The Grace Girls

by Geraldine O'Neill

  Chapter 53

  The village of Rowanhill poured into the church on the first Thursday in January to pay their last respects to Gerry Stewart. Heather had been up since eight o’clock although the Mass didn’t start until eleven. She’d sat up talking to her mother and Kirsty about the Gerry situation again until eleven o’clock the night before, and then she went to bed feeling exhausted. She’d slept fitfully, but had definitely had more sleep than she’d had the last few nights. The long chat she’d had with Claire had somehow made her feel a little bit better, and she knew that if she could just get through the next few hours things might start to get back to normal.

  Kirsty had had to go into work in the chemist’s, but they said she could have the time off for the funeral and go back in after lunch, which was decent of them. She said she would leave half an hour before the Mass to give her time to get changed into her best black clothes and walk down to church with the rest of the family.

  Around nine o’clock Mona appeared at the door with her arms folded high over her chest and her jaw set in stone.

  ‘I thought I’d call round to see how you were feelin’ after yesterday,’ she said when Heather answered the door. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d still be in your sick bed.’

  ‘I’m a bit better, thanks,’ Heather said as they walked into the kitchen. ‘I’m still a wee bit shaky but I’m a lot better than yesterday.’

  ‘So what exactly happened?’ Mona asked, although there was more of an agitated angry edge to her voice than concern.

  Sophie, hearing the voices, came downstairs in her dressing-gown. She knew that Heather wouldn’t be up to dealing with her aunt’s awkwardness this morning. She’d hoped to be up and in her funeral clothes before her sister-in-law came round, but Mona’s disapproval about her state of undress was the last thing on her mind this morning. Sophie had also had a bad night, going over all the things the girls had told her last night about Gerry and his carry-on. She’d had no idea what Heather had been putting up with, and how Christmas and New Year had been wasted for her with the strain of worrying when he would turn up and in what state.

  ‘Why on earth didn’t you tell your daddy?’ she’d asked Heather in a shocked voice. ‘He’d have gone up to see him and sorted it all out.’ She paused, thinking. ‘Maybe none of this would have happened if you’d –’ And then she stopped, seeing the pained look on Heather’s face.

  ‘It wasn’t my fault . . . I tried everything I could,’ Heather whispered.

  ‘I know, I know,’ Sophie said. ‘I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Anyway, a lot of these things are down to fate . . . and an accident is an accident.’

  Heather looked at Mona now, and tried not to feel all defensive. ‘I just wasn’t feeling well – I was all dizzy and weak and then I fainted in the office.’

  ‘So it was really just a faint?’ Mona said, her eyebrows raised in surprise. They were all standing in the kitchen now, as though they were somehow afraid to sit in the chairs as they usually did. ‘I thought it was somethin’ far more serious, with the emergency phone call and all of that.’

  Heather went over to the sink and started washing the mugs and plates that had been used this morning. She needed to concentrate on something because she could feel that the conversation was heading in the wrong direction. She really was not in the frame of mind for Mona’s interrogation and her head was still fuzzy and achy from yesterday.

  ‘She banged her head when she fell,’ Sophie chipped in quickly. ‘And it wasn’t just one faint, she kept going in and out of it. Her boss and all the people at work were very worried about her. She definitely wasn’t fit to be in work or to travel home on the train.’

  ‘Well, we all thought it was something a lot more serious,’ Mona repeated, her jaw getting tight again. ‘It all seemed very dramatic, especially with the phone call to Father Finlay . . .’

  Heather felt herself becoming more and more annoyed as she listened to her aunt. She was scrubbing the mugs so hard that the painted flowers that decorated them were in fear of being completely scrubbed away.

  Sophie knew that the bit about the priest was rankling most with Mona and she was prepared for it. ‘We needed to be told and there was no one else Claire could phone,’ she stated, watching Mona flinch as she said Claire’s name. ‘In cases like that most people phone the Chapel House. The alternative would have been the police or the doctor.’

