Highbridge: The Beginning

by Phil Redmond

  Sean, still not sure that decorating the church beyond the usual mournful bunch of lilies was the right thing to do, told Sandra that it was a funeral, not a wedding. But her reasoning was that people do it to celebrate weddings, so if funerals were now supposed to celebrate a life, then why not? He had tried to remind Sandra that people take years organising a wedding but you’re only given a week or so for a funeral. However, he was trumped when she reminded him that Janey was the only one of them to keep the faith and attend mass regularly, so the potted shrubs could go in and around the cemetery afterwards as both memorials and a donation to the church.

  ‘I think it’s lovely you’re doing the church up a bit,’ Glynnis said. ‘Janey was always so full of life, wasn’t she?’ With that she headed off, but stopped. ‘Any news on the swine that killed her yet?’

  Sean shook his head.

  ‘Pity, that,’ she said as she headed off, throwing the next line over her shoulder. ‘Would have been nice to have something positive to add to the so-called celebration of life.’

  Perhaps it was because he employed a lot of people – knew how fickle, idiosyncratic and dysfunctional they could be – that Sean, unlike his self-employed and hot-headed younger brother Joey, had already resigned himself to the fact that they might never know exactly what had happened to their sister. She was killed in a hit and run. That was clear. Clear enough for the police and coroner to have released the body for burial. A road traffic accident. Her missing car was a separate matter, he had been told. But he would keep pressing as much as he could. For information. Justice was something else.

  For Sean it was complicated. Why she was run down? In what circumstances? Was it an accident? Did she contribute in any way? Only by knowing all that could they determine what sort of justice, or closure, they were seeking. For Joey it was a much simpler matter. Janey didn’t run over herself. Someone did it. So they had to pay. Two brothers. One sister. Two viewpoints.

  • 08.45 a.m. – Luke Carlton’s Cottage, Highbridge

  None of that was going through Luke’s mind as he stood in what was originally the second bedroom but which had rapidly been rechristened Janey’s dressing room. There were a couple of free-standing hanging rails along one wall and tubular racks of shoes on another. The dressing table by the window was still littered with the detritus from preparing for the night out that had become her last. He ran his hand along the rails until it stopped on a short black dress with silver glitter across one shoulder. He picked it up and smelt it. It still had her scent. It cost her all of two pounds from the Thursday market, but she loved it. And, he had told her, she always looked a million dollars in it.

  He turned to face the full-length mirror he had screwed to the back of the door and for a moment he could imagine her wearing the dress. Standing next to him. In this same suit. He stood and stared. That’s all he had now. Imagination. And memories. And the tears. As well as the experience to know that he was in the denial phase. Not quite understanding. Not quite accepting. Going through the motions, accepting the formalities. And all the time knowing that he had to get through. Then wait. For the rage. It would come. He had seen it so often before. But not now. Now it was time to get through.

  • 08.50 a.m. – Sean Nolan’s Kitchen, Highbridge

  ‘I’ve done a card for Grandma,’ ten-year-old Megan announced as she came into the kitchen to find Sandra. ‘Look. It’s got a picture of a church on the front and –’ she opened the folded card to reveal the two inner pages– ‘a grave. A picture of Aunty Janey. Which was when she was here last Christmas. That’s Grandad’s leg there. And …’ She turned to the back page where there was an angel with wings on a cloud outside a set of what looked like big wrought-iron gates. ‘Aunty Janey going up to heaven. She’s outside at the moment because I thought she wouldn’t actually go in until after she was buried. Is that right?’

  Sandra took the handmade card and nodded. It was all she could do as she reviewed it. The care that had obviously gone into it. The carefully drawn ink outlines coloured in with hardly any overlaps.

  Fifteen-year-old Noah arrived just in time. As soon as he entered the room he saw his mother was having difficulty holding back her tears, so he grabbed the card and Megan’s shoulder and pulled them both towards the hall. ‘C’mon titch, let’s go and show this to Aunty Natasha. They’ve just arrived.’

  As he guided Megan out of the room he looked back to his mother. You OK? She nodded and mouthed a thank-you as she reached for a piece of kitchen roll to catch the first few tears before they got to her make-up. God, she thought, as she rested against the sink, I’d better not let Sean see that card until he’s done the eulogy.

