by Faith Hogan
‘So eventually, when he died, he planned on being here?’
‘What I’m saying is,’ Grace took a deep breath, ‘Delilah, it’s a difficult and confusing time for all of us. I suppose the important thing to remember is that he loved you and that here…’ She took a deep breath. ‘This church and the cemetery, well, we can come here any time you want to visit.’
‘Thanks, Mum,’ Delilah said and she turned away, and Grace was relieved because she knew she couldn’t hold the tears back for much longer herself.
*
St. Mary’s was resplendent. Sunlight lanced through the stained windows, making them twinkle like jewels. Candles flickered with Evie’s ever-changing thoughts. Grace was responsible for most of this. Though she was Roman Catholic, she and Delilah had spent most of the previous day in the small church. Kasia made for a seat near the back, but Evie placed a hand on her arm.
‘Come with me. Paul wouldn’t have wanted you down here.’ The truth was that Evie needed someone to call her own, for just this short time and maybe, she suspected, Kasia did too. They made their way to the front pew and sat together in companionable silence while an organist played something soft from Debussy.
It was hard to believe that Paul lay in the heavy dark oak casket in front of the lectern from which Emma Lynott would speak. Evie remembered the times she’d been here with Paul at her side. Grace Kennedy and Delilah sat beside them. Evie could not help but study the child. She was an odd mixture of both her parents, nothing like what Evie would have imagined her own unborn child would look like. There was much of Paul in her, right down to the way she sat: a little to the side, her hands clasped gently on her knees. When Grace caught her watching the child, she smiled.
‘Delilah, this is Evie. Your father’s first wife.’ The girl held out a long tapered hand and greeted Evie with a nervous smile.
‘It’s nice to meet you properly. I was going to ask if I could come and see you, but…’ Delilah didn’t see Grace’s shocked expression. Evie had a feeling it was the first she’d heard of it.
‘It’s very nice to meet you, dear. I’ve heard a lot about you, too. Your father was very proud of you. You have much of your father in you, but,’ Evie said gently, ‘you have also been blessed with your mother’s beauty.’ The girl nodded shyly, and Grace smiled.
The organ stirred into something a little more lively, and for a moment Evie thought they were about to begin the opening hymn. Grace Kennedy checked her watch. Where was Annalise Connolly? They couldn’t very well start without her.
‘Should we ring her?’ The service was due to start in less than two minutes.
‘Maybe we’ll…’ Evie inspected the seat behind them left empty for family who may not arrive. ‘Maybe we should ask the Reverend to just hold off for another five minutes.’
‘I’ll send her a…’ Grace was about to finish her sentence when one of the heavy doors crashed closed behind them. ‘She’s here,’ she breathed out.
Annalise Connolly click-clacked her way to the top of the little church. Her high heels echoed about the walls like a countdown to the ceremony, flanked by her two boys. She pushed in outside Grace Kennedy and mouthed her apologies across to Evie as she ushered her sons into the seat beside her. In the pew behind them, Annalise’s family ensconced themselves in a much more sedate fashion. Evie acknowledged them with a nod and caught the eye of a woman about her own age, Madeline Connolly. She was well made up, but more refined than Annalise. Annalise, had more of her limbs on display than you would see on the local beach at this time of year. Her posture was ramrod, but her movements gave her a delicacy that almost made you forget she carried herself to give the best effect of her beauty queen figure. At her feet, she deposited a bright red handbag. Evie gave a slight gasp. Try not to judge, she told herself.
There was no eulogy, although a colleague of Paul’s offered to say a few words if they wanted. Then he ogled the line of wives and baulked. Maybe he hadn’t known Paul as well as he thought he did.
In the end, it hadn’t mattered. Apart from the occasional sniffle from Annalise Connolly, the ceremony had been exactly what Paul would have wanted. Dignified, private and genuine. For most of it, Evie kept her eyes on his casket. If she regretted letting him go, when she considered Delilah and the two small boys at the end of the pew, she realized that another part of her was glad he’d experienced fatherhood.
