by Sarah Till
“I wouldn’t be surprised if there were snipers on the roof.”
Reverend Sloan began the service with a short introduction, not unlike a business talk, and I wondered when he would bust out the PowerPoint presentation. I glanced around the church for a familiar face but there were none. No aunties and uncles. No cousins. The only people I recognised were my children and ex-husband. Seated two rows back, Ellis and I were at the end of a row of rose-clutching youngsters. Shiralee fragranced the row in front of us and Jupiter sat beside her, Swiss Steve on the other side, ever-aware of me to his right through a slightly turned eye. Reverend Sloan pressed on.
“And we are here today to remember the life of Sally Mason-Baxter, devoted mother, grandmother and wife. Sally worked tirelessly to make sure that the villages and its centre, the church, is a success. She and John,” at this point John turned around and grinned, “recruited youngsters to the path of righteousness from local schools and nurseries. By providing instruments for the band you see on stage, they have brought the church into the twenty-first century. Sally in particular was very keen that all young people should know the ways of the Lord and shun the evil ways of wrongdoers. May she rest eternally in heaven.”
Several people shouted ‘Amen’ and John Baxter rose and evicted Reverend Sloan from the pulpit. He leaned forward and rested on his forearm.
“Fellow worshippers, and those who join us today from the secular world.” He sneered as he spat the word ‘secular’. “Sally’s life was, until four years ago, a chaotic round of frivolity and thoughtlessness. The poor woman was surrounded for years by a selfish child who made unreasonable demands on her, ”I breathed in for a moment as John’s words registered, and he paused for effect. Ellis clutched my hand and held me steady, “Not that that’s your fault, Virginia, you were never versed in the ways of the Lord. Your life was shaped by a mother who was, until recently, unaware of her real duties, to dedicate her life to God, and you in turn entered into wedlock and took the same false path with your children, by divorcing and showing a bad example by living in sin. But I tell you, Virginia,” he pointed at my blood red, angry face, “Commit yourself to the Lord now! It isn’t too late! Sally more than made up for her evil ways, repented and made good her life. Your own children have gained admission to the kingdom of heaven, and your husband Steve, he too is forgiven.”
I was almost at boiling point as the whole church focussed on me and my apparent devil-worshiping relationship with my sinful lover Ellis, who’d bowed his head now and pulled in his lips. I stared at John Baxter, whose sneering smile bore into me. The silence lingered for another minute whilst Ellis and I both struggled to contain our anger. I knew it wasn’t the time or the place and kept it in. John continued to lean on the pulpit and stare at me. Suddenly, he jumped aside. A small blonde girl, aged about fifteen, strolled onto the stage with an acoustic guitar. The lighting in the church dimmed and she strummed the first chords of Ave Maria.
I turned to Ellis. His eyes brimmed with anger.
“How long till we can go?”
I panicked inside.
“Look, we can go now if you like. That was unacceptable.”
Shiralee turned and shushed us. Her face was stern and disapproving.
“Have you no respect? Your own mother’s funeral and look at you, talking whilst Amy sings about our Lord.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. John’s suggestion that my family had all, en masse, become devoutly religious was beyond my comprehension. I argued with my internal logic. Was he completely unaware of Swiss Steve’s criminal past? Or that both my children were lying thieves? From the look of all three, it had certainly made an impression on their appearance. Smartly dressed in their funeral clothes, I noted that in fact Jupiter’s earring was a tiny cross and Shiralee clutched a gold rosary. Swiss Steve was uncharacteristically quiet and serene and was managing to restrain himself from taunting Ellis. It certainly seemed to be true. I wondered if I should be pleased, if Mum’s do-gooding had actually reformed a set of scoundrels where I had failed?
Amy finished her song and Jupiter went to the pulpit. My heart sank as my son looked near to tears. A lump in my throat became a boulder as he cleared his throat for his eulogy. He read from a white folder with Mum’s name on the front.
