Finding Your Way Back. Chapter four (standard:drama, 6159 words) [4/6] show all parts
Author: Cyrano	Added: May 26 2009	Views/Reads: 2216/1660	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
James prepares for the funeral. He would need support to get through the next few days.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

were exposed through speech. Friends in the hallway stood to one side 
to let him pass. They looked him in the face but his eyes were lowered 
and his solitude was the only measure of control he could rely upon. 

He climbed wearily up the stairs and then he looked over at the clothes
she had discarded at the bottom of the bed as she had dressed for 
dinner. A bundle of tights, a sweater and a crumpled skirt. Her 
nightgown was folded neatly against a pillow. He turned to look at the 
dressing table. The cosmetics, magic creams, lipsticks, perfumes, stood 
on the polished wooden surface. Lying haphazardly to his observation 
but she could choose each one unerringly with her eyes pressed closely 
together. He smiled as he pictured her. There would be no more jokes 
about applying the ‘warpaint.' She would have no more agonizing 
decisions to make about the choice of perfume. No more pursing of the 
lips in front of the mirror. No more tissues required removing smudges 
and no more preening and no more pirouettes. 

The sudden ringing of the telephone startled him. He picked up the
receiver. 

‘James,' said the voice, ‘I've a special offer of some nails at the
minute; I think you should buy a few cases. I'm giving you first 
chance. You'll never get a better offer than this, no kidding.' 

His mind went blank and he was unable to speak. The voice down the
telephone became agitated. 

‘James, it's Harry, you pillock. Did you not recognize my voice? Listen,
if you can get a pass out tomorrow, I've just got a cancellation for 
the big Pro Am. How do you fancy it? Twist her arm or promise to take 
her out or something, it's an early tee off so you won't be away all 
day. What do you think?  I'll be a great day.' 

James finally recognized the voice but was unable to speak for a few
moments. He took a deep breath. 

‘Harry, I'm sorry.' He could not continue and again he tried to speak
and whispered with a broken voice into the receiver. ‘Harry, she's just 
died.' There was silence. ‘Eileen's just ...died,' he stumbled on, 
weeping. 

‘Oh my God, I'm sorry, I didn't know. Oh my God I'm sorry. I'll go.' 

The line went dead. 

He knew he had to compose himself and telephone the news to her family.
He stared at the phone and reached out but then withdrew his hand.  He 
couldn't do it. He had to, but he couldn't. His mind went back to the 
death of his parent's five years ago. It had been much easier then. 
They were old people. They had suffered long illnesses and were 
expected to die with some time for emotional preparation. But this was 
different, with no warning. It had happened instantly, and 
shatteringly. 

He looked down with glazed eyes at the phone and deliberately punched in
the numbers, trying to steel himself for the forthcoming conversation. 
There was no immediate reply. He hoped there would be no reply... 

‘Hello,' a cheery Irish voice answered the call. 

‘Is that Brendan?'  He started off well. ‘Yes, it is an unexpected
pleasure; it's about Eileen,' he struggled to continue, and then he 
stopped. He held the receiver away from his mouth and looked down. The 
voice continued.  ‘Hello, hello, is that you James, are you still 
there? Can you hear me?' 

James put the phone to his mouth and sobbed, ‘Brendan, Eileen has just
died.' There was no reaction and even in the midst of his distress 
James could sense disbelief. ‘Yes, it was sudden, this morning, a 
massive brain hemorrhage. Well it happened last night but she passed 
away a few hours ago. Tell the rest of the family, I'll ring you later. 
Give you the details. I can't go on. Sorry.' 

He sobbed and replaced the receiver and threw himself on to the bed and
closed his eyes. An enveloping tiredness descended over him and he 
wanted to be alone. He closed his eyes and quickly fell into a deep 
sleep that brought respite from his tormented mind. 

The few days preceding the funeral passed quickly. There was much to be
organized. He knew it would be a big funeral and everyone kept telling 
him this as though it would represent some form of comfort. Any sudden 
bereavement in a small community brings that community closer together. 
Eileen was young, in her fifties. Everyone knew her and she was a 
popular and prominent player in the everyday life of the village. Older 
people, with fewer living contemporaries, usually have small funerals. 
Eileen had many friends, many customers, and she came from a large 
family. And as it was an Irish family, they took family matters of 
births, deaths and marriages very seriously indeed. 

This was the topic of discussion between James and his sister in law
Bridie as they walked arm in arm around the garden. They were the only 
two daughters in a family of six children and so Bridie and Eileen had 
a special relationship. Through marriage, they had grown apart, but 
within the last few years they had come closer again. Bridies' seven 
children had grown up, her husband Eric had recently died, and she had 
taken advantage of her new freedom to visit her younger sister on a 
regular basis. 

