by Pam Rhodes
“No, honestly, I like them!”
“That’s more than I can say. Ask any school teacher. We start getting geared up for Christmas somewhere around September, what with rehearsals for end-of-term productions, the Christmas fayre and trips out. Anyone would think we’ve not got anything else to think about – like national exams, for example.”
“Bah, Humbug!” laughed Neil. “I bet you like the mince pies, though.”
“Oh, yeah!” Graham’s eyes lit up.
“If only you weren’t on a diet…”
“Oh, yeah,” agreed Graham glumly, downing his half. “Better get off then. She’ll have my lettuce-leaf salad ready. See you, Neil!”
Neil stayed in the square for a while to chat to several parishioners who were there with their families. Half an hour later he was thinking about getting home to have a hot shower, a cup of tea and a plate of his mum’s casserole in front of the telly, when he felt his mobile phone buzz in his back pocket. For a few seconds, the music from the fairground made it difficult for him to hear the voice at the other end, but when he did, his blood ran cold.
“Neil,” said Margaret, her voice strange and choked, “I’m glad I caught you. I just wanted to warn you before you come in tomorrow morning. Cyn Clarkson called just now. Baby Ellen died at home an hour ago.”
And in the middle of the square, with its cheerful flickering lights and loud Christmas music, Neil slumped against a wall, bowed his head and wept.
* * *
With Christmas looming, the date for Ellen’s funeral was arranged very quickly. Margaret spent a lot of time with the family during the days that preceded the service. The Clarkson clan were well known and much loved locally, and an air of sadness permeated the whole St Stephen’s community. The church was busy, as schools, clubs, charitable organizations and business groups filed in day after day for their annual carol services. The congregation was surrounded by the trappings and tinsel of Christmas, but the sense of helplessness and frustration at the loss of such a longed-for and adored baby sent shockwaves into every heart.
Neil was at his desk in the church office on the day before the funeral when a quick knock on the door made him look up to see Claire standing in the hallway.
“You’re busy. I won’t disturb you.”
“No, come on in. It’s good to see you.”
“I just wanted to drop off the key for the padlock on the back gate. I’ve been putting in some new bulbs under that red beech tree down in the corner of the churchyard – you know, where the Clarkson family plot is. They should be out by Easter.”
“That’s thoughtful. The family will like that.”
“Neil? You look awful. Are you OK?”
With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair.
“It’s been a hard week.”
Claire came across to perch on the corner of his desk.
“I saw Cyn yesterday morning,” she said quietly. “She’s always seemed such a tough, larger-than-life person, you know, able to cope with anything that comes her way. But it was as if she’d shrunk, like a big weight had crushed not just her body but her spirit too.”
“It has.”
“How’s Margaret coping? She and Frank have always been close to that family.”
“You know Margaret. Sometimes it’s hard to know exactly what she’s feeling, because she just knuckles down and gets on with things.”
“It’s her job to provide pastoral care, though, isn’t it? Is she good in situations like this?”
“I’ve often been with her when she’s been talking to bereaved relatives. I admire her so much because she always knows just what to say, which line from the Bible to quote, what prayer is most appropriate. While I’m sitting there thinking I just want to put my arms round them and give them a hug, she keeps her cool – which is absolutely how it should be. It’s at moments like that I realize I still have a lot to learn.”
Claire reached out to cover his hand, and his fingers moved to entwine with hers.
“I’d give them a hug too.”
He almost smiled.
“Yes, you would.”
“Softies of the world unite!”
He said nothing for a while, gazing down at their joined hands before he spoke.
“Tell me, do you find yourself thinking about that night?” A stillness settled around them as if, just for a moment, they were blanketed from the world beyond the office walls.
“Yes.”
“So do I. More than I should.”
“Was it just the worry about Harry? Was that what drew us together, because we were both scared of losing him?”
“Perhaps – but it felt like more than that.”
“You were the first person I thought of when I found him,” said Claire. “I knew if you were with me it’d be OK – I’d cope.”
“I remember at the hospital looking down at you while you were sleeping.” Neil stroked her hand as he spoke. “You were so exhausted, there was hardly any colour in your face, and I found myself thinking that, in spite of everything you were going through, I’d never seen anyone look lovelier. I wanted to lean down and kiss away those dark circles beneath your eyes, take away your worry, make things better…”
“You prayed.” Her voice was soft. “I’d never prayed before. I’d never wanted to. But you drew me into your prayers, and it felt good, as if I was part of something that had the power to help. And it did...”
“Yes, thank God.”
“I’m not there yet, Neil. The God thing. I can’t get my head round it at all, but I do know that something very deep and wonderful happened that night – to Harry and to me…”
“The next morning – do you remember the word you used?”
“Love. I said I loved you. You said it too.”
Neil drew a deep breath before he answered. “It had been an emotional rollercoaster of a night. It’s easy to get swept along when your feelings are all over the place.”
Gently and deliberately, Claire drew his hand up and pressed it to her lips, her eyes burning into his.