She followed Paul’s casket down the centre aisle of the church, linking Kasia closely beside her. They trailed the pallbearers across the tiny path into the yew-shaded graveyard that huddled close to the church. Grace and Delilah walked behind them, Annalise Connolly and her little boys next. Evie could hear rather than see, in the distance, the soft whirr of lenses on Paul’s third wife. She squinted across the small churchyard and there, just beyond the black-painted railings, were half a dozen photographers, snapping away each moment of their small funeral procession. Annalise stood, sunglasses in place, holding on to her little boys, trying hard not to pose but remaining as self-consciously picture-perfect as she could. Evie felt a little sorry for the girl – knew, without Paul having said anything, that their relationship had been a disappointment to him.
By the time they were all at the grave, Kasia was almost trembling. ‘Are you all right?’ Evie whispered.
The look of fear that haunted Kasia’s face almost made Evie flinch. The girl was scared stiff. ‘After I’ve said goodbye to Paul, I will have to go. It is…’
‘He would want you to stay,’ Evie said, although she had no real idea what Paul had wanted from this girl. She was the one mystery in his life as far as Evie was concerned. She tried to convince herself that they’d been nothing more than friends – but the baby? The baby changed everything, didn’t it?
‘It’s not safe for me.’ A wisp of an emotion crossed Kasia’s face. ‘In the church, I saw someone and it is best if I go…’
‘Nobody can touch you here,’ Evie whispered. ‘Stay with me until we get through this and then we’ll see about what to do.’ Evie scanned the crowd quickly, but all she could see were familiar faces, and with her arm linked through Kasia’s, that made her feel a little better.
*
Kasia spotted Vasile as soon as she entered the little church. He was sitting halfway up the centre aisle. His thick head and neck carried a small gleam of sweat, the leather jacket too warm beneath the sun that streamed in from the stained window nearby.
It took her a few minutes to work out how he might have tracked her down today. Through the hospital, of course. They would have told him about the funeral. She had to take time off for it; from there it would have been easy. Then Evie took her arm, out of kindness, out of camaraderie. Perhaps Evie needed her today? She had a feeling she’d never ask for help, but Paul had meant so much to Kasia. It was good to pay it back. She liked Evie. There was more to her than just her big house and her pots of money. Kasia had seen that same emptiness that she knew so well herself.
Across the graveyard, a man started to play a melancholy tune on a mouth organ. ‘A patient of Paul’s,’ Evie whispered, ‘making his own farewell.’
‘Come, it is time to go home.’ Vasile was at her elbow as soon as Emma said the final words. She had been expecting him to come back. She always knew it would not be easy to get away from him. As soon as he was thrown over, she knew he would turn up. He didn’t love her; how could he when he’d treated her so badly?
‘Hello.’ Grace Kennedy stepped between them; Delilah looked on shyly. Grace extended a hand in Vasile’s direction and threw him off balance. He automatically shook hands and offered his sympathies. Kasia knew he would be no sorrier than if he had been to the funeral of a dog run over in the road. ‘You’re Vasile, right?’ She tilted her head a little, making her seem genuinely curious.
‘Yes. I am Vasile.’ He puffed out his chest; he obviously believed she would only have heard what a great man he was. ‘And I have come to bring Kasia home.’
‘But I don’t thin
k she wants to go home, do you, Kasia?’ Grace asked Kasia, her intelligent eyes a mixture of kindness and playfulness. In that moment, Kasia thought Grace was the bravest person she knew and had a feeling that if she was on your side, you could do anything. ‘No. Kasia won’t be going home with you Vasile. She has to live her own life now. You have a girlfriend, a very beautiful girlfriend, from what I hear. Isn’t that right?’
‘No. I have no girlfriend. We are finished.’ He stared dolefully across at Kasia, as though she was a prize he was about to lose, slipping beyond his grasp in these affluent surroundings. ‘Kasia and I, we are meant to be together. Tell her, Kasia, you will come with me.’ He stood back, appraised Kasia in a single glance. It felt to her as if he was seeing her for the first time, with new eyes. She held her stomach in tightly, tried to hide the small round bump so it did not show through the soft fabric of the clothes Grace had given her. She would breathe a sigh of relief later but for now, she was too scared to think.
