by Gina Amos
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kevin Taggart sat down with a steaming cup of coffee and the morning newspaper. He had the habit of reading the paper in a particular order, turning first to the death notices and then to the sports’ section. He looked quickly down the list of funeral notices and smiled when he saw her name.
‘PHILLIPS, Rose Patricia (née Evans). Family and friends are warmly invited to attend a Memorial Service for the late Mrs Rose PHILLIPS to be held at St Benedict’s Church, Victoria Road, Ultimo, at noon on Wednesday…’
He read the notice again. St Benedict’s. What a coincidence. Every Sunday as a child he worshipped there without fail. Even if he was ill, his mother never let him miss Sunday Mass at St Benedict’s.
It was an overcast and drizzly Wednesday morning. Flashes of lightning lit the sky and an occasional clap of thunder was heard in the distance. Appropriate weather for a funeral, Kevin thought as he buttoned a clean shirt and tightened the belt of the only decent pair of trousers he owned. As he reached for his tie he knew that it was the wrong colour and the wrong shape. It had gone out of fashion years ago. Looking at his reflection in the mirror he combed a few greasy strands of his hair, which refused to lie flat, against his skull.
He turned the ignition over twice before he put the small, yellow sedan into gear and leant on the horn to let Ashleigh know it was time to leave. But he needn’t have bothered. Ashleigh and the sisters were waiting for him at the top of the driveway. ‘What a merry outing this is going to be,’ Kevin chuckled.
Ashleigh settled herself into the passenger seat and Kevin opened the rear doors for Rhoda and Edi. He made sure they were comfortable and their seat belts were fastened tight before locking the doors.
The Blake sisters were dressed in black outfits, as was appropriate. Rhoda looked smart in a black pillbox hat veiled in black netting which draped softly over her forehead. Kevin imagined that the hat had been sitting on top of her wardrobe for years in a dusty hat box, waiting for just such an occasion.
Edi and Rhoda sat looking out at the traffic through the foggy side windows and listened to the rhythmic brush of the rubber wipers as they stroked the windscreen. Ashleigh noticed the seat covers were ripped and frayed at the edges as she hummed along softly to the classical music as it played quietly in the background. The traffic was heavy and Kevin darted and weaved his way through the city. He slammed on the brakes and hammered the horn as a truck suddenly changed lanes in front of him.
‘Bloody idiot, get out of the way,’ he yelled, then remembered the sisters in the back seat. ‘Sorry ladies, please excuse my language, but there are some people on the road who don’t deserve to have a driver’s licence.’ The sisters didn’t say a word.