by Pam Rhodes
“Poor Angela. It obviously didn’t frighten her and Keith off, though, I’m glad to say.”
Just at that moment, they caught sight of the long, black roof of a hearse slowing down as it passed the low hedge along the front of the churchyard wall. The driver carefully manoeuvred the vehicle through the gate and up the path towards the door of the church where Neil and David were waiting to greet them. Three people climbed out of the front seats. Vera’s son, Philip, appeared first, followed by his wife, Pat, while the driver, who introduced himself as Andy, made his way round from the other side of the car. Once Philip and David had reacquainted themselves after so many years, Neil got down to business.
“We’re all ready. I suggest we have a short funeral service inside the church, then we can move over to the grave for the committal and blessing. Is anyone else likely to come?”
“There’s none of Mum’s family left in this area now. She was eighty-five when she died.”
“There are four assistants from the undertakers in town – they’re coming along in a quarter of an hour or so, to help with the actual burial,” put in David.
“I see,” said Neil, turning to the driver. “Have you got the paperwork?”
“Paperwork?”
“The green slip?”
Andy’s expression was totally blank. “They didn’t give me nothing.”
“The green slip which authorizes the release of the body?”
Andy shrugged his shoulders. “Never said a word about no green slip.”
Neil looked hopefully at Philip.
“This is the first I’ve heard of it.” There was a note of alarm in Philip’s voice. “That’s right, isn’t it, Pat? They didn’t give us a green form of any sort, did they?”
“Well,” said Neil, his thoughts racing, “as far as I know, a body can’t be released for burial unless it’s been authorized. Usually the undertaker takes care of the relevant paperwork along with all the other arrangements for the funeral.”
“This has been unusual, though,” said Philip, “because we didn’t organize a proper funeral near us. She’s outlived the few friends she had, and she always said she wanted just a few words said down here at St Gabriel’s before we put her in the plot beside my dad and her parents. She wasn’t big on religion, if I’m honest, and she was never a woman to want a fuss.”
Neil looked at David to find the churchwarden looking back at him with a matching expression of total confusion.
“I can’t ring Margaret,” Neil said, thinking out loud. “She’s away at her daughter’s today. I won’t disturb her.”
“Are you the undertaker?” David asked the driver.
Andy shook his head.
“Can we get your boss on the phone, then? He is the undertaker, I assume, so perhaps he can shed some light on this?”
“He’s not my boss. He’s my uncle. He’s just giving me a few readies for driving down here today.”
Pat started to sob quietly.
“Look,” said Philip, his arm around her shoulders, “this is really upsetting my wife. How much does this bit of green paper matter? Mum’s obviously dead. I can vouch for the fact that’s her in the box because we only closed it up this morning before we left. That’s the plot she wants to go in and we’re all here, so let’s just get on with it!”
“It’s not as simple as that, I’m afraid.”
“I need the loo,” wailed Pat.
“It’s been a long journey, love. Of course you do. Is there a loo here?”
“Not in the church, I’m afraid,” replied David. “Look, can I suggest that you and your wife make yourselves comfortable in the pub just over the road there while we three try to get to the bottom of this? We’ll make a few phone calls, then come and get you when it’s clear for us to proceed.”
“I could do with a wee too,” said Andy moodily.
“You’re representing the undertaker here today,” said David sternly. “We need answers, if not from you, then from your uncle. You’ll have to get him on the phone immediately to see if we can sort out this unfortunate muddle as quickly as possible.”
An hour later, it became abundantly clear that the impossible had happened. Against all odds, Vera’s body had been released and despatched for a burial at the other end of the country without the correct paperwork being completed. Philip and his wife blamed the mistake on the undertaker. The undertaker blamed it on them for wanting such an unusual arrangement. The bottom line was that, whoever was to blame, Vera was stuck in a box on top of the ground she really needed to be buried in.
“Who issues these release forms?” asked Neil.
“It’s part of the death certificate, so a registrar does it.”
“Where can we find a registrar quickly? Will we have to go to Bedford?”
A smile crept over David’s face. “Perhaps not. I know a lady who is most definitely a registrar, although mostly retired these days, I understand.”
“Where is she? Can we ring her?”
David turned to look beyond the end of the church grounds. “Right there. Angela’s a registrar! I’m sure she is!”
Neil, who wasn’t close enough to Angela and her family to know what professions they were in, muttered a quick prayer of thanks under his breath before hurrying after David, who was already striding ahead towards the gate behind the church. Several hundred yards beyond that, the path opened out to reveal a beautiful old barn. It had been lovingly converted into a spacious family home, the front of which was covered by a blanket of varigated ivy.
“She’s probably not home…” worried Neil, but seconds after their ring on the doorbell, Angela herself opened the door. Inviting them in at once, she sat at one side of the kitchen table while they poured out their dilemma from the other. When they’d finished, her expression was difficult to read as she considered their problem. At last, she leaned forward, folding her arms on the table as she looked at them.