  Outside, Natasha was squeezing the eight-year-old Volvo V70 Joey had used to pick up Luke between his father’s one-year-old Volvo XC70 and a brand new grey Audi Q7, while at the same time trying to arbitrate in yet another early morning squabble.

  ‘I’m not being a pain,’ eleven-year-old Alex insisted.

  ‘You are. Always.’ Lucy fired back. The worldly seven-year-old.

  ‘All I’m saying…’

  ‘Yeah. We heard,’ came sarcastically from nine-year-old Ross. ‘No school. Why get up so early?’

  ‘Because,’ the grumpy older sister Tanya said. ‘As we’ve told you a million times. We’re here to support Aunty Sandra.’

  ‘And Gramps and Granny,’ Lucy said.

  ‘Why’s she need supporting?’ the recalcitrant Ross asked. In a millionth-time tone.

  ‘Because she’s supporting Uncle Sean? Right, Mum?’ the sarcastic Ross asked, oblivious to the fact that his mother was desperately trying not to hit the Q7 behind her. Which she managed. Then turned to them all.

  ‘Right. That’s it. We’re all here to support your dad first. OK. Out.’

  As they all poured out of the car, she went to the back just to double-check that she had not touched the Q7. She hadn’t and as she took a moment to admire the car she longed for, knowing that it would be too much of stretch for them at the moment, a hand slid into hers. Nine-year-old Ross’s. ‘And we’re also here to support you because you’ll be supporting Dad, won’t you, Mum?’

  ‘I will, chicken, yes.’ She felt her eyes mist as she said it, but not for long as the moment was lost.

  ‘Ugghhh. Don’t call me that any more.’

  He went trudging off toward the house, followed by Alex and Tanya making chicken noises to wind him up even further.

  But that moment of sibling torment didn’t last long as Noah and Megan came out of the house to meet them.

  Tanya looked at Megan’s card and, like Noah, immediately sensed the emotion that it would stir in her mother, so she quickly showed it to Natasha, then swept Megan away back towards the house. Alex and Ross followed.

  ‘She’s quite the artist,’ Natasha said to Noah. ‘Have to get her to come and do some designs for me.’

  ‘Not sure she’s up to your standard, Aunty Nat.’

  ‘She knows how to hit the spot, though,’ Natasha smiled. ‘Everyone here?’

  ‘Think so. Dad’s just changing and the cars should be here any minute.’

  ‘How’s your mum?’ Natasha said as she linked Noah’s arm to walk him back to the house.

  ‘OK, I think. How’s Uncle Joe?’

  ‘As well as your dad, I suppose.’

  At least that was what Natasha hoped. At least Sean would be dwelling on the pointlessness of it all. But she knew Joey. And if he was off somewhere with Luke, he’d be thinking beyond that. About who did it. Why? And about revenge. When this was over, that would be the next supporting act she would have to play.

  • 08.50 a.m. – Luke Carlton’s Cottage, Highbridge

  Downstairs, Joey, now in black suit, white shirt and black tie, had wandered through from the lounge, where the plaster had been hacked off two walls and the old stone fireplace uncovered to await renovation, into the new kitchen. It had only been fitted a few weeks earlier and Janey had been so excited, even though
Joey had already been up to sort out a few of the wiring problems. It didn’t matter. It was hers. And Luke’s.

  He was looking through all the stuff she had stuck on the fridge door when Luke came in still carrying the black dress, a plastic bag and an electric blue tie. He put the dress over the back of a chair, dropped the plastic bag on the table and showed the tie to Joey.

  ‘This is the best one I’ve got.’

  ‘Here you go,’ Joey said, as he undid his own. ‘You should be in proper uniform. Nat bought this one for me, but I’ll text her and ask her to bring me my dark blue one.’

  ‘Not the sort of thing you think about normally, is it?’ Luke asked as he started to fasten the tie.

  ‘Don’t think anyone does,’ Joey replied as he picked up a framed picture that was standing on the worktop. It was of Luke and Janey against a deep blue sky. Happy. Smiling. And holding up two Buddha dolls. ‘Where was this taken?’

