by Sharon Owens
‘Jasmine?’ she called out in a worried voice. ‘Are you still here? Is it snowing?’
‘Yes, it’s snowing and don’t worry, love, I’m still here,’ Jasmine said immediately from the bottom of the stairs. ‘You’re awake then? I’ll be right up with some food for you.’
A few moments later Jasmine knocked on Ruby’s bedroom door and came in with a high-sided tray. On it was a plate of dinner covered with tin foil, as well as two strong painkillers and a pot of tea.
‘I found the empty brandy bottle lying under the coffee table,’ Jasmine said grimly, setting the tray on the edge of Ruby’s bed. ‘Thank God it was only a small bottle or you might not have lived to tell the tale… Sorry… Your head must be opening.’
‘Yes, well, I do feel as if I’ve been hit with a hammer, but that brandy did the trick.’ Ruby grimaced. ‘I’d never have slept otherwise.’
‘Fair enough. Eat up now. You had no supper last night. Or anything else all day today. I don’t want you keeling over on me. Come on, sit up.’
‘W-where did this lovely food come from?’ Ruby stuttered as Jasmine whipped off the tin foil to expose a magnificent roast dinner that Nigella Lawson would have been proud of.
‘Mum and Dad were here earlier,’ Jasmine said shyly. ‘I hope you don’t mind?’
‘Of course not.’
‘They brought us over some goose and a few mince pies and so on. I’ve just heated your dinner up in the oven. I was going to wake you now anyway.’
‘Thanks, Jasmine.’
‘And Mum and Dad said to say how sorry they were to hear the sad news. They left some boxes of teabags and biscuits and a couple of trays of sandwiches as well, bless them. They just assumed there’d be a wake.’
‘Me being a Catholic and all?’ Ruby smiled weakly.
‘Yes. They were almost afraid to come into the house in case they interrupted the rosary or tripped over a priest or something.’
‘Or got fatally splashed by holy water?’ Ruby smiled. ‘I hope you offered them a cup of tea?’
‘I did, of course. Coffee, to be precise. Mum couldn’t say no to a peek at your kitchen, once she knew there was nobody else here. She said to say your house is just lovely.’
‘Did she? The wee dote! I must phone her later to thank her for this lovely food. Remind me, won’t you?’ Ruby reached for the knife and fork. She was almost frightened by the throbbing hangover she could feel gathering behind the bones in her forehead. ‘Is the snow very deep?’
‘Yes, a record for Belfast, they said on the news. Eight or nine inches in some areas! It’s supposed to snow all night tonight as well. Good job the funeral parlour is only two minutes up the road, I suppose.’
‘Yes, I suppose. Did they get in touch?’
‘Yes, they rang this morning. And this afternoon too. They said they would call back later on tonight though. Just to confirm flowers and music and so on. I reminded them to have only white flowers on the casket.’
‘And there was no problem with the date?’
‘No. A church service and a burial would have been much more difficult to arrange at Christmas time, they said. But a simple cremation service is fine.’
‘Okay. Thanks. I’m so glad Jonathan mentioned cremation to me that time, Jasmine. I couldn’t bear to stand in a cemetery in the snow. With the wind cutting through us all like a knife. There’s nothing sadder than a funeral in the snow.’
Ruby closed her eyes and, dropping the knife and fork, pressed her hands over her mouth. She must not cry like a banshee now. Not with the hangover from hell pressing at her skull! Her exhausted brain would simply implode with the added pressure.
‘I found this engagement ring,’ she said, showing her hand to Jasmine.
‘I noticed it earlier. It’s beautiful.’
‘It’s from Jonathan.’
‘Yes, I guessed that much! Here, will you please try to eat a bite of this dinner before it gets cold,’ Jasmine said gently. ‘I daren’t risk keeping it warm for much longer. You might get food poisoning or something. Roast goose isn’t exactly what I’d usually recommend after a night on the drink. But you do need to keep your strength up so have a little bit, yeah?’
‘Your mum’s a terrific cook,’ Ruby said, trying a small forkful. ‘This is delicious.’ She didn’t like to tell Jasmine that the very thought of rich food made her feel ill.