“Well, there are several things you need to know in answer to this. Firstly, yes, I am still a registrar. I’ve basically retired from being in the office all week long, and mostly just do the nice, glamorous stuff these days – weddings either at the office or in all sorts of other unusual places. I pick and choose the jobs really. But yes, as a registrar I can still sort out the release form you need. That is in my power.”
“Great!” Neil felt his shoulders drop with sheer relief.
“I said it’s in my power. I didn’t say I was prepared to do it.”
Neil realized that David was nodding his head with understanding as he looked across at Angela.
“There was never any love lost between you and Vera Dunton, was there?”
“She was a witch! There’s no other word I can think of to describe that evil woman after what she put me through.”
“Because she didn’t want you to buy the barn?”
“She had no idea the barn had been sold until we arrived to look around. I remember she came marching over when we were trying to talk to the architect, and started smashing the window of his van with a shovel. She was like a screaming banshee!”
“That must have been so frightening.”
“That’s an understatement. What followed was months of vitriol and spite. We moved in before the work was completely finished, and she was still furious with us. It would have been easier for me if Keith hadn’t been working in London at the time. That’s why we moved here: so that the kids could grow up in the country while he was near enough to get down to London fairly easily.”
“So you spent a lot of time on your own here with the children?”
“From seven in the morning until eight at night every weekday, and I can tell you I lived in fear of her. I had visions of her creeping up on us and setting the barn alight with the children and me in it.”
“Surely not?”
“Well, we’d have been hard pushed to find enough water to put any blaze out. We weren’t connected to mains water for ages, but when the water supplier asked for
permission to take a feed from the supply to her farm so it could be piped across to us under her land, she flatly refused. She chased them off with a shotgun! And because of that, we had to find thousands of pounds to get them to bring us a fresh water supply around a much longer and more difficult route. She knew I had a small baby and a toddler here, but she just didn’t care. She was completely heartless.”
“I think her heart had been broken,” said David softly.
“Perhaps. If I were a kinder person, I might allow her that, but she robbed me of my peace of mind. She robbed us all of the delight and pleasure of building our family home here. She robbed my children of the chance to play freely in their own garden for fear she’d barge in to complain about them. She did everything she could to drive us away.”
“But you stayed?” said Neil quietly.
“Yes, we did! We were determined not to let her beat us. This was our home, our dream. We weren’t going to let a bitter old biddy force us out. She didn’t feel any compassion towards us and I’m afraid I can’t find even a trace of compassion in my heart towards her now.”
“After all these years? Even now, you still feel like that?”
“Neil, I’m a Christian. I’ve been a Christian all my life. My family are regular worshippers here and at St Stephen’s – and because of that, I’m ashamed at how I must come across to you right now. I know you’re thinking you should give me the lecture about how Christians are supposed to turn the other cheek and love their neighbour, but when it comes to Vera Dunton, any spirit of Christian kindness deserts me. I have never hated anyone in my life except for that awful woman, because she put my family in danger, and we lived in fear because of her. We didn’t deserve any of that and I can never forgive her. I just can’t!”
“She’s been living with her son up in Gateshead ever since she left.”
“Did she make his life a misery too?”
“She was eighty-five when she died last week, a sick old lady who simply wished to be brought back home after her death to be buried alongside the parents she loved and the husband she adored.”
Angela said nothing.
“Philip and his wife Pat have travelled down with her today.”
She stiffened.
“Would you at least see them?”
“I’d rather not. Don’t drag me into this, Neil.”
“This is hard for them too.”
“I remember him, actually, Philip. He used to come down and see her sometimes, before she moved up to be with them.”
“How was he towards you?”
“Sheepish, mostly. I don’t think his life was ever much of a picnic with her as a mother.”
“Probably not, but he’s done his best by her. He and his wife Pat have looked after her all this time.”
Angela was silent for a moment.
“Where are they now?”
“At the Black Bull.”
“Look, bring them over. This isn’t their fault, but I don’t want them to think it’s all my fault, either, so I’d prefer to be honest and explain all this to them myself.”
Within ten minutes, David had raced over to the pub, bringing back just Philip to Angela’s home as Pat had been about to tuck into a meal she’d ordered in the pub. When Angela opened the door to him, Philip didn’t immediately come in, but stood for a while looking up at the outside of the building.
“I remember this. I used to play in this place when it was a cowshed.”
“Did you?”
“My dad would be in here before six in the morning, even on Christmas Day. And at the weekends, when I didn’t have to go to school, he used to get me up so I could help him.”
Angela eyed him with curiosity as he smiled at the memory.
“Actually I don’t think I ever helped much, but he made me think my contribution was important.”
“What was your mother’s reaction to that?”
“They were good together, Mum and Dad. I remember how her face used to light up whenever he came in at the end of the day. It was as if, for her, the house wasn’t a home until he was in it.”
“I can’t imagine your mum being like that.”
