The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1094 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I dropped the clothing to the undertakers and suddenly it was Thursday. I was getting the hang of having a young baby, with Stella’s help, and here I was leaving her to Stella’s tender mercies while I went off to the funeral. Trish wanted to come as well, but I didn’t think a funeral service would be any place for a child. There were protests and tears, but I held firm and went alone.

I wore a dark suit and a raincoat—the weather had turned unsettled and it wasn’t as warm as August is generally expected to be. On my feet I wore boots with modest heels, I would attend at the grave-side and drop in the few flowers I carried with me. Made sure my makeup was waterproof but even then there was a risk that I’d smudge it all over.

Inside each of the coffins I had placed a small gift, a teddy for Daisy, a wedding posy for Maria and a golfing glove for Paul—he was apparently very fond of his game. I also put in a photo of the baby for each of them. I was invited to the undertaker’s to see them all before they sealed the caskets and while I was afraid what I’d see, I actually went and said a personal goodbye and gave them their gifts. I also kissed each one of them on the forehead and left. It was an hour before I got home I was so upset. That was on the Wednesday and here it was, the funeral.

The priest did a good job and I stood and sat at the appropriate times, and even managed the odd amen. The church bore a respectable crowd and I was a little concerned that I appeared to be sitting on my own in the front row.

The eulogy was very moving although I couldn’t go with the ‘being called to Jesus’ bit but then it wasn’t my show. Otherwise I sat quietly and wept with most of the other people who were there. I glanced around at the decor of the place and felt totally alienated by the iconography— it did nothing for me, let alone console me.

After, at the committal, I stood in the rain holding my umbrella in one hand and my three flowers in the other—a white rose, a red rose and a large ornamental daisy. On the signal from the priest I dropped my flowers one at a time onto the coffins and then walked from the grave. Others did similarly and followed me away. Afterwards, the priest and I thanked every one for coming and then invited them back to the Royal George for refreshments.

“Are you Maria’s sister?” asked several of the mourners, and seemed surprised when I said I was just a friend.

I was pleased to see Andy Bond there, and he explained he always tried to attend a funeral for anyone with whom he’d been involved. The refreshments were the standard fare of tea and sandwiches. I wasn’t hungry and the lump in my throat made swallowing even the tea difficult.

How could a whole family be wiped out in such a short time? All that was left was the little bundle of joy in my house and I would do all I could to help her understand her past.

The funeral director spoke to me afterwards. “I think your idea of dressing them in their wedding things and the little girl in the bridesmaid’s dress was delightful—d’you know, I’m sure after we did it, the whole place felt lighter, as if they approved.”

I shrugged, “I don’t know if they did or not but to me it seemed to be appropriate.”

“How is the baby?”

“She’s fine, she’s doing well on the hospital milk—I get fresh breast milk from the hospital although we have to try and get her on to a formula one next week. Apparently, they can only supply it for so long.”

“I think you’re very brave to take on someone’s baby, especially as you lead such a busy life.”

“She is such a sweetheart, she wakes once in the night and takes her feed very nicely and goes back off no problem.”

“You’re very lucky, all mine played hell during the night, and one used to get colic.” A tall woman stood next to me. She looked me up and down, “Are you the Cathy who helped Maria after the car accident?”

“Only insofar as I went to see Daisy each day to let Paul spend time with Maria.”

“I heard you’re something of a healer or a witch.”

“I’m actually a biologist, so I think you may have the wrong Cathy.”

“No, I think you’re the right one and you were very uncomfortable in church, why was that?”

“I’m agnostic.”

“Um—that’s interesting, you’re not into the goddess, then?”

“Goddess? No, I don’t believe any of that mumbo-jumbo stuff, it’s just words.”

“Is it? Her presence in you is very strong.”

“Is it, sorry I don’t feel it.”

“Just relax and let it come through, she will guide you.”

“I’m doing alright by myself so far, at least I think so.”

“Well, she has told me to inform you she is waiting when you change your mind, rejoice in her, she only comes to those females she judges worthy of her help and never to men. Let me know if I can be of assistance.” She shoved a business card in my hand and left. I shoved it in my pocket, the last thing I needed at the moment was being admitted to a coven or something similar, especially to worship a goddess who couldn’t tell a real female from a wannabe. I was getting tetchy. I tried to eat something— a small tuna finger roll—hoping it would boost my blood sugars; as that could explain my crabbiness.

I spoke with several other mourners, one who’d worked with Paul who told me several stories, which I’d have to document, so I could pass them on to Catherine. One or two were friends of Maria, and again I was asked if I was a relative, although the priest had said both Paul and Maria were raised in children’s homes. So maybe it wasn’t just me who failed to listen properly to the eulogy.

I did try to listen to the bit about Daisy, but the, ‘suffer the little children’ made me feel angry. Then when he went on about how both Maria and she had recovered miraculously from earlier injuries, ‘they were surely blessed.’ I felt like standing up and asking if they were, how come we were attending their funerals?

I didn’t of course, it would serve no purpose except to upset people who were upset enough. Maybe they had been blessed, who was I to disagree? After people began to leave, I thanked the pub landlord for the spread and left.

I drove up onto the downs, parked in a view point and howled for half an hour at the injustice of life, at its unfairness and how could any god or goddess, for that matter, take the life of a six year old child?

After I’d totally ruined my eye makeup I wiped my face and went home to try and recover from my sadness.