‘Good girl. Now, a few of Jonathan’s friends have been on the phone. They saw his car on the news and put two and two together. I said I would let them know about the funeral arrangements later on today. And Theodora was here earlier leaving flowers for you. Bless her soul. She walked all the way up Ravenhill Road in her little furry boots. She wants to come to the funeral, of course.’
‘Yes, the funeral. Oh, Jasmine, is this really happening? For a split second when I woke up there I thought it’d all been a bad dream.’
‘It’ll be all right,’ Jasmine said quietly. ‘I’ll not leave your side for a single second, I promise. And don’t worry about inviting anyone to a hotel for dinner afterwards. There won’t be anywhere available at such short notice I’d say, in any case.’
‘Well, I might ask a few people back here for tea and cakes maybe. I’ll see how I feel. Did my parents phone?’
‘They did, yes, at ten o’clock this morning. And just a few minutes ago too. They didn’t seem to know what had happened when they called the first time. They said they’d been out gathering firewood and so on. And they hadn’t heard the news.’
‘Gathering firewood? That’s a new one. I thought they had a gas fire in their kitchen. Anyway they never listen to the news much or bother with any newspapers really. I expect they were embarrassed that they hadn’t heard.’
‘Oh, okay. So I told them. Was that all right?’
‘Yes, thank you, Jasmine. Thanks for everything. When will they get here? It’ll be a three-hour drive in this weather, I fear.’
‘Ruby, the thing is… they’re not coming. They said they’d been snowed in.’
‘What? They’re not coming at all?’
‘No. I’m sorry. That’s why they rang back. The village is completely cut off, they said. The heaviest snow in living memory. The roads are much worse in the west of the country. No one can get in or out of Muldoon village even with a tractor. And it’s dark now. They’ve decided not to risk it.’
‘What about the funeral though? It’s tomorrow morning, for heaven’s sake,’ Ruby fretted. ‘Should I ask for it to be delayed? Oh God, this damn bloody snow! I don’t want to delay it all now, Jasmine, in case I go crazy or something.’
‘I don’t know, love. Maybe the snow will be cleared off the main roads by tomorrow morning.’
‘Maybe. But I doubt it.’ Ruby’s eyes filled up with fresh tears. ‘I might have known something like this would happen. They always manage to find some excuse not to visit me, Jasmine. It must be two years since they’ve been in this house. I can’t believe it.’
‘Shush, now. They can’t help being snowed in, Ruby. Will you take another tablet, please? Just the one, yeah? I think you should.’
‘I haven’t got any tablets.’
‘The nurse dropped some off this morning. So just pop one in, okay? And then we’ll not mention the tablets again.’
‘Okay,’ Ruby agreed. ‘Just the one. Thanks for staying the night, by the way. I really appreciate it.’
‘Don’t mention it.’ Jasmine slipped the tablets out of her pocket and placed one into Ruby’s hand. ‘There you go, get that down you.’
‘God help me, I’m a walking disaster area.’
‘You’re doing fine.’
‘I’m hopeless.’
‘You’re not.’
Ruby ate a few more mouthfuls of lunch and then she laid the fork down and made an apologetic face at her friend.
‘I’m sorry for crying all the time, Jasmine. My head’s just clean away with all this. It’s mental. We were going to start trying for a baby, you know? This
very Christmas! And then I was so worried about Jonathan when he wasn’t home early on Christmas Eve.’ Ruby closed her eyes again and tried to pretend she was somewhere else or someone else. Jasmine just patted her hand uselessly. There was nothing left to say. After a few minutes Ruby drank tea while Jasmine sat beside her in a companionable silence.
‘Come on then, love. Up you get, if you’re finished eating,’ Jasmine said eventually.
‘Get up? What for?’
‘To freshen up. I’ll run you a nice hot bath, yeah? For I’m sure you haven’t enough energy to stand up in the shower.’
‘Do you know, I probably haven’t. You’re an angel, Jasmine Mulholland. An absolute angel! Thank you from the bottom of my heart.’
‘You’re welcome, Ruby. Sure I know you’d do the same for me.’
