Festoons of flowers decorated the interior of the chapel. As the mourners filed slowly in they added their own floral tributes, placing them on a raised dais before the pulpit. A pipe organ played the Twenty–third Psalm, as sombre-faced men in black suits guided people to their seats. It was a full house. Dozens of relatives from both sides of the family were in attendance. All of the partners and work colleagues from Mark’s accounting firm were there, along with various members of the profession. How soon we forget, thought Mark bitterly, as he peered curiously at the crowd from the church door. Only a few, short days ago, these same colleagues seemed ready to throw him to the wolves. People were still arriving, so he decided to go for a jog around the block until the service began. Further ahead of him down the street, he saw Beth’s car drive in and park. There was nothing for it but to jog by, and hope to remain unnoticed. He passed within a few feet of his family. As Beth got out of the car, he was struck by her style and beauty. How he longed to be with her. Rick turned and stared after him as he ran down the street.
“Come on, Rick.” Said Beth, “This way.”
The boy trailed after his mother, still turning occasionally to watch as the jogger receded into the distance.
Sarah was already crying softly. Looking at her mother, she envied her the little veil, perfect for hiding eyes red with weeping. If only she was more like Rick. He didn’t seem sad at all. As they neared the church they saw Helen and Chance approaching from the opposite direction. Sarah ran off to meet them. Her mother watched as Helen gave Sarah a big hug and then let her hold a willing Chance. Beth recalled how very welcome the young woman had always made her children feel and smiled. Rick too ran off, to start a rather noisy and probably inappropriate game of peek-a-boo with the delighted baby. Side by side, the two women entered the church.
A succession of people then offered their condolences to the pair. It was amusing really. Some offered their sympathies to Helen, many more to Beth. Some hedged their bets, and commiserated first with one, then with the other, just to be on the safe side. Noticing Mark’s parents arrive, Beth excused herself and went to meet them. Robert hardly acknowledged her, his expression pained and confused. Vanessa, on the other hand, was bearing-up well. She regaled Beth with a list of all the problems she’d encountered organising the service, and then with an equally long list of the clever solutions she had found. Then she began to point out various guests, name-dropping in a particularly shameless manner. However she failed to impress Beth, who had no idea, and even less interest, in who all these important people might be. Vanessa moved off to seek a more receptive audience.
The service was now about to begin. A large photo of Mark appeared, projected on the wall behind the Chaplain. The photo had been taken about ten years ago, early on in Mark’s marriage to Beth. Thick, dark hair framed his handsome, boyish features and his eyes twinkled in a slightly roguish way. He was the epitome of debonair charm. Beth was surprised to feel a tightening in her throat. This was the Mark she’d loved, before materialism stole him from her. A flood of long-buried feelings surfaced, threatening to overcome her self-control. It required all of her resolve to compose herself.
The formal part of the ceremony commenced. The mourners sang a hymn and listened to a prayer with bowed heads. By this time Mark was again standing at the back of the church. This situation was more difficult for him than he’d imagined. Fortunately the generous amount of whisky he’d swallowed earlier gave him a strong dose of Dutch courage. A Presbyterian Minister, who was unknown to him, recounted faintly amusing tales of his younger years. Mention was then made of his academic achievements and career highlights. Chance began to grizzle loudly. People turned to look, disapprovingly, but Helen failed to remove the baby from the church. The child’s cries made it difficult for Mark to hear. Thoroughly frustrated, he was tempted to move forward, but decided that it was too risky. Damn that baby! Trust Helen to spoil things for him. The Minister droned on unintelligibly. Chance howled louder. Someone else started to sob. Who was it? Craning his neck around a stone pillar, Mark finally spotted the crier. To his delight, it was Beth. His daughter, Sarah, joined in. This was terrific. Any lingering doubts about the wisdom of his plan vanished. His father also began to cry. Not soft sobbing like Beth and Sarah, but deep, pent-up wailing that vied with Chance’s cries in volume. Mark could imagine his mother digging her husband in the ribs. He knew she would be mortified at this embarrassing display of emotion. Silently he thanked his Dad.
The sermon was almost over. A large group of men, seated towards the front of the church, began to sing. Ah, thought Mark, The Welsh National Male Choir. Nice touch, Mum. The rich tones and exquisite harmonies of the choristers served to soothe the congregation. Even Chance stopped crying. Mark moved forward a little in order to see the coffin, an immense, oak sarcophagus, ornately carved, and richly inlaid with what looked like bronze. It was a closed casket, and Mark wondered if Jason’s remains were really inside, or whether there’d been next to nothing left to inter. Served him right, thought Mark again. Well, at least he’s getting a decent send-off.
A few hymns and prayers later, and the huge coffin was hoisted with difficulty onto the shoulders of six pallbearers. To the sound of solemn organ music, they slow-marched it out, destined for a private cremation. The mourners now began to leave with the immediate family moving-off first. As the Yorks filed out, Robert’s large frame was racked with sobs. Despite the risk of blowing his cover, Mark was irresistibly compelled to put a comforting hand on his father as he passed. Surprised, Robert stopped in his tracks.
“Don’t worry, Mate. He knows how much you love him,” offered Mark in a low tone, attempting to avert his face and kicking himself for his careless use of the present tense.
Robert looked intently at him.
“Did you know my son?”
“Yeah. He told me he had a great Dad.”
Unexpectedly, Robert hugged him, and without thinking he warmly returned the embrace. When they drew apart, Mark was horrified to see recognition in his father’s eyes. In a panic he pulled away, hurried out of the church, and jogged off down the street. Daring a glance over his shoulder, he saw a suddenly composed Robert staring after him. Mark was sweating profusely now. This was only partly attributable to the sultry heat. Fool, he thought. Whatever possessed him! Reaching the car, he jumped in and drove back to Jason’s. He needed time to think.
Back at the church, Vanessa was pleased to observe that Robert seemed to be more like his old self. He stood in the vestibule, graciously receiving the sympathies of his guests, engaging them with great dignity. But her relief was short-lived. When the time came for them to proceed to the crematorium, Robert refused to get into the car.
By way of explanation to his astonished wife, he only smiled and said, “Go if you wish, my Darling. You’ve worked so hard to arrange all this. But I’m afraid I won’t be joining you.”
“Why ever not?” asked Vanessa.
“Because our son is not dead,” he replied.
With that, he kissed his wife, and walked away.