‘Oh, and who is this?’ Evie asked, as though on cue.
‘I am Vasile, I am here for Kasia,’ he said lower than before; his voice had lost some of its usual assurance. Kasia thought she could almost see him shrinking before her eyes. He was out of his depth and he knew very well that here, his rough manner would get him nowhere.
‘Kasia?’ Evie’s expression filled with concern. ‘Kasia?’ Evie was still looking at her, but Kasia could not speak. The truth was, she was too afraid to speak.
‘I think Kasia needs some time, don’t you, Evie?’ Grace placed an arm at Kasia’s back to get her away from Vasile.
‘She will have plenty of time when she comes back to the flat with me.’ Vasile moved forward, a truculent child not getting his own way. He reached out to take her hand, managed to grab her forearm instead. Kasia gasped, only just stifled a scream of surprise, but this was Paul’s funeral and she would not have Vasile make a scene.
‘No.’ Grace stood in front of her. The movement took Vasile by surprise so he dropped his grip on Kasia. ‘She will not be going anywhere with you, not today or any other day. This is a private gathering. I think it would be best if you left.’ People were beginning to take notice; a hushed silence fell on the already muffled voices. Across the graveyard, the man who had closed his eyes while playing the mouth organ had stopped. He was moving closer to the group. Vasile was outnumbered but still, Kasia could not find the words she needed to tell him that they were finished. She was no longer his, and she would not be coming back.
‘Vasile,’ Grace said in a low voice, ‘I think it’s time you left.’
‘Bitch.’ Vasile spat the word at Grace before backing away from the group. As he moved nearer the gate, Kasia felt herself begin to tremble. She could hear him cursing each of them in Romanian, shouting; ‘This is not over, Kasia. I will come back for you.’ He made his way through the gates, where a photographer snapped wildly until Vasile grabbed the man’s camera and flung it into the road.
‘Thank you,’ Kasia looked at Grace and Evie, ‘both of you. You are so much braver than I could ever be.’
‘It’s easy to feel brave with someone else’s monsters, Kasia. Believe me, we all have our own. We’re not half as courageous with those,’ Grace said, and Evie nodded.
‘Yes. I suppose you are right.’ Kasia wasn’t entirely sure what Grace meant, but Evie seemed to understand.
‘So, this Vasile…’ Evie trailed off, looking at Kasia.
‘He’s from my past.’ Kasia said the words softly; here, with these two women, her secret was safe. ‘He is not part of my future and he is not having anything to do with my baby.’
‘Is he…’ For a moment, Grace closed her eyes. There was an unspoken question between them, but Kasia was afraid to answer it now.
‘I should go.’
‘No. You should stay.’ Evie’s voice was firm. ‘What if he’s back at your flat waiting for you?’
‘Evie’s right. Stay for a bit. And later I’ll bring you home, check out the flat,’ Grace said and Kasia knew she would feel safer going back to the flat with Grace than alone.
‘I need to leave, leave this city. If he finds out…’
‘What can he find out? What does he know?’ Evie flicked a hand, as though dismissing some irrelevant piece of information, as if Vasile was no more important than a pest to be brushed away. Kasia could see in the gesture that everything about her sophistication would have left Vasile at a complete disadvantage. ‘All he sees is that you’re at the funeral of a friend today – someone you worked with. Someone you’ve known for a long time, someone you cared for.’ She smiled. ‘Look at Paul. Most people thought we were still married, even in the last few days. The fact that he’d moved on, what, a decade and a half ago?’ She glanced at Grace, who nodded. ‘It came as news to a lot of them.’
‘She’s right. You’re probably safer here than anywhere else on the planet for the next few hours. Then tomorrow, you need to start house-hunting.’
‘Maybe,’ Kasia was still shaking. ‘Thank you.’ She tried to work her mouth into a smile, ‘I feel as if Paul is still looking after me.’
‘He’s looking after all of us,’ Evie said and she wiped a tear from her eye.