5. The Funeral
The following morning, the two friends put on their sombre funeral coats and hats and ventured out into the sparkling white snow scene that Ravenhill Road had become. A fresh blanket of snow covered everything in sight. The terraced Victorian and Edwardian houses were transformed into giant iced cakes. The cars parked along the edges of the street were huge snowballs on wheels. The garden railings had become delicate cobwebs that sparkled in the weak morning sunshine and even the bare branches of the trees were heavy with great clumps of blue-white snow. Most of all it was exceptionally quiet.
‘I think most people have decided to take the day off work,’ Ruby said in a half-whisper, threading her arm through Jasmine’s for moral support.
‘It’s Saturday, Ruby,’ Jasmine said gravely. ‘You’ve lost track of the days.’
‘Yes, I think I have,’ Ruby replied, feeling slightly embarrassed. ‘That’s what happens to people when they start swallowing happy pills, I daresay. Next thing, I won’t know the name of the current prime minister.’
‘Shush now, you’re doing fine,’ Jasmine soothed. ‘It’s an easy mistake to make. There’s always less traffic on Ravenhill than on Ormeau Road anyway. And you’ve only had two pills so far. It’s not like you’ll be on them forever.’
‘No, not forever,’ Ruby sighed, squeezing Jasmine’s hand softly.
They crunched up the street together, leaving two meandering trails of footprints behind them. Surprisingly there were lots of cars in the car park of the funeral home.
‘Looks like a big enough crowd,’ Ruby murmured nervously.
‘It’d take more than a bit of snow to keep the locals at home. Jonathan was very well liked,’ Jasmine chipped in at once. ‘I’ll be stuck to your side like glue all day, don’t you worry.’
‘You’re a good and dear friend,’ Ruby told her.
In the glass entrance porch there were two magnificent displays of white hothouse roses with trailing fronds of ivy, ferns and other greenery. Even in the chilly morning air, the heady scent of the roses filled Ruby’s heart and she could almost hear Jonathan’s voice calling to her: I love you.
‘I carried a posy of white roses on my wedding day,’ Ruby said flatly. ‘I thought we would be together for a hundred years.’
‘Oh, Ruby, I know, and it’s all so unfair.’
‘Jasmine, God help me, I don’t think I can go in there,’ Ruby said, glancing through a glass panel in the inner doors at the packed benches and the forest of white flowers within, and sensing the air of finality that these things meant. ‘I’m afraid I might make a complete fool of myself… Jesus, no, I can’t do it. I’m going home. God! Where did you put the rest of those tablets? I need one quick.’
‘Come on now, sweetheart, you’ll be fine.’
‘I won’t!’
‘You will. It’s time to do this one last thing for Jonathan,’ Jasmine urged her. ‘You know how you said he liked funerals to be relatively dignified…’
‘Yes, he did say that, didn’t he? Okay then. But stay beside me, promise!’
‘I will. I promise.’
Clutching one another tightly they pulled open the heavy wooden doors to the main room and despite the heat emanating from within they continued to shiver as they took their seats in the front row. Ruby almost collapsed when the brief ceremony began but she managed to make her mind switch off somehow. And she gazed instead at the beautiful wreaths sent by herself, by Miss Theodora Kelly, by Jonathan’s many friends in the accounting business and, of course, by dear Jasmine and her family. Ruby couldn’t spot a wreath from her own parents amid the sea of blooms but she was sure there was one up there somewhere. The music began and Ruby squeezed Jasmine’s hand tightly for moral support and then simply closed her eyes and tried to breathe normally.
She just let her thoughts wander back to the days when she and Jonathan had met at a bus stop outside Queen’s Union. She remembered the draughty bedsits they had shared, the candles dripping wax down the sides of cheap wine bottles, the chips-and-lager suppers. She thought about the day he’d proposed to her, buying the small engagement ring with his first decent pay packet. Their perfect wedding day in the Scottish highlands: they’d decided to elope to Scotland rather than force Ruby’s devout parents to witness a ‘mixed’ marriage. Then their idyllic honeymoon in the cosiest cottage in the world, the luxury of a bath that was big enough for two. And buying their large but rather dilapidated house on Ravenhill Road and fixing it up together, planning for the future, kissing by the garden gate…
Ruby sobbed quietly at the end and shook hands with the other mourners. She thanked the undertakers and she admired the flowers and she did discover a small wreath containing long white trumpet lilies that had been sent by her parents. Ruby read the message on the card – With deepest sympathy, From Mr and Mrs Nightingale – and was grateful for that much, at least. And then she and Jasmine were outside again in the snow and it was over. As they walked back to Ruby’s house with the other mourners, they didn’t notice a reporter from the local paper taking their picture.
