A Time to Tell

by Maria Savva

  Cara had not expected to see so many people in attendance at the funeral; there were at least fifty people at the church by the time they arrived. She did not recognise anyone, apart from Jemima, and Margaret’s parents. It was proof of the sorry fact that she hadn’t seen Margaret for over ten years; their mutual friends were no longer the people who had been important in Margaret’s life.

  ‘Nan, will you be all right sitting on your own for a minute?’ asked Penelope. ‘I just want to let Jemima know we’re here.’

  ‘All right, dear.’ Cara sat quietly in the dimly-lit church.

  A large middle-aged woman with dyed blonde hair, seated in front of her, chatted to a grey-haired man who appeared overwrought with grief: ‘I’ll miss her,’ said the woman.

  The man blew his nose.

  ‘We’re all thinking of you, Eric; our prayers are with you. It’s a terrible loss, but I believe Maggie is here watching us, and she wouldn’t want you to be sad.’

  Eric nodded and the woman took his hand. ‘I remember one day when we were talking about a relative of mine who’d passed away,’ she said, ‘and I’ll never forget what Maggie said to me; it stayed with me. Maggie said, “We should celebrate the lives of those who’ve gone, rather than mourning them.” At the time, I thought she was just trying to find some way of comforting me, but later it struck me that there’s so much truth there, isn’t there? I mean, we’re all going to die one day. Maggie was very positive about that sort of thing. I remembered those words when I heard she had passed, and it helped me. Made me smile.’

  ‘Maggie always found the right words to say,’ said Eric, sniffling.

  ‘She was such a lovely woman. She’d wish you all the happiness you deserve,’ said the woman.

  ‘Thank you, Glenys,’ he said.

  Cara took a tissue from her bag and wiped her eyes.

  A young woman with curly brown hair scurried over to Glenys and Eric. ‘Hello,’ she said, worry lines etched into her brow.

  ‘Hello, Julia,’ said Eric. ‘Thank you for coming.’

  ‘Eric, how are you?’

  ‘Trying to put one foot in front of the other, take one day at a time,’ he replied.

  ‘I’m so sorry. It must be hard.’ She touched his shoulder. ‘I’ve been speaking to Jemima. She’s dealing with it all very well, considering.’

  ‘She’s been great. I don’t know what I would have done without her,’ said Eric. ‘She’s been a great help, looking after Maggie towards the end. I couldn’t bear to see her so ill.’

  ‘Our thoughts are with you, Eric. It happened at the worst time, but you must focus on the future. Maggie wouldn’t want you to mourn. She’d want you to be happy.’ She sat next to him.

  ‘Yes, that’s what I said,’ said Glenys.

  Who is this man? wondered Cara, noticing how everyone was so worried about him.

  ‘But I can’t help asking myself why. Why Maggie? She was so young… And why now? We had such plans…’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘Don’t upset yourself, Eric,’ said Glenys.

  He blew his nose. ‘It was so good of you to come over from Jersey,’ he said to Julia.

  ‘Maggie was a very popular woman,’ she replied. ‘When I worked for her at the florist’s I noticed how she had this gift for making friends with everyone. Most of her customers became her friends. I recognise a few of them here; they’ve all flown over from Jersey to be here.’

  ‘I really should go and sit with her parents,’ said Eric. ‘It’s so sad. I’ve never even met them. I’d been looking forward to meeting them; they were planning to come over next month to help with the preparations for the wedding. Life can be so unfair. The first time I meet my fiancée’s parents is at her funeral.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll see you both later.’ His face was drawn, greyer than the weather.

  Cara wiped a tear from her eye. She watched as he approached Margaret’s parents and shook their hands.

  Cara recalled meeting Margaret’s parents at Benjamin and Margaret’s wedding. How different the circumstances were today. She felt pained seeing them in tears at their daughter’s funeral, remembering her own unbearable torment when she’d thought Benjamin might be dead, during the lost years. The way she’d dealt with the trauma was by telling herself he was still alive. She watched these two parents sitting next to their daughter’s coffin and did not even want to begin to imagine the despair they were feeling. Should she go and speak to them? What could she say? There were no words that could help.