“I know what I felt. I said what I meant. And it wasn’t just a spur-of-the-moment thing, because I still feel it now. I’ve never stopped.”
“Claire…”
Suddenly he was on his feet, pulling her to him, clinging to her as their lips met in a passionate kiss of longing, waiting and loving. No words. No need, except for each other. The questions, the what-ifs, the reasons why they shouldn’t, all fell away in their desperate, exciting, unwise, illogical, compelling, overwhelming, soaring need for one another. Their bodies, their separate souls were moulded into one, a single unit, whole and complete.
Sometime later they drew back, breathless and euphoric, staring at each other in glorious disbelief.
“I love you, Claire. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”
“I’m not what you need…”
“… but you’re what I want…”
“… and I want you, so very much…”
The sound of the outside door banging brought them back to earth. Guiltily, they pulled away from each other as Frank walked in carrying a pile of carol sheets for the civic service at the end of the week. If he noticed their heightened colour and flustered expressions, he made no mention of it.
“Oh, Neil, just the man! Margaret was hoping you’d call in this afternoon. She wants to make sure everything’s organized for tomorrow.”
“Of course.” Neil was surprised that his voice sounded so normal, bearing in mind that his life, his world, his whole being had just been turned upside down by the events of the last few minutes. “I can pop in after this.”
“How are you, Frank?” asked Claire. “You’re very close to Jeannie and Colin, aren’t you? Their loss must have hit you hard too.”
The mask of businesslike efficiency dropped from Frank’s face.
“It’s awful, Claire. Thank God they’re such a strong and devoted family, always there for each other, particularly at times like this. Jeanni
e’s wrecked, of course. She’s not slept or eaten properly for weeks. Colin’s different. He’s trying to carry on as usual, keeping work going and everything, but now Ellen’s gone, well, he’s in pieces. It’s dreadful to see lovely people suffer like this.”
“And Margaret?” enquired Claire. “I know she’s got a job to do, but this must be affecting her too. How is she?”
Frank shrugged. “You know my wife. Practical, stoic. She’s just getting on with what needs to be done.”
“I admire her for that,” commented Neil. “Envy her, really. Every time I think of that dear little girl, loved so much by that family who waited years for her, I find myself welling up. It’s tragic.”
“Margaret doesn’t wear her heart on her sleeve, but she does feel things very deeply.”
“Well, I’m anxious to help in any way I can. I’ll go over to the vicarage now.”
“Thanks, Neil.”
“I must get on too,” added Claire, catching Neil’s eye. “Harry and I would like to come to the funeral tomorrow, Frank. That will be all right, won’t it? It’s not just for family?”
“Anyone involved with St Stephen’s is family as far as the Clarksons are concerned. Of course you must come. It’ll be good for them to know how much they’re loved and supported.”
“I’ll ring you…” called Neil as Claire headed for the door. With a nod of mutual understanding, she disappeared from view.
* * *
“I am the resurrection and the life,” says the Lord. “Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.”
As she spoke the ancient words, Margaret led the sombre procession down the central aisle towards the front of the church. St Stephen’s was packed: the congregation had turned out in full force to stand alongside the Clarksons in their grief. All eyes turned towards Colin and Jeannie as they came behind Margaret, carrying between them the small white coffin that contained the body of their beloved daughter, Ellen. Neil followed next, leading the way as Cyn, her husband Jim and their other sons Barry and Carl with their wives and children silently found a place in the front three rows. From there they could watch the tiny box being placed lovingly on the stand in front of the pulpit.
Jeannie had chosen the opening hymn herself, a Charles Wesley favourite from her own childhood, which she had slightly reworded with her little daughter in mind:
Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,
Look upon this little child.
Pity her simplicity,
Suffer her to come to thee.
Fain she would to thee be brought,
Dearest God, forbid it not;
Give her, dearest God, a place
In the kingdom of thy grace.
The sound was thin and ragged in spite of the presence of the choir and the large congregation. No one had the heart for singing, especially not such poignant words on an occasion as sad as this.
Hand in hand, Jim and Cyn made their way up to the pulpit to read from the Bible about how Christ himself had said, “Suffer the little children to come unto me.” Jim did the reading, clutching the hand of his wife, who simply let the tears slide down her cheeks as she stood beside him, her head held high. The church was hushed in unnatural silence as the congregation sat, some staring ahead, some with their heads bowed, dabbing their eyes and noses as they listened.
Most moving of all was the moment when Ellen’s father, Colin, walked stiffly up to the pulpit and laid out the sheet of paper on which he’d written the words he wanted so much to read without breaking down. He nearly didn’t make it. Several times he stopped mid-sentence, gulping for breath as every person in the church tearfully willed him to find the strength to carry on. As he came to the end, he turned towards the coffin.
“Goodbye, little one. We made you. We cherished you. We adored you. We worried for you. We hurt with you. We will love you always. God alone knows why you had to suffer so much, but he has taken you home again and we know you are with him now. Ask God to bless your mummy. She loves and misses you with all her heart. So do I. We all do…”
And the tall, strong man crumpled with grief as he stepped down from the pulpit and walked across to lay his hand on the white coffin. Cyn’s arm went around Jeannie’s waist as Colin allowed his father, Jim, to lead him back to his seat.