“My grandmother was murdered and now she has gone to the Kingdom of Heaven. As John mentioned, her life was never perfect, but she taught me more than anyone else in the world, except my dad,” now Swiss Steve turned and smirked at me, “and I will miss her. Before she was murdered, she made me first lieutenant of the corps of the Lord and I promise here and now that I will carry out her wishes to fend off all evil in all its forms. All its forms...”
Jupiter broke down and I rose to help him. My little boy, crying in front of all those people, involved in goodness knows what within a scenario that looked more surreal by the minute. Swiss Steve turned and pushed me into my seat, rushing to rescue our son. I needed air. John was back on the stage, this time wearing sunglasses, strumming an unbearable version of the Stone Roses’ Sally Cinnamon. I felt dizzy and vague and as if I no longer knew my own family. Ellis followed my lead as we ran past my mother’s coffin and towards the doors. The police contingent rushed forward, and, for a moment I slowed and assumed they would block our way. But the door was flung open and our path was directed by two armed officers, who guided us round the side of the church and remained on high alert. Ellis stopped and leaned on the wall.
“What the fuck was that?” he breathed heavily. “Are we caught in some kind of fucking Wako cult? I expected David Ike to pop up at any moment. And what’s all this with the police?”
On cue, DI Payne strode out of the building behind the tall man in a black suit.
“Ah, Virginia. Ellis.”
His voice had a tinge of excitement and danger.
“DI Payne. What the hell’s going on here? I thought you said you would be low profile?”
Payne rubbed his hands together and glanced skyward as a helicopter wailed overhead.
“That was before, Virginia. We’ve had a breakthrough on this case. As you can see, we are on high alert.” Ellis looked more excited and interested than I had seen him in months. Payne looked at the man in the dark suit who nodded at him to continue. “This is Mr Smith.”
Ellis nearly swallowed his tongue in an effort not to laugh.
“Mr Smith. Like in the Matrix?”
DI Payne sighed. His thick Bristol accent became thicker.
“Not taking this seriously. Look Mr Brunel. We have a situation here. A situation. Virginia was spotted on CCTV this morning being tracked by a potential terrorist.” My mind quickly reran the events of the day and I pressed the pause button at the tube this morning. “Two people were arrested following a disturbance on the tube yesterday morning. Virginia, do you remember yesterday morning on the tube, when the two people were led away?”
I frowned.
“You mean the two kids? One of them smelled of ammonia or peroxide and everyone ran off the tube? Yes. I remember that.”
DI Payne looked at Mr Smith who folded his arms.
“I’m afraid there’s a bit more to it than that. The man you saw on the tube is related to a known terrorist. His accomplice was carrying a component of bomb-making equipment.”
I could hear the wailing of John Baxter inside the church and I stared at DI Payne.
“But they were just kids.”
“They were following you.”
“Did they tell you that? That they were following me?”
“No. We traced their movements and they were destined for the same stop as you.”
“What’s this got to do with my mother’s death?”
So far, the wordy ping pong had moved rapidly, but now DI Payne stepped back and Mr Smith spoke slowly and decisively.
“The line of investigation that we are following at the moment is that Mrs Baxter was assassinated by an extremist group. She had written several letters to the Ti
mes regarding the downturn of organised religion. We believe that there was a plot to kill your mother which succeeded. And a plot to kill you yesterday which failed due to the vigilance of the public.”
I looked at Ellis who looked confused. I couldn’t take this in. I knew that my mother was completely racist, as we had shared many differences of opinion of cosmopolitan Britain, but I never dreamt that she was so intolerant. I tried to put the puzzle together in my head but the pieces just wouldn’t fit. I tried to force them home.
“So, even if this does turn out to be true and Mum was murdered by some extremist group, why would they be after me?”
Ellis nodded his agreement to my question ad Mr Smith conceded.
“A fair question, and one that we have not really established an answer to as yet. But we have the two people who were in the tube train compartment with you under arrest. As a matter of interest, when everyone else left the train and started running, why did you stay?”
My mind raced back to the same solitary question I had asked myself yesterday. Why, exactly, had I stayed on the train? I thought for a moment than answered.