  Penelope returned and sat next to her. ‘I didn’t get to speak to Jemima—there are so many people here—but I waved to her so she knows we’re here.’

  ‘All right, dear.’ Cara noticed the sad faces around her. Margaret had touched so many people’s lives.

  Eric took his seat on the bench in front of them. Cara whispered into Penelope’s ear: ‘This man was your mother’s fiancé.’

  Penelope’s eyes widened.

  ‘Maggie’s parents are devastated,’ said Eric to Glenys and Julia. ‘I didn’t know what to say to them.’

  ‘You have to try to take comfort from the positive things, Eric,’ said Glenys. ‘Maggie loved you. She lived a full life and found true happiness with you. Some people may live to old age and never be truly happy.’

  ‘But it’s all so unfair,’ said Eric. ‘Maggie had another daughter too, you know; she hadn’t seen her for over ten years. She talked about her all the time, and she wanted to get in touch with her. We were going to invite her to the wedding so it could be a starting point for them to get to know each other again. Instead Jemima had to invite her to the funeral.’

  Penelope’s mouth opened in surprise as she listened to Eric. She turned to Cara, tears in her eyes.

  Cara held her hand.

  After the ceremony, the congregation made their way out of the church and into their cars for the journey to the cemetery. Margaret was to be buried in the same cemetery as Billy.

  The cars moved slowly behind the black hearse along the busy London streets. Outside, people were laughing, running, talking, as they got on with their daily lives, oblivious of the black funeral cars passing them by. Cara felt encapsulated in a different world sitting in the car following the funeral procession. Laughter didn’t exist here. Only gloom could be found.

  The cemetery looked like an abandoned wasteland when the funeral party arrived. For miles around there were only rows and rows of headstones in all shapes and sizes, many adorned with photographs: the faces of people who were once as alive as those who were filing out of their cars and walking along the gravel path. Flowers, candles, cards and such, were strewn on graves marking the resting places of people who were once so important to someone but were now only memories.

  The procession of mourners all dressed in black, walked towards the site that had been marked out for Margaret, about one hundred yards from the spot where Billy was buried.

  Cara listened to the sound of the crunch of the mourners’ shoes as they walked on the coarse ground. There was no other noise, as if they were the only survivors on a barren planet. She glanced over in the direction of Billy’s grave, as Penelope pushed the wheelchair along the path. Cara gasped as she spotted somebody sitting on the bench next to the grave. She blinked and strained her eyes to try to see who it could be. ‘Penny,’ she said, ‘there’s someone sitting on Billy’s bench.’

  ‘Probably someone just resting their legs. Oh no, it’s… what’s he doing here?’ Penelope sounded agitated.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘My dad.’

  ‘Ben?’ Cara said in surprise.

  ‘How dare he come here?’ Penelope huffed.

  They reached the spot where Margaret was to be buried. The congregation gathered around as the coffin was placed on the ground. The priest started reading the service.

  Cara’s mind was elsewhere. Why had Benjamin turned up here? How did he know about the funeral? The thought suddenly occurred to her that he, too, would have received the results of
the paternity test today. Maybe he came here to confront her, angry she had lied to him for all these years. However, gazing out at the crowd of people standing at the graveside, all with dejected and tear-stained faces, she became aware that this was not the time to think of her own problems.

  It began to drizzle.

  On the other side of the grave, Jemima wept, holding tightly to a little girl. A young man had his arms around Jemima. Cara presumed he must be her husband.

  She could hear Penelope crying behind her. Her heart felt heavy as she listened to her granddaughter’s sniffles. Cara watched as Eric threw a black rose into the grave after the coffin had been lowered; he fell to his knees in tears. Another man comforted him. Then she saw Penelope go to the graveside, holding the velvet box containing the gold cross engraved with Margaret’s name.

  Penelope dropped the box into the grave and wiped her eyes on the sleeves of her coat before returning to Cara. The rain persisted, as if the angels were also grieving.

  The ceremony over, the crowd slowly dispersed back to waiting cars. The rain was getting heavier.