  ‘Thailand.’ Luke then grinned and pointed to the dolls. ‘Our smiling Buddhas. Their heads nodded if you tapped them. We carried one each. Mine reminded me of her and hers of me.

  ‘What?’ Joey asked, with a grin. ‘About when you grow old and become some fat get?’

  ‘If Buddha was smiling then so were we,’ Luke corrected. ‘Mine’s been all over with me. And she kept hers on the dashboard of her car so it would nod as she drove. That sound a bit corny?’

  Joey shook his head. ‘Sounds romantic, actually. But er… I won’t tell, if you don’t.’

  Luke just smiled as he touched the picture. ‘I’d like it back if they find the car. OK?’

  ‘Sure,’ Joey replied. ‘You all set, then?’

  ‘Er… Yeah. But er…’ Luke picked up both the dress and the plastic bag. ‘I … er… As we’re having a don’t ask, don’t tell moment, I er… had a moment upstairs. So –’ he picked up the plastic bag – ‘I’d like to go back to your place afterwards, get changed there and get off. And could you –’ he pointed to the dress. ‘Could you ask Nat to go through all Janey’s stuff and get rid. Give to charity if she likes but not to the family. OK? Clear out all the perfume and shampoos, etcetera so, er … So it doesn’t …’

  Joey could see he was about to choke, so stepped in. ‘Yeah, got it. No reminders when you get back?’

  Luke just nodded. He didn’t even want to try and say what was going through his mind. He didn’t want to have any visual reminders, including the personal and intimate scent of Janey. He would have his memories. That’s what he wanted to return to. To live with. Just memories. Not reminders.

  Luke turned and led the way out. Joey followed. He got it. But he wasn’t sure it would work. The kitchen would still be there.

  • 09.45 a.m. – Sean Nolan’s Hallway, Highbridge

  ‘I am your father’s sister, Sean.’ It was the dreaded Aunty Caitlin, dressed in a bright yellow puffer jacket against the cold, she had said, but now refusing to leave the house. ‘I should be in the car with him and I will not leave this house until you rearrange things.’

  ‘Uncle Geoffrey has got into the car, Aunty Cat. Please go and join him?’ Sean asked, almost begged, in his most pleading voice. It was like stroking a crustacean with a feather.

  ‘I know what this is about.’

  ‘It’s about numbers. How many we have to get to the church. Even Sandra’s mum and dad are going straight to the church to help out,’ Sean offered, pointing to his watch.

  ‘They are not family, Sean. But this is not about that. You know that.’

  ‘I don’t. I don’t. And I don’t care, actually. I just want you to get in the car.’

  But Aunty Cat was not to be diverted, or reasoned with. ‘It’s about that haughty taughty wife of your brother. I could see her smirking when Sandra asked – no told me I was relegated to the back car.’

  ‘No one’s relegating anyone it’s just––’

  Which was when Natasha came back into the house. ‘Anything wrong? We really need to get moving.’

  ‘Aunty Cat doesn’t want to go in the fourth car.’

  ‘It’s disrespectful,’ Aunt Cat commented. Glaring straight at Natasha.

  The glare came straight back. Then Natasha turned and took Sean’s arm and guided him to the door. ‘You go. Tell the first three cars to go. I’ll come in the fourth car, with or without her.’

  Sean look momentarily delighted as he seized the opportunity to escape. As soon as he had gone, Natasha turned back to her aunty-in-law. ‘I’ll tell you what is disrespectful. You. I know you’re Joey’s dad’s sister, but we’re burying his sister and your brother’s daughter. And you turn—’

  ‘I am not going to listen to a lecture from—’ She tried to brush past Natasha but found herself suddenly pulled back and spun round.

  ‘You will listen, for once in your life, you evil cow.’

  The blood seemed to drain from the bovine face, which was contorted in horror as Natasha let rip.

  ‘I know you have never liked me. Or Sandra. Or anyone that came into the family and challenged your dominance over Joey and Sean’s dad and his brother. We used to try and understand, even feel sorry for you at times, but you’re always stirring. Never making any effort. And today? You’ve really excelled yourself. Look at the state of you, for a start. So, guess what? I’m going out to get into that car. But you’re not. I don’t want you anywhere near me, my kids my husband or my in-laws. You can make your own way to the church.’