Margaret took over then, drawing raw emotions together in a series of prayers for Ellen, each member of her family, all who knew and loved her – and finally for anyone in the church who might be feeling their own grief at that time. After several minutes of silent, personal prayer in which quiet sobs could be heard around the church, Wendy’s clear, sweet soprano voice rang out as she started the sad, soft anthem with which the choir brought the service to a close. Asking for God’s blessing on them all, Margaret then suggested that the majority of the mourners might like to make their way over to the church hall while just close family and friends walked to the Clarkson family plot in the graveyard. There Ellen would be laid to rest alongside generations of her family who had gone before her.
As Neil stood at the back of the family group, watching the tiny coffin disappear into the ground beneath the red beech tree, he found himself thinking about his father. He remembered the times the two of them had wandered among old gravestones, reading the names and dates, trying to imagine what had brought these people to their final resting place. They had often commented on the number of very young children who’d died in years gone by, but Neil realized that until that day, until that moment when Ellen’s body finally disappeared forever, he’d never truly recognized the bleak despair that had probably marked the loss of every single child.
The sky darkened as a cloud of drizzle soaked them through, but no one was anxious to leave. They just stood there, looking towards Ellen’s final resting place, hearts heavy, heads bowed.
* * *
The wake in the church hall after Ellen’s funeral was surprisingly lively and warm-hearted, as if the sadness of the service had to be replaced by hugs and smiles that somehow represented the pleasure Ellen had brought to them all during her short life. Old friends of the Clarkson family had come from far and wide, some of them former members of the Dunbridge community, and over the sumptuous buffet lovingly provided by Beryl and her team, many neighbours got reacquainted as memories were shared.
At one point, Neil turned to see Wendy standing alone just a few yards away from him. He knew that Colin and Jeannie were special friends of hers, so, after a moment’s hesitation, he went across to stand by her side.
“You sang beautifully today.”
“Thank you. It wasn’t easy.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t, but you sounded wonderful.”
“I can’t believe she’s gone. I keep thinking about how excited Jeannie and Colin were when they knew she was finally on her way, after all those years they’d waited. Three attempts at IVF, that’s what they went through. Lesser couples would have been crushed by that, but those two just grew closer than ever.”
Wendy drew a white hankie out of her jacket pocket.
“Sorry. I’m OK really. I’ve just got to stop thinking about it.”
Neil reached out to touch her shoulder.
“No, you haven’t. There’s no time limit on grief. You just have to let it take its course.”
To his surprise, Wendy moved forward to lean against him, resting her head on his shoulder as if she were a small child. For a moment he stiffened, embarrassed at her closeness, but then he gave in to his instinct to close his arms around her, wanting to give her comfort and strength. Her whole body sagged as she relaxed into his embrace, sobbing quietly – and the two of them stood with their arms around each other as they had so often in the past.
“I’d forgotten how good this feels.” Her voice was muffled and wretched, almost a whisper, as she spoke. “I’ve missed you, Neil.”
An image of Claire crept into Neil’s mind and he was uncertain of what to say. Fortunately t
he need to respond was removed as Wendy’s mother, Sylvia, noticing her daughter’s distress, called over to her. With a wan smile, Wendy allowed herself to be drawn away.
“I’ve got some news for you.”
Neil turned to find one of the churchwardens, Peter, standing beside him.
“Hello, Peter. A sad occasion today.”
“Very,” agreed Peter, “and this is probably not the best of times to say this, but I just need to tell someone! My decree nisi papers came through this morning. In six weeks’ time my marriage to Glenda will be over, completely and absolutely!”
“I’m glad for you, Peter. Six weeks, eh? That’s around the end of January.”
“And Val and I have something to ask you. We’d like to book ourselves in to get married – in April, perhaps, just after Easter?”
Neil couldn’t help but return Peter’s delighted grin. “I’m sure that can be arranged. Have you spoken to Margaret yet?”
“She knows what we’re planning, but I haven’t had chance to tell her about the timing, what with everything going on today. Val and I need to book a proper chat with her, because it’s important to us that we actually marry in church, and that all our vows are made in St Stephen’s, which is our spiritual home. We don’t just want a blessing. That wouldn’t feel right for us.”
“No, I can see that. Of course, it’s always an issue when there’s been a divorce, but the decision to allow a full marriage service is at the discretion of the minister. I know Margaret feels that decision must be based on the Christian understanding and commitment of the people involved. I’m sure she’ll be glad to help – and if she won’t, I will!”
“Thanks, Neil.”
Much later that afternoon, after the buffet had disappeared and the crowd dwindled away, Neil and Margaret arrived back in the church office at the same time. Margaret looked tired.
“I’ll put them away for you,” offered Neil, taking a stack of papers out of her arms. “You’re all in. Not surprising after all that’s happened today.”
Margaret sat down heavily on the seat by her desk.
“It was a tough one. It’s never easy when you know the family involved, when they’re your friends.”