  Penelope opened her umbrella over the wheelchair.

  Cara and Penelope stayed there for a while longer, watching as everyone said their last goodbyes.

  Jemima approached them, with her daughter. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk to you at the church; there were a lot of people.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Penelope.

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ said Jemima, as though she were talking to strangers.

  Cara felt sad realising that in many ways they were strangers.

  ‘This must be Georgia,’ said Cara, smiling at the child.

  ‘Yes,’ said Jemima, her expression becoming brighter. ‘Yes,’ she said again. Then: ‘Georgia, this is your great-grandmother, Cara. Say hello.’

  ‘Hello,’ said the girl, shyly.

  ‘Hello, dear, it’s lovely to meet you.’

  ‘And this is your Aunty Penny.’

  ‘Hello, Georgia; don’t you look pretty in your dress?’ said Penelope.

  ‘I’m going to have to go, I’m afraid,’ said Jemima. ‘Mike, my husband, is waiting in the car, but please keep in touch.’ She held a piece of paper towards Penelope. ‘This is my address and telephone number in Jersey.’

  Penelope took the paper from her.

  Jemima started to walk away.

  ‘Hello,’ said a voice from behind them. Benjamin. ‘Jemima, wait,’ he said.

  She turned around.

  ‘I knew it was you,’ he said to her. ‘You always did look so much like your mother.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Jemima took a step towards him, but her eyes were narrowed in apprehension.

  Cara looked at Penelope and saw her face was flushed.

  ‘I’m your dad.’ He smiled.

  Jemima raised her eyebrows; she did not seem angry, more shocked.

  ‘Wh-what are you do-doing here?’ she stammered.

  ‘I came to pay my respects.’

  ‘Respect!’ Penelope could no longer keep control of her temper. As she turned to face him, she automatically rotated the wheelchair in that direction.

  Cara could now see his face. He glanced at her and she saw his dismay at Penelope’s reaction: his eyes were wide, his mouth open.

  ‘Why do you care if she’s dead? You thought she was dead sixteen years ago, but you wouldn’t have tried to come to her funeral then. Oh, sorry, you couldn’t have because you would have been done for murder, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Penny,’ said Cara. ‘Please calm down.’

  ‘I can’t change what happened,’ said Benjamin. ‘When I heard she died, I wanted to come here to make sure you and Jemima were all right.’

  Jemima was staring at him.

  Georgia was holding tightly to her mother.

  ‘All I want is a chance to make up for everything. I’m still your dad. You can’t change that,’ he said calmly.

  ‘We know we can’t, unfortunately,’ said Penelope. ‘If only we could.’

  ‘Penny dear, there’s no need—’ began Cara.

  ‘He shouldn’t be here,’ Penelope insisted.

  ‘Let’s all go home where we can talk sensibly,’ said Cara. ‘Let’s get out of the rain.’

  ‘Yes, we need to talk,’ agreed Benjamin.

  ‘We’ll go back to Penny’s house,’ said Cara.

  ‘All right, give me the address and I’ll meet you there,’ he said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  ‘I thought Dad was missing,’ said Jemima, who’d been very quiet since the meeting with Benjamin.

  ‘He was,’ said Penelope. ‘But Nan met him again a few months ago. I didn’t want to have anything to do with him, though.’

  ‘Penny, can we go and see Billy’s grave before we leave?’ asked Cara.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’ll just go and tell Mike he can leave, I’ll be back soon,’ said Jemima. She led Georgia by the hand.

  Penelope pushed the wheelchair towards Billy’s grave.

  ‘Sit down, dear,’ said Cara.

  ‘The bench is wet, Nan.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’

  The two women remained there in silence for a while, then Penelope spoke: ‘Why did you give him my address, Nan?’

  Cara saw she was crying.

  ‘After all I’ve been through—all the violence—I wanted to get away from all that. You say he’s changed, but how do you know? I’ll probably have to move somewhere else, so he can’t find me.’

  ‘Your father loves you, he wouldn’t hurt you.’

  Penelope did not respond.

