Beauty's Story

by Rita Edah

  CHAPTER 14

  July 2006. Beauty’s Funeral

  Ashleigh (aged 16)

  It was so good to ride with Josh back home after Uncle Theo’s party. After all that he put me through at St Katherine’s High, I didn’t think I’d miss him that much when he left school. But not only had he left school, he’d left home. And it looks like going to college at Hull had done him a lot of good.

  He was always good with his hands so I wasn’t surprised when he told me he is getting jobs already although he had yet to complete his Domestic Engineering qualification. The only thing we argued over was his hair.

  “When did you decide to go afro?”

  “I didn’t,” he smiled. He is still irritating in giving me incomplete incomprehensible answers.

  “Excuse me, what have you got on your head?”

  “A head of hair.”

  “It’s not low cut?”

  “No.”

  “It’s not plaits?”

  “No.”

  “What is it then?”

  “Just hair. Big hairdo.” I could see the twinkle in his eyes when he glanced at me.

  “But for the fact that you are trying to park this car in this tiny space, I’d have pulled your hair to find out for myself if it was indeed a head of hair.”

  As my curiosity was yet to be satisfied, I picked the subject up again after we had made ourselves drinks to wind down for the night.

  “What’s the story with the plaits anyway – and please, no more teasing.”

  “I still wear them. I believe they are an important part of my identity. So far they have neither interfered with my coursework nor jobs, so I’m good.”

  “But why are you out of them tonight?”

  “It’s Uncle Theo’s birthday do, I know how he’s like with stuff like that so I just wanted to chill out on that count.”

  “Now that was so thoughtful. I probably would have done the same, but only because I’m a little bit scared of him.”

  “Yeah, Uncle Theo can be scary sometimes, but he’s good, I really admire him.”

  “I’m surprised to hear that. I thought you didn’t care much for him?”

  “I didn’t. But looking back, I think he was gutsy to have taken the unpopular step of ensuring I was held accountable for my actions, even if it meant being in a cell for one night. And it’s since then that I began to consider an alternative route to the journey of my life. What I saw… never mind.”

  “Go on Josh, you can tell me.”

  I saw the faint shadow flit across his face, which seemed to harden just a tiny bit, and then softened almost as quickly. Somehow that reminded me of Mum.

  “That will be a story for another day.”

  So we just hung out, flicking through TV channels and talking about old friends. We were in the middle of a bellyful of laughter when Mum walked in, looking completely freaked.

  “Hey, I didn’t realise you’d both still be awake.”

  “You know us,” Josh said, “we like to burn the midnight oil. What’s the matter anyway? You look like you ran into The Thriller.”

  When she said nothing and went into the kitchen, I thought she was just tired and not in the mood for Josh’s jokes. But she came back with a glass of something that was neither water nor fruit juice. As I didn’t see where she poured it from I couldn’t tell what exactly it was. It smelt potent. I was surprised she still had that kind of stuff stashed somewhere in the house. Anyway, she came back, sat at the dining table, looking at the stuff in her glass, and said, “I may actually have been in an episode of The Thriller.”

  “Mum, what happened?” I queried.

  “Did somebody harass you?” Josh asked.

  “There is something that I got off my chest today. Keeping it in all these years has nearly killed me with guilt. I don’t know that I’ve done the right thing in letting it out. But now that I’ve started, I might as well go through with it.”

  My throat went so dry I couldn’t say anything. I saw Josh open his mouth and close it again, anxiety written all over his face. Mum was silent like forever. When she spoke, her voice was like a combination of a tired old lady’s and a frightened little girl’s.

  “I did something terrible many years ago. And for that I am sorry.”

  Me, I was still speechless with fear. This cannot be good. Josh finally spoke up, “Mum, if you want to tell us, do so; if not, then please just leave it. This suspense is unhealthy.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.”

  “And what is it you are sorry about?” I could hear the agitation in Josh’s voice and now I was afraid of a confrontation between them.