  ‘I would have preferred if the doctor had been phoned,’ Mona said. Her arms were still folded tightly, her fingers digging into the fleshy part at the top of her arms. ‘I would have preferred anybody bein’ phoned instead of Lady Muck usin’ the priest and me as an answerin’ service . . .’ She took a deep breath, determined to have her say. ‘If it had been me, I’d sooner have walked it home from Glasgow to Rowanhill than set foot in her Protestant house. I wouldn’t have gone near it supposing I’d had to crawl home on my hands and knees.’

  Heather whirled around, unable to listen to any more. ‘Well, that’s the difference between us, isn’t it?’ she said, her eyes burning with rage. ‘I was grateful to go out to Claire’s house and it was just common sense for me to go there because I was already in Glasgow. There was nobody else I knew that I could have gone to.’ She fleetingly thought of her fair-weather friend Sarah who had offered to have her out in her house in Govanhill, but there was no way that Mona was going to find out about that.

  Mona’s face was stony-grey. Never had either of Sophie’s girls dared to answer her back in such a manner. They had occasionally disagreed with her, but they had done it in a polite and inoffensive way – or in Kirsty’s case, she would have turned the disagreement into a joke.

  ‘Claire was more than happy to do whatever she could to help,’ Heather went on, deliberately not looking at her mother. She knew Sophie would be making faces and trying to quieten her down. ‘It made sense for me to go out to Claire and Andy’s, and I’m very grateful to them for making me so welcome.’ She paused, looking Mona straight in the eye. ‘And she made my daddy and Kirsty welcome too.’

  ‘Well,’ Mona said, making for the hallway now, ‘ye’re all easy pleased and ye all have short memories. I’m surprised at your father . . . but then I suppose that Pat would have been the same. No backbone.’

  ‘As far as I’m concerned,’ Heather continued, her tone and manner defiant, ‘I think something good came out of me fainting yesterday. It gave me and Kirsty a chance to get to know our Auntie Claire and her husband – and we both think they’re lovely. They’re nice decent people who wouldn’t be the kind to run other people down or stick knives in their backs. And they have a beautiful big house that Andy works very hard for – and Claire has it spotless and perfect.’

  Mona made a loud snorting noise, almost like the sound a horse would make. ‘I’m surprised that one would dirty her hands with housework, and I’m sure she was delighted getting the chance to show off her ill-gotten gains. To show off all that she got for marrying an oul’ relic nearly twenty years older than her.’

  Heather turned back to the sink, her hands squeezing and twisting the dishcloth tightly under the soapy water. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and yet she shouldn’t have been surprised because when she was riled, Mona was capable of anything.

  ‘Now, you know the age gap’s not that big,’ Sophie said in a low voice, terrified in case a full-blown row broke out this morning of all mornings, ‘and there’s nothing to be gained from running them down like that. They were very good to Heather yesterday, and the way everybody had cut them off, we had no right to expect anything.’

  ‘Oh, they’ll be glad to creep back into the good books, I can see it all now,’ Mona said, raising her eyes to heaven. ‘And Claire Grace has been very clever – very cute – trying to get back in with the younger more innocent ones. She did the very same comin’ to the hospital to see our Lily.’ She pulled a face now, the way children did when they were arguing. ‘Oh, she came into the hospital all dressed
to the last with her la-di-da ways of goin’ on, and handin’ out expensive presents that she hoped would impress us all.’

  Heather half-turned around, feeling that Mona’s rantings didn’t deserve her complete attention. ‘Well, I think Claire was just being generous and kind,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘It was really nice of her, and Lily was pleased with the present – it really cheered her up.’

  ‘Oh, ye’re all easily codded,’ Mona said, looking very sceptical, ‘especially all the young ones among ye . . . It’s Claire this an’ Claire that.’ She looked at Sophie now. ‘She’s some company for your daughters – she’s a fine one to be held up as an example. You can take my word on it, Sophie – if she gets accepted back into this family with her Godless husband we’ll all rue the day. We’ll never be able to say a word to our families again. If we condone what Claire Grace has done we’ll answer for it later.’

  ‘I don’t think you should be saying things like that,’ Heather snapped. She was fed up with this bossy interfering aunt who felt she could say whatever she wanted and that everyone would just take it.

