why she was there.
Then, recovering himself a little he said, ‘Bella…yes, of course. The breakfast…and dinner, too, I suppose, although I don’t think we will feel like eating very much.’
‘No, possibly not; I understand,’ she said. ‘I really am very, very sorry, William.’ Tentatively she placed a hand on his arm but he made no response.
His features did not soften into even the slightest semblance of a smile as he said, curtly, ‘Thank you. Now, if you will excuse me I m
ust attend to Dr Metcalfe.’
She followed the two men through the doorway and entered the kitchen, whilst they went upstairs to the bedroom. Isaac and Patrick were seated at the table looking down at the empty plates in front of them. They lifted their heads, staring at her with a vacant look in their eyes. Maddy, busy at the stove, did not even turn round.
‘I’ve…just heard,’ Bella faltered, ‘about Clara. I saw William…and the doctor. It’s dreadful news, Mr Moon,’ she said, addressing her remarks to Isaac. ‘I’m so sorry…for all of you.’
‘Aye, well…so are we,’ replied Isaac gruffly. ‘If you’ve come to see to us breakfasts then there’s no need. Our Maddy’s making a bit of toast, aren’t you, love?’
‘Yes, Grandad,’ replied Maddy. She turned round then, narrowing her eyes and staring across at Bella. The look she levelled at her was, Bella thought, full of hatred. It was a secretive and meaningful sort of look too…or was she only imagining it? Isaac and Patrick were unaware of the malice in the girl’s stare, but they did not seem to welcome Bella’s presence any more that Maddy did. ‘I can manage, thank you…Aunty Bella,’ she said evenly.
Her eyes were red and it was clear that she had shed a good many tears. Bella could not have said there was insolence in her tone, but the meaning was clear; we do not want you.
‘I understand,’ said Bella. ‘It’s a family time. You will want to be on your own. But if you should need me later…’ She hesitated before going on to say, ‘There’s a shoulder of lamb I bought yesterday. It’s in the pantry, and there are the vegetables to see to…’
‘Aye, well… I suppose we’ll have to try and eat to keep our strength up,’ said Isaac. He paused for a moment and Bella guessed at the thoughts running through his mind. However would they manage without Clara to look after them?
‘So if you don’t mind,’ he continued, ‘happen you could see to it for us…please, Miss Randall?’
‘I can do it, Grandad,’ said Maddy quickly and a trifle truculently. But her grandfather shook his head.
‘Nay, love. We’d best let…er…Bella come and give us a hand today, and then, well, we’ll have to see…’
Bella left them to it for the moment, returning to her own rooms to make herself a cup of tea and a slice of toast. She could not stem the resentful thoughts that sprung to her mind. When all was said and done the Moon family could not manage without her. They needed a capable woman to run their household for them. Isaac knew that very well and so did William. They had been only too willing to make use of her over these last few days. And what would they do now? she wondered…
As she sat by the fire she had laid earlier that morning she felt her hands and then her limbs beginning to tremble. She gripped tightly at the chair arms, trying to get a grip on herself as well. Her sorrow at Clara’s death was genuine, but so was her fear. Her wicked thoughts and the action she had so very nearly brought about, had they contributed in any way to Clara’s death? It must have been very sudden at the end. Was it because she had been deprived for a time of her vital medicine? Had Clara, in those few moments when the cold air blew in on her, suffered a relapse from which her body could not recover? And there was something else, which might be even more pertinent to the question; what thoughts were going through Maddy’s mind right now? Had she told anyone of what she had seen, or who was she likely to tell? The child disliked her, she knew that, and she was grieving over the death of her mother. She, Bella, might be accused of murder! Her hands flew automatically to her throat. The penalty for murder was hanging; to be hanged by the neck until you are dead…
It would be futile to argue that she hadn’t meant it, that she would never have gone through with it. Bella did not know herself what she might or might not have done if the girl had not returned at that moment. But the fact remained that the evil vicious thought had been there in her mind, and now Clara was dead.
But she would – she must – make amends. She must behave with Maddy as though the incident had never happened. And maybe, in a little while, the girl would come to the conclusion that she had only imagined what she had seen. She, Bella, would prove to them all what a devoted friend she had been to Clara.
