by Ann Purser
Now she fumbled in her pocket for a tissue, and watched the procession reach the chancel steps. The undertakers gently lowered the coffin, and the mourners filled the front pews. Sharon recognized Sandy’s mother and gulped. It was so sad, sadder than anything she’d ever read. And nothing properly sorted out yet. She still woke in the night from terrifying nightmares. No happy ending to this one. She mopped her eyes and turned to her tall, silent neighbour. A military man, she saw, and wearing one of those funny caps with brims that come down over their noses. She couldn’t see his eyes as he turned to look at her, but felt a sudden start of apprehension.
Then he smiled slightly, showing discoloured teeth.
Sharon screamed, a loud echoing scream that reached the vaulting and the altar and penetrated even the closed coffin, though Sandy Mackerras was beyond hearing.
OUTSIDE THE CHURCH, CURIOUS ONLOOKERS WERE still there, waiting to see the mourners emerge in distress on their way to the churchyard. Much sooner than expected, the church door was flung open and a soldier in a smart uniform ran out at the double, down the path towards them. But just before he reached them, a man in a good grey suit stepped out from behind a tombstone and blocked his way.
“Ah, there you are, Cockshutt,” they heard him say, and then a police car drew up, and they watched him being led away, cursing and shouting.
“What did he say?” said a woman to her friend.
“I think he said, ‘Sod off, Cowgill! I’ll get that bugger Stan if it’s the last thing I do!’ I think that’s what he said,” she nodded.
“Blimey,” was the reply. “Best funeral we’ve been to!”
POSTSCRIPT
FOR SALE NOTICES WENT UP OUTSIDE THE SHOP soon after the funeral, and Derek came home after celebrating his football team’s triumph to find Lois and Gran setting the table for tea.
“Why the extra place?” he said. He could definitely see one more than usual. He blinked, to make sure. After all, he’d been careful to watch the pints.
“Josie’s coming,” Gran said. “Lois and me and her are having a planning meeting.”
“A what?” said Derek, with sinking heart.
Lois smiled at him. “Go and get washed, love,” she said. “All will be revealed.”
She was being much too nice to him, and he frowned. “What’re you lot up to?” he said.
At that moment, his daughter Josie breezed in through the door, bringing light and sunshine and melting away any suspicious thoughts he had had. “Hi, Dad!” she said. “Has Mum told you? We’re taking on the village shop, we three together,” and she put her arms round Gran’s and Lois’s shoulders.
Three faces beamed at him, and he knew he hadn’t a cat’s chance in hell of opposing them.
“Right,” he said. “Gel the kettle on, Gran. And make the tea good and strong.”