  ‘That’s enough now,’ Sophie warned in a firm tone, looking from her daughter to her sister-in-law. Things were getting very out of hand. She’d never heard Heather standing up for her views like this before. ‘Today’s not the day for this kind of talk. We have a funeral in a short while . . .’

  But Heather couldn’t stop herself now. She whirled right around to face her aunt again. ‘Well, I think the trouble you’re causing is far worse!’ she threw at Mona. ‘I think stirring up all this spite and holding grudges is far worse than anything Claire has done.’

  Mona gave a big sigh and shook her head. ‘Now, d’you see what I mean, Sophie? It’s startin’ already and that’s after only one visit.’

  After Mona had left, there was an uneasy silence between mother and daughter, both wishing that Mona had never come round. They had been handling things reasonably fine this morning until she came on the scene.

  At twenty to eleven Fintan came downstairs in his dark suit and black tie and Sophie, Heather and Kirsty Grace put on their black coats and gloves and pinned their black lace mantillas on their heads, then they set off for the church.

  On the way up, Sophie took Heather’s and squeezed it tightly. ‘You’ll be fine,’ she told her. ‘And you’ve done all the right things – nobody can say a word about you.’

  Heather looked at her mother and gave a sad weary sigh.

  Kirsty gripped her other hand. ‘My mammy’s right, just keep going the way you have and you’ll be fine.’ She gave a little teasing smile meant to gee her sister up a bit. ‘And we’ve all made sure you’ve had plenty of toast this morning, so you’ve no excuse for fainting.’

  ‘And if we come across Mona,’ Sophie advised, ‘just keep your ears and your mouth closed. Don’t let her upset you in any way. I’ve already told her I don’t want to hear anything more today.’

  ‘Was she in this morning already?’ Kirsty asked. She had come rushing in at the last minute with just time to get changed and out.

  Heather nodded her head but said nothing.

  Our Lady’s Catholic Church was a sea of black suits on the men’s side and black coats and hats or mantillas or headscarves on the other. Fintan spotted Pat and the boys in a centre pew and went to join them while the three females slid into a pew up in the front third of the church.

  Heather kept her gaze straight ahead, knowing that people would be looking at her and talking and saying that she’d been Gerry’s girlfriend. They would be watching to see how she reacted or didn’t react at various points throughout the proceed­ings.

  She felt she had no more tears left as she had cried her heart out the last few nights and then again with Claire yesterday afternoon. But the tears hadn’t helped. She still felt shocked to the core about Gerry’s death. The untimely death of a young fit man. The death that was so, so unnecessary.

  Liz and Jim came in with Jim’s parents and went up the centre of the aisle to sit just behind the immediate family on either side. Whether they spotted Heather or not, they gave no sign of having seen her as they passed by her pew.

  From where she was sitting she could see the front row and the back of Mrs Stewart’s head as she sat in her dark coat and hat between Gerry’s two sisters. His father was on the opposite side, looking as if he had somehow shrunk inside his heavy black woollen coat. The priest came out on the altar and after that things went into automatic pilot as she joined in with the rest of the congregation in the ritual of the Latin Mass she had attended with her family since she was a baby.

  When the Mass and the funeral service were all over the mourners crowded in the churchyard and waited in silence while the coffin was lifted into the hearse, and the wreathes and flowers were all placed around it.

  As the crowd started to fall into place behind the hearse, Heather saw Mrs Stewart looking around and knew instinctively that she was looking for her.

  ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ she told the others and went over to the stricken woman.

  ‘Will you and your mammy and daddy come back to the chapel hall for a wee cup of tea with us when the men go on to the graveyard?’ Mrs Stewart said in a croaky voice. Her eyes looked dark and hollow, evidence of the sleepless nights since New Year’s Day. The tradition in the village was that the men followed immediately behind the hearse with the women coming after them. They would walk for half a mile or so after the hearse and then the men would get into cars and go to the graveyard while the women went back home or to the chapel hall depending on the size of the crowd expected for the customary tea and sandwiches.