Clara’s coffin was the finest that William had ever made, and he had insisted on completing every last detail of it himself. It was made of oak wood of the very best quality, French polished to a high gloss and with six ornamental handles of silver gilt. It was lined with pitch, as were all coffins to make them waterproof, which was then covered with cotton wool padding. Coffin linings varied in quality; cotton, silk or satin according to what the family could afford. William chose ivory satin with a frill all around the circumference of the coffin. The outer edge hung down over the sides, to be tucked in when the coffin lid was finally screwed down. Clara’s head lay on a satin pillow, and her golden hair against the whiteness of the coffin lining and shroud shone just as brightly in death as it had in life. William combed it gently and reverently in soft waves over her forehead and ears.
Her hands were crossed over her breast, the plain gold wedding band visible on her left hand. It was usual, although not always the case, for relatives to request that wedding rings should not be removed. William recalled that family members sometimes asked that cherished items might be buried with the deceased; a brooch or locket maybe, a family photograph or a Bible or prayer book. He had formerly regarded such requests as sentimentality, but at the last moment when he looked down at the body of his beloved wife he realised that perhaps they were no such thing. He reached for the pocket-sized Bible bound in white leather which Clara had carried on their wedding day, and placed it beneath her folded hands.
There… She was as lovely as ever; and although he might wish that it could be otherwise, he knew that friends and neighbours would want to come, as was the custom, to pay their last respects to the woman they had all admired so much. Strangely enough, Clara had never had many close friends – her family had always been all in all to her – but she had been well loved in the community. No one had ever had a wrong word to say about her. Clara had been a truly good woman.
A verse from the Bible came into William’s mind as he stood at the side of the coffin, loath to go away and leave her all alone. ‘Who can find a virtuous woman, for her price is far above rubies…’ It was from the Book of Proverbs, he thought, although he was not an ardent reader of the Bible. He would ask the minister of the chapel if they could have those verses read out at the service. They were to have a service at the chapel on Queen Street before Clara was taken for burial at the cemetery on Dean Road. The arrangements had been made for Friday morning, which was in four days’ time.
His father, and Patrick and Maddy came first to look upon Clara in her coffin. William had decided that she must remain there in the bedroom where she had always slept, given birth to her children, and where she had died, rather than in the family living room. Some households had a separate room, referred to as the ‘front room’ or the ‘best room’ where deceased persons could be laid out, but the Moon family had just the one large room, apart from the kitchen, where they ate and spent their leisure time. Both the children were dry-eyed now that a day and a half had passed since their mother’s death, but William knew that the funeral would be an ordeal for them. He had told both of them that he would like them to be there. It had been the custom at one time for only the men to attend a funeral, leaving the womenfolk at home, but customs were gradually changing. Patrick, of course, was well used to attending such events; and even Maddy, brought up as she had been in close proximity to the practices and traditions associated with death, knew more about it than did most children of her age. William considered that she was old enough, at nearly eleven years of age, to attend her own mother’s funeral.
From Tuesday onwards there was a steady stream of visitors to the Moon family home bringing small posies or larger bunches and sprays of flowers. Wreaths to place upon the closed coffin would arrive on the morning of the funeral. Most touching
were the posies of snowdrops or primroses carried by the children; school friends of Maddy or girls from her Sunday school class whose mothers had brought them along to say how sorry they were. Maddy, like her mother had been, was a very popular person. The sprays contained mainly lilies, the conventional funeral flower, or chrysanthemums in shades of gold, bronze and russet-red. Very few flowers were available at that time of the year, although there were some expensive ones grown in hothouses.
William had seen little of Bella since Clara’s death. She had appeared shaken and extremely grief-stricken. He had never seen her so subdued. He wondered, again, if he had been wrong in keeping her at arm’s length for so long. After all, there was nothing between the two of them now. It seemed that she had been very fond of Clara and was as saddened by her death as the rest of them. She had prepared their meals and then disappeared back to her own rooms which were now over their shop. He appreciated the tact she was showing by not dining with them. It was a time for just the family members to be alone together, although sensitivity was not a trait that he had noticed in Bella in the past.
The shop, Moon’s Mourning Modes, had remained closed on Monday and Tuesday, and would close all day Friday, of course, the day of the funeral. William decided to speak to Bella, however, on the Tuesday evening, to suggest that the store should open as usual on the Wednesday and Thursday. It was something to which he had given serious thought. He did not want to appear callous or grasping, especially at such a sad time; on the other hand the shop provided a service for the folk in the area and there was no other shop in the town to compare with it. There might well be people wanting to purchase items of mourning to wear at Clara’s funeral. The undertaking side of the business, which was a separate concern, would remain closed all week.
A True Love of Mine Page 23