On the night of her husband’s funeral service Ruby could not sleep. Lots of people had come back to the house for tea, drinks and sandwiches, and Jasmine’s mother had arranged it all and served the food beautifully. Ruby marvelled again at the kindness of this woman she had never met before. And tried not to be angry with her own parents for being snowed in at Muldoon village. It wasn’t their fault that the country was seeing the heaviest snowfalls for decades, but they were an anti-social pair of old relics when all was said and done and they could have made the effort for their son-in-law’s funeral. No doubt Jasmine’s parents would have made it; perhaps some families were just more determined than others to keep in touch, Ruby fretted. She should have phoned them back, she supposed, but she was too cross with them today. She’d do it tomorrow.
Ruby tried hard to sleep, but sleep would not come. She didn’t want to take yet another tablet and she was afraid to open another bottle of brandy. She lay stiffly on her own side of the bed until she thought she would scream with frustration and grief. In the end she decided to get up and do something useful to pass the time until morning. So she quietly tidied and dusted the kitchen until it shone, and sorted out the recycling into plastic crates in the small laundry room at the back of the house. At two o’clock in the morning she sat beside the Christmas tree in the sitting room, leafing through old photo albums, crying softly and pressing her cheek to Jonathan’s wedding photo. At three o’clock she made herself a mug of hot chocolate and curled up on the sofa with a soft throw over her legs, sipping her drink slowly to make it last longer. Meanwhile Jasmine was fast asleep in the main guestroom having insisted on staying with Ruby for another couple of nights.
Ruby brought her friend a piping hot cup of tea at half past four, hoping to find her awake so they could have a good long chat. But Jasmine was sleeping soundly, the duvet pulled right up to her eyelids. Ruby smiled and left the room again as quietly as she could. It was so lovely of her to give up all her parties and the chance to bump into someone special under the mistletoe. Ruby didn’t know how she would have managed without her over the last couple
of days. She didn’t think of the years ahead, though. The years ahead were simply too frightening even to contemplate.
A couple of days later at Camberwell House, Tom Lavery sat for a long time in his potting shed staring numbly at Ruby’s picture in the Belfast Telegraph. The photographer had taken her picture as she came walking out of the funeral home arm in arm with her friend Jasmine Mulholland. Ruby’s face looked frozen, as if all the life had been drained out of her.
There was a picture of Jonathan too, taken on his wedding day seven years before. He was a very handsome man. Tom had to admit that. Clean cut and intelligent-looking with a nice suit on him and a kind yet mischievous smile. The article said that the lorry driver had been banned from driving until the case went to court, but that it was unlikely he would be found guilty of causing death by dangerous driving. A lack of evidence apparently. A single eyewitness was not usually enough to secure a conviction.
The Telegraph had quoted the widow as saying that the service was ‘very thoughtful and beautiful’. No doubt the reporter would have been disappointed with that, hoping for some ranting against the other driver.
‘Poor, poor woman,’ Tom said sadly, and beside him Noah pricked up his ears and looked sympathetic. ‘Ruby O’Neill’s a widow, Noah boy. She’s on her own now too. I wouldn’t wish on anyone what she’s about to go through. Not on my worst enemy.’
Slowly he folded up the newspaper and slipped it into a drawer in his ancient old filing cabinet. Then, worried that somebody would find it there and think he was stalking Ruby O’Neill, he took it out again and laid it gently on top of the recycling pile by the door.
‘Come on, you,’ he said to the dog then, pulling himself out of his comfy armchair near the small gas stove. ‘Not much to do today. Let’s go out for a walk, yeah?’ Noah leapt up and went to the door eagerly. Tom slipped a warm coat on and they went outside together. ‘Just a quick stroll,’ Tom added, more to convince himself that he wasn’t being cruel to Noah, to take him out walking in eight inches of snow. But he needn’t have worried. Noah took one look at the depth of the snow and immediately trotted back inside. He lay down in his warm and blanket-lined basket near the heater and refused to get up again.