“Well, I didn’t actually see any reason to panic. The girl was talking about dying her hair. The boy was kissing her. It all looked very innocent. I couldn’t see why anyone would be upset. Except for the smell.”
Mr Smith’s expression did not change.
“The smell of ammonia, of peroxide? Didn’t that alert you to danger?”
“No. Not really. Obviously it crossed my mind, especially when everyone rushed off the tube, but to be honest I gave them the benefit of the doubt. So, how are they implicated in my mother’s death? Have you got any proof of that?”
Mr Smith maintained his blank look as DI Payne became more excited.
“They had a tube map and were taking the same route as you. We saw on CCTV where you got on and off. They had the same stop highlighted. They had peroxide in a small bag, which they say was planted on them. They were en route to a safe house, we believe. And the young man is a relative of a well-known terror propagator in London. Someone we have been following for a while. Someone we have intelligence on. Someone who has made threats against religious groups. Threats against people like your mother and John Baxter. As I said, Virginia, we are making further enquiries and in the meantime we have the pair locked up. But you can never be too sure. There is no further intelligence, but we took the precaution of safeguarding this operation. If they have assassinated your mother in her own home and followed you onto the tube, then who knows what they are capable of?”
I was confused. Ellis put his arm around me.
“I still don’t see what this has to do with Jinny? She and Sally were estranged, and she is nothing to do with this church group that Sally and John run. I really don’t see the connection.”
Mr Smith drew his lips back into a tight smile.
“Of course, Mr Brunel, we know about Virginia’s background and her estrangement from Sally Baxter. This was a focus of our murder enquiry. And initially I was stumped by why they would want to get to Virginia. But then we discovered her involvement with the Joseph Emmanuel project.”
Mr Smith was speaking about me as if I wasn’t present. As if I was a small child who had failed to understand the logic of the situation. Or a mere woman amongst three male strategists. I straightened and asserted myself.
“Look, I have no doubt that you know what you are doing, but don’t you think you are clutching at straws here? I mean, what if that poor boy and girl are innocent? If I had a box of peroxide on the tube, would you arrest me? For goodness’ sake, they didn’t actually have a bomb, did they?”
Mr Smith paused for a moment.
“No. They had no device, neither were they armed. But they posed significant risk and were uncooperative. Then we discovered the links to the militant group and the pieces fitted together. Clutching at straws, Mrs Munro? At least we’re clutching at something. This is all we can clutch at in the presence of nothing else.”
I stared at him for a moment longer. I could hear the final wails of John Baxter from the church. I wanted to run away, as fast as I could, from this heavily staged fiasco. Ellis looked completely forlorn now as DI Payne, Mr Smith and two other plain clothes officers formed a huddle by the church door.
I sighed and gripped my black handbag.
“What shall we do then? We can either go now or wait for the burial and go after that.”
Ellis knew that I wanted to stay, even though the situation was threatening. A certain masochistic streak I had was whispering to me. It told me to wait, just wait, because if you suffer enough, all will become clear. I couldn’t decide what to do. Ellis stared hard at me and I tried to imagine leaving without seeing my mother buried. I also tried to imagine the scene when, in a couple of minutes, everyone spilled from the church and all eyes returned to us. Ellis intervened.
“OK, we’ll stay. But believe me, I won’t take any shit from them. Don’t expect me to keep my mouth shut.”
I nodded and we waited. My eyes traced the path of the helicopter, the pilot so close we could see him speaking into his microphone. The armed police stood alert, ready for any eventuality. Mr Smith and DI Payne were deep in conversation. I wondered how the hell all this had happened. How had John Baxter elicited my frankly heathen mother into a life of moral servitude? How had he, in turn, recruited my family into his strange world of religious human resources? I surveyed my body and realised that I was in shock. I had been abused publicly at my own mother’s funeral by her husband, someone I hardly knew. My body felt numb and tired. I glanced sideways at Ellis who stood with his hands in his pocket, still staring at the helicopter.