  With that Natasha left the now shaking Aunt Cat leaning against the wall and went out to the remaining funeral car, still shaking herself. And so preoccupied that she failed to notice two bikers on trial bikes slowly circling at the end of the road, then slowly follow the funeral car as it pulled away.

  • 10.00 a.m. – Church Service

  The Requiem Mass went off as expected. Some would say Janey was given a good send-off. Especially as Sean had made such an effort decorating the church. But then he would, wouldn’t he? others would say. Easy if you owned a garden centre. Joey’s mum was in bits, some said. Others that his dad was stoic. Must be hard. You never expect to bury your children, do you? They acknowledged Aunt Cat when she arrived late, but never spoke, leaving it to Natasha’s mother to upset her further by not remembering her name. But it wasn’t intentional, she was becoming more and more scatty these days. So they said.

  Sean got through the eulogy with only two choke points. When acknowledging how Janey was so full of life, never slow to make friends, and looked up to see two full benches of those friends, like some macabre form of school reunion. The other was when he glanced across at Sandra, tears streaming as she was trying to console his mother. Tears beget tears.

  He even managed to make the veiled threat to his younger brother, not to take things into his own hands, sound like he was following the theme of the young priest’s sermon about the mystery of why the Lord called some before others. He made sure he eyeballed Joey when he talked of the seemingly pointless nature of Janey’s death and how they couldn’t be consumed by not understanding or by wanting to seek vengeance. He didn’t labour it. As he couldn’t. He wanted justice himself. But violence begets violence. Sean wanted due process. A judge and jury. Not vigilante retaliation.

  The only tricky moment was when the young priest, another import from the Philippines to prop up the Catholic Church’s ailing recruitment policy, had to resort to a piece of paper to remind everyone what an unforgettable force for good Janey had been. This regrettable lapse might have passed, if it had not been in the introduction to the reading, which Joey was supposed to deliver. However, he just sat, head bowed and shaking slowly. Natasha immediately noticed he was clenching and unclenching his fists. Something she had seen before and had come to recognise. This was not grief but bubbling anger. Quickly she reached over and grabbed his nearer hand and squeezed, while at the same time Tanya reached over and took the piece of paper Joey had on the bench in front of him, stood up and walked to the altar lectern. She was definitely Joey’s daughter.
Only the spreadsheet compiler and his counsellor noticed.

  Throughout all this Luke sat. Quiet. Alone in the front pew. No family. Joey had asked if he wanted him, Natasha and the kids to sit with him, but Luke had said no. He didn’t want to be distracted by them blubbing, he replied. And so he sat, letting it wash over him but all the time holding the laughing Buddha, occasionally flicking its head to lose himself in his own memories of Janey. It was only when Tanya had finished the reading, about not being sad that a life had ended but smiling at its celebration, and sat down next to him instead of returning to the family that he looked up and smiled. But he couldn’t hold it as she leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder. The little girl he used to carry on his shoulders when she went shopping with her aunty. Only then did he allow himself to crack. Just for a moment.

  ‘Sorry about bottling the reading,’ Joey said, standing next to Luke as they watched the coffin being slid into the hearse, and Sean trying to shepherd everyone back to the cars they came in.

  ‘Couldn’t have done better than this one,’ Luke replied, then nodded at Tanya, now leaning on Joey, who had his arm round her shoulder.

  ‘Spoilt you rotten, your Aunty Janey, didn’t she?’ Joey said to Tanya as he kissed her head.

  Tanya nodded, then unwrapped herself from Joey as she heard Natasha call for her to get in the car. Joey waved to indicate that he was about to follow, but then noticed Luke staring intently at a couple of guys on trail bikes further down the road behind the lined-up funeral cars.

  ‘What’s up?’ Joey asked.

  ‘Dunno,’ Luke replied. ‘But they were there when we arrived.’

  Joey picked up the professional tone, and looked towards the bikers. They were just sitting. Watching.

  ‘C’mon. You’re back home now. They probably live round here and are just curious,’ Joey said as he guided Luke to the lead car.