*
Dylan and Jerome were being so naughty. Annalise never remembered them being anywhere near the handful they were before she even got breakfast into them. It started with them having a water fight in the kitchen. Within four minutes, the whole place looked as if the Liffey had burst its banks and all pooled onto her lovely marble tiles. Annalise had to dry it all up; to leave it was only inviting disaster, this much she knew for sure. Then Jerome decided he didn’t want to wear the suit Madeline had picked out for him. He stood stubbornly with his fists balled, his tongue lodged truculently in his cheek; Annalise couldn’t bear it, he was so much like Paul. ‘Not warwing it,’ he said over and over until Annalise thought he was beginning to sound a little hoarse. No fear of Dylan getting hoarse, he roared as loud as a lion the whole way to the church because they forgot to bring his Buzz Lightyear, whose controls somehow jammed on, ‘To infinity and beyond.’ There was no way; even Annalise was not that soft.
‘It was as though they knew,’ she whispered to Madeline when they met at the church. ‘I swear, never again.’ And then Annalise thought she might sob her heart out, because of course, with all of the rush, she never had time to think about all of this and what they were actually doing today.
‘You need to process it all darling; it’s only natural.’ Madeline soothed and grabbed Jerome’s hand as they walked towards the front of the church. Annalise could hear her own heels echo around the walls while music played softly in the background, but all she could think of was that they sounded like nails in Paul’s coffin. Several times during the ceremony, she caught Evie’s eyes. God, she was stone cold. There wasn’t a hint of emotion; not a tear or a frown, except when Dylan scarpered across the pew and grabbed her hat while they stood for a hymn. To be fair, he’d been so quiet, even Annalise didn’t notice until she heard Madeline gasp behind her.
She tried to be dignified, she really did. She worked hard to be composed as they left the church, but this was Paul – this was her husband, and even if no one else wanted to face it, they were saying goodbye to him today. Forever. Annalise had never been to the funeral of anyone close to her before and suddenly it hit her – she didn’t want to bury him here. She didn’t want to bury him anywhere. The thought of her lovely Paul in a box in the ground, well, it wasn’t right. It just wasn’t right. And then, as though she had time travelled through the whole ceremony, they were emerging from the church, sunlight in her eyes and the children already feeling warm and sticky and squirming out of her reach. In the distance, she saw one of the photographers who used to work in fashion before half the Dublin scene was made redundant. He was obviously freelancing now, hoping to pick up whatever he could. She imagined the whirr of the lens in the distance and suddenly she felt her poise gather about her like a protecti
ve cloak. She held on to Dylan and Jerome just a little tighter, and miraculously it seemed as if they knew; it was time to be serious. They stood over the open grave and Annalise noticed, as though it was somehow unconnected with her, the smell of dry soil, the occasional jutting stones on the brown walls and the grey headstone beside her. She didn’t read the names on it, knew that soon enough Paul’s name would be added to it. She thought of Jackie Kennedy and somehow she managed to stay self-possessed, and she wondered if perhaps she should have worn a hat for this one occasion. But of course, it was too late to think about that now, too late to think about a lot of things now.
10
Evie Considine
‘Let’s go back to Carlinville,’ Evie said more brightly than she felt, more for Kasia’s benefit than her own. The men who had come to fill in Paul’s grave were ready to begin. They could come back when it was all done. ‘I haven’t organized anything, didn’t get anything in; I never thought…’
‘It says enough that you’ve asked,’ Grace said at her side, ‘and anyway, we can order in something to eat, maybe have a cup of tea. I think it would be a good thing to do.’ They were unlikely allies in a time of mutual distress, but they both put Paul first – in life and in death. They’d organized his funeral with no thought to what might happen once the damp clay had coldly covered his coffin. Truthfully, Evie couldn’t imagine what they would do, but somehow Vasile had forced them to stand together in a kind of brief solidarity that she’d never have believed possible before.
Carlinville sat in the afternoon sun, a handsome, if shabby sanctuary, welcoming them warmly after the long day. Even Annalise arrived with her parents and the boys, although Evie suspected that was down to her mother more than any desire of Annalise’s to spend more time with them. Grace, true to her word, organized sandwiches to arrive almost before the kettle had boiled for tea. They were an improbable group, their only common ground a minefield of loss and sadness. In time, maybe, if things were different, they might look forward to sharing happy memories of the one person who linked them together.