last resort was the sofa in the sitting room downstairs. Somehow that felt better and less of an invasion of privacy than using one of the bedrooms. The trick would be finding useable bedding. Everything in the linen cupboard was damp and stank of old dust and decay. Edie had brought her own towels, but hadn’t thought to bring bedding. She thought briefly about shipping out to a hotel, then wondered if Lena might lend her a few sheets and a quilt. If she went to a hotel now, she might never come back and she couldn’t do that. The thought of spending any more time in the house was becoming more and more depressing. Not only was her task daunting but the place seemed to be sighing and breathing around her as if it had a life of its own, one that it had sucked from its previous residents. Grandma Beattie, Dolly and Dickie were gone, but to Edie it felt like they were still there and watching her every move.
For reasons that she couldn’t explain, but that were based on raw instinct, she was uneasy about asking Lena for help. The old lady’s censorious demeanour was liable to hook out more and more of Edie’s guilt regarding the neglect of her extended family. The state of the house alone was accusation enough and evidence that Dolly had lived and died alone and uncared for. Edie resigned herself to sleeping on the sofa in the clothes that she was wearing. An uncomfortable night seemed like small penance to pay for the years that Dolly had cared for her and Rose in the absence of their mother. Years and solicitude that had been met unequally with rejection and indifference.
As she lay on the lumpy sofa, watching the last of the evening light dwindle through the dirty window, she hoped that the funeral might offer some redemption – that laying Dolly to rest with some dignity and respect might undo the cloying sense of obligation and guilt. She would wear black as a mark of respect and hope that it wouldn’t reflect the flush of hypocrisy that was sure to creep into her skin and show her for the fraud she was.
Rose had arranged for a car, it would arrive at eleven the next day to collect her. Then she would follow the hearse carrying Dolly’s body, encased in its pine-veneered coffin and covered up in flowers. Then it would be over, and she could do what she had to do and put it all behind her – as she had with so many other things
Sleep followed on the wings of this anticipated relief and Edie relaxed into it, her inert form brushed by shadows, cast by the light of passing cars and given form and life by the ghosts of the past that resided amidst the clutter and dirt of Number 17 Coronation Square.
Edie sat in the first pew of the chapel, stiff and uncomfortable in her black suit and aware that she was the centre of attention for the small congregation. Other than Sam and Lena she knew nobody, and whilst they waited for the vicar she battled with the hypocrisy of her thoughts. If all these people had known Dolly well enough to come and pay their respects, why had she died alone in squalor? The vicar arrived, and they all stood while he led the first prayer. They sat for the eulogy, and Edie wondered whom it was that he was talking about when he referred to Dorothy, a pillar of the community and tireless charity supporter who had relentlessly collected for the local charity shops, and who would be much missed by her many friends. For a split second Edie wondered if she’d come to the wrong funeral, for surely the lily clad coffin could not contain Dolly – who had been more a pillar of salt than a pillar of the community. She shook the thought away and stood to sing the hymn that Rose had chosen – Jerusalem. As she mouthed the words, Edie considered the incongruity of the whole thing as applied to Dolly, all she could think about was Rugby and the W.I. Finally, and to her relief, the curtains slid shut and Dolly disappeared. Now all Edie had to face was the lonely walk of shame back down the aisle as she led the mourners from the chapel.
As mourners went, they seemed to be a hungry lot, most of them cheerfully seized upon the opportunity to drink tepid tea and consume limp sandwiches and dry cake in the little hall that lay to the back of the crematorium. Most of the strangers avoided her and chatted amongst themselves, occasionally shooting speculative glances in her direction. She felt both ridiculous and fraudulent in her black suit, and she was tired and achy. The night on the sofa had been dream filled, stiff and uncomfortable, the cushions had felt as if she was lying on a bag of pebbles. Edie was half convinced that Dolly had stuffed the cushions with bricks. She surreptitiously rubbed at the small of her back and returned a weak smile to Sam and Lena who were making their way towards her. They had made a beeline, but had been hampered at every step by elderly women who caught at Lena’s arm and engaged her for what seemed to Edie interminably long moments. To her relief Sam left his mother and strode over. ‘You look like you need rescuing’ he said, offering her a thimble full of weak tea.
‘Thank you, and I do, who are all these people?’ She took the tea and sipped. It was vile, lukewarm and made her wince.
Sam looked around the room. ‘Bingo and jumble sale cronies I think. A good funeral is the highlight of their week.’
‘I didn’t know Dolly was a bingo fan.’ It was true, she didn’t, but then she hadn’t known Dolly well enough to know much about her habits and hobbies.
‘I think Mum used to drag her there from time to time, not sure she was ever a fan, not like Mum, the woman is a bingo fiend.’
Edie wanted to laugh and indulge this charming man who was being so kind, but laughter at a wake seemed incongruous and rude, especially when your every move was being scrutinised. ‘Do you know who that is?’ she said, nodding towards a tall, smartly dressed middle-aged man who stood alone, looking almost as out of place as Edie felt she was. Sam followed her gaze. ‘No idea. Doesn’t look much like a bingo aficionado though.’
It was true, he didn’t. If Edie had been forced to categorise him she would have said that he looked like a policeman, or a soldier. Something about his stance – the impression that he was standing at ease, yet missing nothing – stuck her as representing something official. Her attention was pulled away from him by the arrival of Lena.
‘Bloody ghouls, not as if a one of them cared about Dolly. Makes me sick – they only come for the free food and a cup of tea. Some of ‘em want to get a life!’ Lena said it as if the cheery exchanges she had voluntarily participated in had been some kind of personal affront. It made Edie smile.
‘Well, I’m glad at least a few people came – it would have been a poor show for her if it had just been the three of us. Besides, someone has to eat all these awful sandwiches.’
Lena regarded the limp, curling egg and cress sandwich that sat sad and unappetising on the plate that she held. ‘Sausage rolls weren’t up to much either, I swear the tight buggers here use the leftovers from the last do.’
Edie nodded, ‘You’re probably right.’ She turned to find a spot where she could abandon the rancid tea and winced as the movement jarred her aching back.
‘What’s up, did you hurt yourself?’ Sam asked, a look of concern flickering across his handsome features.
Edie gave him a wan smile. ‘Oh it’s nothing, I ended up sleeping on the sofa last night. The house is pretty damp and I couldn’t find any clean bedding, I’m just a bit stiff that’s all.’ Lena had turned away, distracted by yet another mourner who ignored Edie but expressed their sorrow to the woman who had known Dolly best… yet hadn’t known when her friend lay dying, hadn’t checked on her, hadn’t spoken to her in months. It was natural that people would gravitate towards the more familiar face, Edie supposed. It was probably justified – she’d have been hard pressed to know how to react if anyone had approached her and expressed sorrow for her loss. It had been uncomfortable enough when the vicar had shaken her hand and expressed his sympathy. She cast about the room, looking for the tall stranger, but he’d gone. ‘I might ask your mum if I can borrow some bedding for tonight.’ she said absently to Sam. ‘Not