  Heather and Kirsty had planned to slip away from the crowd as the funeral group passed the top of their road, but now Gerry’s mother had asked them all back she couldn’t possibly refuse. ‘Thanks for asking us,’ she said, squeezing the older woman’s hands.

  ‘He would have wanted you there,’ Mrs Stewart said, her voice crumbling away in sorrow.

  Even with the most enormous effort to hold them back, two great tears slid down Heather Grace’s face.

  The church hall was set out with several large trestle tables laid out end to end at the top of the hall, covered in white paper tablecloths and laden with the usual fresh sandwiches and rolls cut in half and hot sausage rolls, bridies and traditional Scottish mutton pies. There was also heavy fruit cake slices and a variety of cakes and meringues for afterwards. Several of the Catholic Mothers’ Union were on hand to man the tea urns and replenish the food when necessary. Two men from the St Vincent De Paul were in the small ante-room at the side serving whiskey and sherry, and because of the cold day they were offering to make cups of hot sweet toddy for anyone who needed warming up.

  There were smaller tables along the sides of the hall where people could take their plates and cups of tea and sit in the warmth and relative comfort of the wooden hall chairs. Kirsty had decided at the last minute to accompany her parents and Heather to the chapel hall. ‘Och, I might as well if you’re all going,’ she told Heather. ‘I’ll only have to go home and make myself something to eat anyway before going back to work.’

  Whilst in a way it did suit her, Kirsty also felt that Heather could do with a bit of back-up just in case anybody said anything to her. She wasn’t sure who might actually say anything, but she supposed Mona was a likely suspect given the snippets of the conversation that Heather had told her this morning.

  ‘Have you seen Liz about?’ Heather whispered to Kirsty as they went to sit down at an empty table. Sophie was over in a corner chatting to a couple of women from Cleland she hadn’t met up with for ages, while she waited for Fintan to come back from the graveyard with the other men. ‘I haven’t seen her since we were in the chapel.’

  ‘No, I haven’t seen her either,’ Kirsty said, looking around now. She scanned the groups at the tables and those coming in the door then she shrugged. ‘Maybe she went straight home.’

  ‘I was sure s
he was taking the full day off work,’ Heather mused. ‘Maybe she’s gone off somewhere with Jim and his mother and father, although I’m sure Jim will have gone to the graveyard.’

  ‘They’re like flamin’ Siamese twins at the minute,’ Kirsty said, rolling her eyes. ‘Liz isn’t lettin’ him out of her sight. I think she’s terrified he might change his mind.’

  ‘Shush, you!’ Heather told her, her eyes glinting with annoyance. ‘Somebody might hear you.’

  ‘They know already,’ Kirsty said. ‘Some of the women were asking me in the chemist’s this morning about them getting engaged. They were hinting the way they usually do when they think there’s more to it – asking did I know if they’d set a date and that kind of thing.’

  ‘Did you say anything?’

  ‘What do you think?’ Kirsty said, sighing and raising her eyebrows. She turned away, shaking her head, then she turned back quickly hissing, ‘Don’t look now, but here comes Mona like a ship in full sail with that big black hat.’

  Normally Heather would have tittered and laughed along with her sister, but she could find precious little to laugh about at the moment. She just wanted this awful day to be over and done with, and then she might be able to think about normal things again.

  ‘Well, girls,’ Mona said, coming over to them now, carrying a cup of tea and a plate of sandwiches and sausage rolls, ‘isn’t this a terrible sad business? A young fella in the prime of his life as well.’ She put her things on the table and then pulled out a chair to sit beside them, obviously having put the morning’s disagree­ments behind her.

  ‘It’s terrible,’ Kirsty said, taking a bit out of a warm bridie. ‘I feel really sorry for poor Mrs Stewart . . .’

  ‘God love her, the poor woman,’ Mona agreed. She stirred her tea now, looking very thoughtful. ‘It was maybe just as well you’d broken up with Gerry,’ she said to Heather, ‘it would have been terrible if you’d been in the same boat as your good pal, Liz.’