Strange Sally Diamond(55)

I asked Sue to come with me. She offered to drive. She was on her long summer holidays from teaching and an overnight in Dublin was exactly what she needed. She said that she would deliver me to the church and then go off to meet her cousin. The day after the funeral she would collect me from Aunt Christine’s and we could go on that shopping spree we had talked about in Dundrum. She said we could have our lunch there and then get straight on to the motorway afterwards and come home. I could bring earplugs for the noise, and we could go to the shopping centre first thing, before there were too many people around.

Sue picked me up from my house early on the Monday morning of the funeral. I was wearing my funeral outfit, the same one I had worn to my dad’s funeral.

‘Sally, please don’t be offended, but the red glittery hat? It’s not quite right,’ Sue said.

‘What? But Dad said I should wear it on special occasions.’

‘I think he might have meant festive occasions, like wedding or party celebrations. It’s not the right tone for a funeral.’

‘But several people commented on how they liked it at Dad’s funeral. Was everyone lying to me? Why would they lie?’

‘Nobody wants to upset the chief mourner. Because of what happened with the incineration, everyone was probably delighted that the hat was a distraction? As far as I can tell, few people knew you well enough to say anything.’

I felt a flush creep up my neck. ‘Do you think people were laughing at me?’

‘No, but it is a little bit odd.’

‘I am a little bit odd.’

‘When we go shopping tomorrow, we’ll pick out clothes mindfully.’

‘Mindfully?’

‘Yes,’ she said.

Sue accompanied me into the church. We were a little late. It was more than half full of people. She advised me not to look at anyone but to go straight up to the front pew and stand beside Aunt Christine. She left then, saying she would collect me at Aunt Christine’s in the morning. I had taken a tablet to deal with the strangers. Angela warned me that, in this case, I must not do anything to cause Aunt Christine any distress. It was better for me to be subdued. She was only giving me tablets these days on rare occasions.

Aunt Christine greeted me with a warm hug, which I was able to return. She introduced me to Donald’s sister, Lorraine. Aunt Christine and Lorraine were weeping. The coffin was on the altar with a photograph of Donald on top. He was an old man with a jowly face. I did not turn around to look at all the people behind me but listened to the vicar talk about Donald’s life in between all the mumbled prayers.

I perked up a little when she said that he liked to play jazz piano. Aunt Christine hadn’t ever mentioned him playing the piano but they had one in their house. I had played it.

I zoned out again then. Lorraine was rigid in her expensive-looking black coat. Aunt Christine repeatedly blew her nose into her handkerchief and seemed at one stage to be almost choking on her tears. I did what I saw on television and put my hand on hers and she grasped at it. I let her.

At the end of the ceremony, the vicar said that all the mourners were invited back to Christine’s house after the burial. Aunt Christine, Lorraine and I followed the coffin down the central aisle to the doors where the undertakers lifted it into a waiting hearse. I kept my eyes down. Way too many people. Outside, Aunt Christine and Lorraine were surrounded by other mourners. I felt stifled and retreated back towards the door of the church and was surprised to see Mark there, in a black suit and tie.

‘Hi, Sally.’

‘What are you doing here?’ I asked.

‘Anubha told me you were coming up for the funeral. I thought you might need some support.’

‘But … how … did you take time off work? Sue drove me here.’

‘You should have asked me.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know … I – I wanted to be here for you.’

I was confused but grateful in this sea of strangers. Aunt Christine called me over to introduce me to some people. Mark grabbed my hand. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

‘Yes please.’

I introduced Mark to Aunt Christine, but in the melee of people trying to offer condolences, it wasn’t possible to explain properly.

‘Would you like me to come back to the house afterwards?’ said Mark, as I was being hustled into the car with Aunt Christine and Lorraine to go to the graveyard. I gave him the address and he said he’d see me there in an hour. He had driven all the way.

Few people came to the grave so that was more manageable for me. In the funeral car on the way back to the house, Aunt Christine asked who my friend was.

‘That’s Mark. He moved to Carricksheedy a few months ago, I think. I hope it’s okay that I invited him back to your house?’

‘That’s fine. Are you … in a relationship?’

‘No, not at all, he’s a friend.’

Lorraine sniffed. ‘He must be a very good friend to drive all the way here to come to the funeral of someone he’s probably never heard of.’

Lorraine didn’t like me, I could tell. I don’t know why. I tried to put myself in her shoes. Who was I to her? The adopted niece of her sister-in-law who had no relationship with her deceased brother. She probably knew all about my background. She probably knew that I’d tried to cremate my dad.