  “I lied by omission. And it has severe consequences.” She was wringing her hands, and twisting in her seat. This couldn’t be Mum. What could she have done?

  “Josh, you know the truth about your dad, Nick.”

  “Yes, and what about him?”

  “Nothing new, that was by way of introduction. Ash, Nick isn’t your dad.”

  “Okay. I don’t even know the guy and it doesn’t really matter who is as whoever it was didn’t bother to stick around, so big deal,” I shrugged.

  “Maybe if I’d told him I was expecting you, he may have decided differently.”

  “Do I really need to know all of this tonight? I’ve been fine all these years without a dad even though I thought Nick was him, but now he isn’t. Okay, now I know why I’m severely messed up. Can we get on with it now? I have school tomorrow, remember?”

  “I’m sorry, Ash, my baby. The truth is out, and it’s best you hear the whole of it from me.”

  “If that will help you sleep well tonight, then out with it. If Nick isn’t my dad, who is?”

  “Theo.”

  It came out so quietly I was sure I’d misheard. “Sorry, who?”

  “Theo.” She was louder this time. “Your Uncle Theo is actually your dad.”

  “Do you know how messed up this sounds?”

  “I do, and I am very sorry.”

  I began to feel a coldness travel through my whole body. And then a choking sensation, clammy hands, dry mouth. I knew it would turn out bad if I remained in the same room as my mum for much longer. Yet I couldn’t say a word. Josh, bless him, took me by the hand and said, “We’re going for a drive.”

  We drove around in silence for a while. I really couldn’t speak. I answered Josh’s questions with nodding, headshaking and monosyllables. But he got the message that going back home wasn’t an option… so we ended up at Aunty Daisy and Uncle Rob’s.

  This was where we were when later the next day we received news about Aunty Beauty. How am I supposed to live with the truth that the man I thought was my dad wasn’t and that my real dad is the uncle I feared who was married to the aunt I loved who was now dead? How am I supposed to live with the fact that my mum is a liar and that she might have something to do with Aunty Beauty’s death, in which case she’s a murderer also?

  The funeral was delayed because the police wanted to keep the body for a while to do some more tests. As I am a kid and not direct next of kin, the officials don’t tell me anything. And of course the adults in my life don’t want to tell me anything so that they can keep lying to me. Josh is right. Taking a year out before I take my A levels and travelling the world will probably benefit me at this point in time. The earlier I get that waitressing job, the quicker I can get some experience under my belt.

  Anyway, here we are at Aunty Beauty’s funeral. Sometimes I think I see her out of the corner of my eye, she looks much more beautiful than when she was here with us. I wasn’t going to come for the funeral. I couldn’t bear the thought of being in the same room with my mother (who has to be here as she was her sister) and Uncle Theo (who has to be here as he was her husband). These were her next of kin. And they betrayed her. How long has this been going on, I wonder? And she died the night the truth came out? How very convenient.

  In the run-up to today when I think I see her, often she looked li
ke she was pleading. From when I decided I would attend her funeral purely to say my goodbyes, whenever I felt her, it was as though she were smiling. I don’t believe in ghosts or anything but I’ve found it strangely comforting.

  So, here we are at St Katherine’s Church. Where I was christened. I think Aunty Beauty is here now, even as she was then. It’s getting to Josh’s and my turn in the Order of Service. I know what I want to say. But there are so many people out there, like proper adults, not children in a school assembly. And this is my Aunty Beauty’s funeral service, I cannot afford to mess it up for her. If that thought were a painting, I’d have said the ink wasn’t yet dry on it when I see Aunty Beauty’s face right before me, sombre but not sad. Her grey-green eyes were as clear as a lake in the spring. Her nod was almost imperceptible. When I smiled, she smiled right back! If it were something else, someone else, I’d have thought I was going crazy. But this was my Aunty Beauty, my godmother and my friend.