Philip looked at her. “No, how could you? I remember you too. You had a couple of youngsters when you came here, didn’t you? I thought she’d drive you away. That’s what she wanted, but I told her how pointless it was to feel like that, because even if you did go, the barn would never be hers again.”
“Did she really believe that could happen?”
“Perhaps. I think in the early days when Uncle Herbie sold off most of the farm, she was just so angry with him that she lashed out in all directions. You were in direct line of fire.”
“Philip, she made our lives hell. You have to know that, because I’m struggling even now, after all this time, to find any sympathy towards her.”
Philip nodded with acceptance and understanding. “I don’t blame you for that.”
From inside the hallway, David and Neil looked at each other helplessly.
“Come in, Philip,” said Angela suddenly. “Come and see what we’ve done to your old cowshed.”
It took more than a quarter of an hour for Philip to be shown round Angela’s home. At each stop, he had a memory that painted a picture of his parents’ tough life on the farm as he was growing up. By the time he and Angela reappeared in the kitchen, they were chatting like old friends.
Angela leaned against the Aga, her expression thoughtful. Philip came to stand close by her.
“I’m sorry,” he said simply, “really sorry about how Mum treated you. I knew how hurt Mum was by what Uncle Herbie did. I think everything got mixed up in her mind, so she blamed you, even though you’d done absolutely nothing to deserve it. I watched how she struggled on after she’d lost Dad. She just couldn’t cope on her own. It broke her heart when she had to move away. She never really settled up north, even though she was with us for more than twenty years. You probably won’t believe this, but she did mention you. She said more than once that she regretted the way she’d been with you. She knew it was too late, but I think deep down she would have liked to apologize. So I’m saying sorry to you. To your family from ours – I’m sorry.”
A single tear ran down Angela’s cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. Then she reached out to clasp Philip’s outstretched hand, and the two of them stood there for a while, both plainly moved by what they’d just shared.
“Right!” said Angela, abruptly pulling back her hand. “Philip, you go and get your wife. Neil, you head over to the church to set up for the service. David, you ring the local undertakers and get those four chaps here ready to help with the burial. I’ll be along shortly with a green slip – and time to join you all in a prayer for Vera.”
* * *
“Any idea who she is yet?”
Debs and Wendy were having one of their monthly nights out when they decided to let someone else do the cooking and went out for a meal while they caught up on the gossip.
“Not really,” replied Wendy. “I don’t think it’s anyone at the church. No one’s said a word and I’ve been watching his every move.”
“So where could he have met someone?”
“Don’t know,” shrugged Wendy. “Another curate, maybe, when he’s gone off for his potty-training sessions?”
“But why keep quiet about someone as suitable as that? I just can’t see it, can you?”
“Perhaps not.”
“What about the internet? Lots of people meet that way nowadays.”
“Neil’s a complete technophobe,” smiled Wendy. “He’d never have the gumption to do something like that.”
“So perhaps Graham’s got it wrong. Maybe there isn’t anyone else in Neil’s life?”
Wendy took a mouthful of garlic bread while she considered that possibility.
“Neil didn’t contradict me when I told him I knew.”
“How did he seem?”
“Shocked. Guilty, even.”
�
��So what did you do? Did you wish you hadn’t mentioned it?”
“What I did…” said Wendy, licking the remains of garlic bread off her fingers one by one, “was to kiss him.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did.”
“And what was his reaction?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t stay around long enough to find out. I believe in leaving my men wanting more.”
“And does he?”
“Oh, yes,” purred Wendy. “He may not know it yet, but he certainly does.”
“Well, I’ve got a bit of news for you,” said Debs, laying down her knife and fork as she leaned closer to Wendy. “I haven’t told Graham yet, but I did a test this morning.”
“A pregnancy test?” asked Wendy, her eyes wide with disbelief.
Debs nodded.
“And? Are you?”
“I most certainly am!”
“Debs, that’s brilliant. At least, I think it’s brilliant, but how do you feel about it?”
“Well,” said Debs, her expression becoming more serious, “I think it’s wonderful. Not sure what Graham’s reaction will be, though.”
“It’ll be the making of him!”
“I know that, and so do you – but I’ve got a feeling his initial reaction will be sheer panic.”
“You can talk him round, though, can’t you? I can see him being a great dad.”
“So can I, but the important question is, can I see him being a great husband?”
“You want to get married?”
“Of course I do. No child of mine is going to come into this world out of wedlock. And if that sounds quaint and old-fashioned, well, that’s just the way it is. Unless Graham agrees to put a ring on my finger, that’s it. It’s over and I’m off!”
CHAPTER 11
“I love you.”
Claire was standing by the kitchen window gazing out at the garden as Neil slid his arms round her waist, nuzzling his face into the soft skin of her neck. She turned immediately in his arms so that she could stretch up to draw him to her in a leisurely kiss that ended with him softly running his lips over her cheeks and chin and nose before kissing her again with deepening passion.