  Jemima returned a few minutes later, alone.

  ‘We’d better be going soon,’ said Cara.

  ‘I can’t bear the thought of him being in my house after what he did to Mum.’

  ‘To be honest, I can’t remember much about Dad,’ said Jemima. ‘He came across as quite genuine, though. Maybe he really regrets the way he used to behave.’

  ‘Jemima may be right,’ said Cara. ‘He has a new family, and he doesn’t drink; why don’t you give him one more chance?’

  ‘Because, I spent most of my life giving Dave “one more chance”. He never changed. I’m sorry, Nan; you and Jemima can meet Dad, but I couldn’t care less if I never see him again.’

  ‘We really should be going,’ said Cara after a few moments of silence. ‘Your father will be waiting for us.’

  ‘All the more reason to stay here,’ said Penelope. ‘With any luck he’ll get fed up waiting and he’ll go away.’

  They headed back to Penelope’s car.

  ‘It’ll soon be time to collect the boys from school,’ said Penelope, as she parked the car in Furley Avenue.

  Cara could see Benjamin outside the house.

  He approached them, smiling. ‘Hello,’ he said to Penelope as she got out of her car.

  She did not respond.

  ‘Hello, Ben,’ said Cara. ‘Have you been waiting long?’

  ‘No, I just got here.’

  Penelope avoided any conversation with him as she helped Cara out of the car, behaving as though she had not even seen him.

  Jemima smiled awkwardly as she walked past him.

  They entered the house.

  Penelope wheeled Cara’s chair into the front room and helped her onto the sofa.

  Jemima sat next to her.

  Benjamin sat opposite them on an armchair.

  ‘Right,’ said Penelope. ‘I’m going to collect my boys from school.’ Then addressing Benjamin: ‘I’ll be gone for about fifteen minutes.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, nodding.

  ‘When I get back, I expect you to have gone.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Bye, Nan, Jemima; I’ll see you later,’ she said, ignoring her father.

  ‘She hates me,’ said Benjamin, tears in his eyes, as the front door slammed shut. ‘Do you hate me, Jemima?’

  She avoided his eyes.

&
nbsp; ‘I’m a better man now; I’m ashamed of what I did. If I could turn back time, I would. I never meant to hurt you or Penny. I wanted to come here to try to explain how much pain I feel when I think you both hate me.’

  Jemima sighed. ‘I don’t hate you. To tell you the truth, I can’t remember you; I was only about eight years old when you left. Pen remembers more. She was older. But I’d say we have a right to hate you for what you did to Mum.’

  ‘It was all so long ago,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a young daughter, Amy; she’s only a few years older than your little girl. That was your daughter at the graveyard?’

  ‘Yes.’ Jemima nodded.

  ‘She looks like you at that age. Beautiful.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Jemima lowered her eyes.

  ‘Look, I really have changed,’ said Benjamin, ‘I’m a devoted dad; I wouldn’t hurt Amy, and I’ve never laid a hand on my partner, Claire.’

  ‘What you have to appreciate,’ Jemima gazed up to the ceiling as if trying to think of the right thing to say, ‘is that me and Pen only remember you from those days. Pen remembers the violence. I remember more of the effect it had on Mum. In fact, I only recognised you today because I’ve got an old photograph of you with Mum and Pen.

  ‘Mum used to have a photo album, and one day she threw away all of the pictures with you in them. She was sitting at the kitchen table, crying, and tearing out all of the pictures of you. She threw them in the bin. I rescued a few of them, because they had Pen in them; I really missed her. Mum found them one day. She was furious. She asked me where I’d found them, saying she thought she’d thrown them away. She tore them all up. I only managed to save one.’ Jemima reached over to her handbag and opened her purse. ‘I’ve always kept this in my purse.’ She took out an old black and white photograph. The edges were frayed, and it was faded in parts.

  Benjamin reached out and took it from her. He smiled and fought back tears.

  ‘What you did to Mum is unforgivable,’ continued Jemima. ‘When you turn up here asking us to welcome you with open arms, we can’t. It’s like saying it doesn’t matter what you did to her.’