“You OK?” I offered.
Ellis smiled a little.
“Uh-huh. You?”
“Well, I’m a bit put out about being shouted down in church and informed that I’m the target of a terror campaign. But apart from that, not too bad.”
He put his arm around me, a gesture reserved for only the worst of occasions as it was logistically awkward for us. My shoulders are quite wide and his arms quite short. We save this for the times when we need each other most. I reciprocated by shooting him a smouldering look, the look that reminds him of when we first dated, and is hidden behind my usual stressed features, only to emerge when I am desperate for his support. He pulled me closer and I could feel his heart beat.
The doors to the church swung open and the coffin emerged, carried by Swiss Steve, Jupiter and some anonymous mourners. John led the procession with Shiralee by his side and Reverend Sloan rushing to keep up. I walked towards the cemetery in an attempt to avoid the black parade and to dodge any further torment. Ellis and I reached the gate and waited. The procession turned the other way and walked towards the small chapel and the crematorium. I hurried to catch up and Ellis ran behind.
My heart raced as they marched on towards the chapel. It was clear that they were going to cremate her. Finally, my temper erupted.
“Stop! Stop!”
I waved my hands and stood in front of John Baxter. He replied quietly.
“Move out of the way, Virginia. It’s what she wanted.”
I felt the weight of the day in my chest as the grief overcame me.
“No. She wanted to be buried with my father. She sent me a letter. She had it all paid for. The plot was paid for and arranged. You can’t burn her. She wanted to be with my father.”
I looked around at the huge crowd. Ellis stood beside me and held my hand. People began to whisper to each other and my children looked at the ground. The fuse was alight and now no one could stop it.
“Oh yes. Yes. Go on. All chatter away. Look embarrassed, the mad, secular daughter stopping the funeral procession. My mother wanted to be buried, not cremated.”
John smiled.
“How do you know, Virginia? When did you last see her? That letter was written over a year ago. We discussed this at length. She was married to me. Me. Not your father. She was my
wife. We agreed things together, as a couple. And she told me she wished to be cremated. Now move aside.”
I heard his words and somehow they sounded reasonable. He knew that I couldn’t argue with him. I stepped to one side and the procession continued. Ellis and I fell in step at the rear and stood at the back of the chapel as her coffin was loaded for dispatch. There were no words, and a gentle Bach melody played in the background as the theatrical curtain closed around my mother’s life. I ran outside and stood still, staring at the chimney until wisps of smoke appeared. Somehow, I felt an affinity with her for a moment, as if we had both been duped by John Baxter. It was over. I had survived my mother’s funeral.
Ellis stood beside me as we watched the mourners file out of the chapel. Shiralee looked at me and smiled. Jupiter frowned relentlessly. Swiss Steve was crying. I checked myself. Yes. Swiss Steve was actually crying. Tears ran down his face as he walked away towards the village. Ellis had clearly caught wind of Swiss Steve’s tears.
“Did you see that? He actually had a feeling for someone other than himself.”
I watched as John Baxter sauntered behind my family followed by the police. DI Payne beckoned us onwards.
“Shall we go, El? I mean, it’s not as if we’re welcome, is it?”
He dug his hands deep into his pockets.
“We can. But wouldn’t it be rude to just shoot off? We should just go and say goodbye, at least.”
We followed the crowd who were heading for the local pub. I could see the cottage in the distance, a chocolate box affair of stone walls and thatches, with a tea-rose arch and fence. The familiar feeling of dread whizzed into my heart until I realised that there were no parents anymore. No upper tier to oppress me. Who could I castigate now when I was feeling like a little girl? Who would I blame for all the ills of the world? I was an eternal grown-up. No one would stoke my hair and hope for the best for me. Not that they ever did, chirped my negativity in the background.
DI Payne waited outside the pub with Mr Smith. The armed police seemed to have been stood down now and the helicopter had apparently returned to base. Ellis and I entered and surveyed the scene. It all looked the same as the last time I had been here seven years ago. Ellis smiled.