  As soon as I settled it once and for all that I would be speaking directly to Aunty Beauty, I was able to be still enough to hear the tail end of Josh’s tribute:

  “…and she didn’t mind me plaiting my hair – she would even plait it herself sometimes when Uncle Theo wasn’t there. So I’m in plaits today to honour her, a free spirit who wanted everyone to live in liberty; who believed in responsibility and personal integrity…”

  I’ve now stopped trying to wipe away my tears. What’s the point? It’s a funeral after all.

  “… the kindest soul, gentle yet strong. To have been taken in the prime ofher life, it is so unfair… yet she would want us to carry on with ours, to live it to the fullest and in truth. I cannot speak for anyone but myself. And so I say to you, Aunty Beauty, you may be gone from us today, but you live forever in my heart. And I will carry the banner of the things for which you stood – and for which you ultimately died…”

  Is there something Josh knows that he is not telling me?

  “… I will live my life to the fullest, in liberty and in truth, in honour of you…”

  “And so will I,” I hear myself whisper, “so will I.”

  July 2006. Beauty’s Funeral

  Melody

  I cannot follow the service. From the moment Beauty’s body was brought in to the singing of Just as I am, I’ve been shaking. It’s just as well there’s an Order of Service with all the songs, prayers and Josh’s tribute in it because I’m simply not following. And I’m meant to be singing at some point, how am I going to get through with that? How and why did I even agree to it?

  This should have been my funeral. Mine, me, Mel – the treacherous sister, the lying mother, the tactless fool. If I’d kept my mouth shut all these years, why didn’t I just keep on doing so? Now that I’ve satisfied that pang of conscience, where does that leave me? With sister dead. And children not speaking to me – to them, I’m as good as dead. And that is only fair. I can’t fault anybody but myself.

  Oh, it could have had such a different ending. How many times will I have to revisit that party?

  There was the food and drinks to match the nautical theme and décor. Did I compliment her on those? If I did, it wasn’t nearly enough. I so took her for granted. There was the musical statues. I thought that was better for grown-ups than musical chairs. Did I tell her that? I doubt it. Then the beach bingos. That was a new one on me to be frank, but I enjoyed it. And yes, my team won the Pictionary contest. How could such a lovely evening have gone so wrong? Because I couldn’t keep my big mouth shut, that’s why.

  And then there was the cake cutting, and cheering and eating and drinking. And then it gradually drew to a close.

  Everyone left for home. If only I’d gone with them, things would have ended up differently. But even though I’d stayed, things could still have ended up differently. For example, I could have stayed to help clear up, but asked Ash and Josh to stay and help too – after all, they are family. And then the conversation would not have happened.

  Or I stayed to help, but gravitated to Beauty in the kitchen, and chatted with her instead, after all, she is – was – my sister.

  Or I stayed to help, got into a conversation with Theo, and cut it short before the great confession. What a fool, a big tactless fool I’ve been.

  They obviously fought after I’d gone. Theo wouldn’t tell me over what. But his fingerprints were indelible on her arms. He said all he did was restrain her as she attacked him. Beauty wouldn’t say boo to a goose, let alone attack anyone. What did he say to her to cause her to react in that way?

  Theo’s voice brings me back. “I am reading from the book of Revelation, chapter 21, verses 1 to 5.” I’m surprised to hear the steadiness in his voice, powerful as always. It was only after the pause was longer than usual that I realised he also was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

  I remember the first time I set eyes on him. He towered above the crowd at Notting Hill Gate. We were all eager to get on the next train, whether space permitted it or not. Beauty and I were behind him on the platform, but he made sure we got in before he did. It turned out we were all headed in the same direction of East London. My other attraction to him was how knowledgeable he was. He’d recently graduated from the University of East London, and was contemplating an MBA. His dad was a prominent politician in Nigeria who feared for his own life and that of his only son as he’d received threats from the ruling military dictatorship. He was a bit undecided whether his stay would be temporary. He was restless. Until he married Beauty and decided to make East London his home. (Or thinking about it now, did he decide to make East London his home and therefore married Beauty?)

  I can’t help wondering what he would do now. What we had was a reckless fling. I was on the rebound from Nick. Theo seemed attentive at first but then withdrew. I didn’t explore it further as I was hoping to patch it up with Nick anyway. When eventually Beauty told me they were going together, I thought about telling her then, but decided against it. I felt she deserved a good man in her life, and from what I could see at the time, Theo was it for her. I didn’t want to spoil it with ‘too much information’.

  It wasn’t until later that I realised I was pregnant. I’ve never stopped wondering what his reaction would have been if I’d told him I was expecting Ashleigh.

  And Beauty, should I have told her? I guess I know the answer to that now. Would she have believed me? Would she have understood? Would she have forgiven me, eventually? I will never know that now. But she probably, most likely, would still have been alive. Hating me, yes, but still alive.

  I’m beginning to see that I’m responsible for Beauty’s death. Theo said he had to stop her from attacking him. If she attacked him, then he said something to set her off. And if he told her that I said he was Ashleigh’s father, then that would have been the trigger. And since I gave him the information, I was responsible for the chain that eventually crushed her. After this is all done and dusted, I will hand myself in. I have nothing else to lose. Although I didn’t pull the trigger, I most certainly loaded the gun, and I should pay for that.

  I was amazed at the sense of peace I felt when I made that resolution. Apparently Theo had finished his reading, I’d missed several steps in the Order of Service including the address, and the slot for quiet personal reflection was drawing to an end. Rev Craig now calls on Ashleigh to say a few words.

  I’ll have to make myself focus long enough to hear everything she has to say as Ash didn’t give in her tribute in time to make it into the printed Order of Service. But it’s hard as seeing Ash’s slight frame in a black halter-neck dress with a silver and black bolero walk up to the lectern, all at once I could see Beauty as a teen, giving a valedictory speech at the end of her A levels…

  “… Aunty Beauty saved my life in many ways” (but it was Ash who was speaking) “… she was the mother that I never really had… and her husband was the father I never knew about until a fortnight ago.” (The gasp from the congregation was palpable) “… I bet she didn’t kno
w that until that night either. And somehow, I don’t know, but I kind of feel that that knowledge has something to do with her untimely death… but I’m only a kid, nobody tells me anything that matters, when it really matters.” (She shot her eyes in my direction. Oh if looks could kill, I’d have been happy to have died just then. As she went on, I could feel the fire raging in her belly, and I know I am to blame for all that anger, all that hate… and I am the one who really deserves to be in the casket, or at best, in jail.)

  “Yes, I’m just a kid who knows nothing. And nobody, I repeat nobody tells me anything that matters, when it really matters. Apart from my Aunty Beauty. Now she’s gone. Has she really gone? Is this a dream, a nightmare of sorts? Is somebody going to wake me up sometime soon? Is this a joke?” (I’m willing myself to listen… there’s so much sniffling and whispering going on, I am really straining to hear… and not to weep.)

  “I’m sorry I don’t really have much to say… I really couldn’t think of any one thing to say hence I didn’t script my speech today… I do think there are questions to be asked. But who cares enough to ask them? The ones who betrayed her? The ones who ignored her? Or the ones who nobody will listen to, because of their age?

  I will therefore speak to my Aunty Beauty: I do hope you are in a better place, that you are happy, and that you are at peace. Because if anyone deserves to be happy at all, that person most certainly is you.

  Thank you for sharing your life with me, your love of words and your joy in painting. I will never forget you as long as I live, you and your funny quirky ways. And I hope that one day…” (she chokes, and pauses) “… that one day…” (a deep sigh) “… that one day I will see you again, and we’ll be together forever…” (she looks to Josh, who is promptly by her side, leading her away from the lectern)…

  As Rev Craig intones, “Let us pray,” we all rise. After this item, it’s my turn to sing my farewell to Beauty, and then a final hymn by the congregation before we proceed to the cemetery.