James was very fond of her and as she outlined her plans for the funeral
he was glad of her support. There would be a wake. When Eileen came 
home they would not let her be alone. The dining room would be prepared 
for the laying out. All the children, except those living in America 
would attend. James was not sure if this was because of maternal threat 
or freedom of choice, though he did think that they were fond of their 
Auntie Eileen. But that would be one family secret he would never get 
to know. 

Accommodation would present no problem.  Coming from a big family they
were well used to sharing and sleeping on makeshift beds. Bridie had 
worked out that there would be twenty-nine people sleeping in the house 
on the eve of the service. It was all organized and the only thing not 
resolved was the evening meal. The booze had been sorted out. This was 
coming over from Ireland. ‘Just in case,' explained Bridie. James 
turned to her and smiled and wondered what she had meant. Just in case 
we haven't enough here in England was one remote possibility. Just in 
case we don't have the right stuff was another. Just in case we all 
forget about it was beyond the realms of any possibility. He looked 
fondly at her and thought how much alike were the two sisters. 

‘I'll organize the evening meal,' said James. He had thought it would be
a good idea to have all the family eating together in his house. They 
didn't all meet up very often and so he would take advantage of this 
opportunity. And it would represent a proper and appropriate Irish send 
off for Eileen. 

‘I'll get some caterers in. We've enough space in the house and we can
borrow anything we don't have,' announced James. He was pleased with 
the idea and it would be an event to look forward to before the sadder 
events to follow. ‘As soon as we get back into the house I'll get on to 
it.' 

They stayed in the garden, pausing to sit on a small stone wall next to
the summerhouse and enjoy the sunlight. Their peace was interrupted by 
the piping voice of Nora. 

‘Gagga, Gagga, where are you?' 

She approached and reached out a little hand to drag him towards the
house. ‘Gagga, I want you to read me a story, Gagga, pleese,' she 
pleaded. 

‘Sure go and bring the book out here,' said Bridie and shooed her away.
‘Go and bring it out we'll read it in the sun. The fresh air will do 
you good.' 

Nora raced off to fetch her book. 

‘Do you enjoy your grandchildren Bridie?'  James asked. 

‘Indeed I do. They're usually the only ones to give you an honest
answer,' she replied with a hint of irony, but then she softened into a 
smile. ‘They do give you a lot of pleasure. You'll enjoy her James, 
she'll bring you a lot of comfort. Here she is now. A hundred miles an 
hour as usual.' 

Nora put her arms up to be lifted on his knee and when she was settled,
handed over the slim volume and gave her instructions. 

‘Read it Gagga, go on. Read Nora her favorite story in the whole world.'


She blinked her big blue eyes, and James opened the book and began. 

‘Once upon a time, there was a man called Mister Happy. Mister Happy
lived in a place called Happy Town. And the sun always shone in Happy 
Town and everyone who lived in the town was so happy. They smiled all 
day long.' 

James smiled and looked towards Bridie. 

‘There you are James, that sounds the place for you,' she said,
laughing. 

Nora did not tolerate this interruption and she turned with a stern face
and demanded he resume without further delay.  ‘Gagga, read Gagga.' 

‘Yes darling, of course, ‘ said James, and continued. 

The evening meal was a great success. Because of the constraints of the
kitchen, the caterers prepared a simple meal of roast chicken, potatoes 
and vegetables followed by apple pie and ice cream. Bridie organised 
the family to take turns to sit with Eileen. They maintained a strict 
rota with no visible dissenters to the arrangement. 

James took comfort in being supported by his family and friends. There
was a constant hubbub of conversation and as the evening progressed the 
noise level increased. The laughter became more raucous and 
unrestrained, the conversation more animated. He knew Eileen would have 
liked this. Such a gathering would have been right up her street. 

There would have been dancing afterwards and an opportunity for her to
show off her Irish dancing skills. He felt a need to go and see her and 
stood up to leave the room. 

‘Before ye go, James,' said his nephew Poraig as he climbed unsteadily
to his feet, raising his glass. ‘Ladies and gentlemen.' 

Bridie gave out a dark severe look in the direction of her eldest son.
‘I'll wring his bloody neck if he makes a fool of himself,' she said, 
with quiet menace. 

James smiled, shook his head and held her hand. 

‘James, I don't have to tell you this is a sad occasion, a very sad
occasion indeed,' said Poraig, incoherently. He waved aloft his glass 
of whiskey, remarkably without spilling any of the contents. ‘James,' 
he said, and paused, ‘James yer one of us. Ye've always been part of 
the family but tonight were makin it official. And not only that, 
James, if you want to, we'll make ye an honorariry.' He struggled 
briefly with the pronunciation, ‘an honorary bloody Irishman.' And as 
an afterthought, he added, ‘that's if you want to be.' 

Then his smile dissolved and he became serious and his eyes moistened.
‘God bless Auntie Eileen, she was one the best. God have mercy on her.' 


He slumped down onto his seat without spilling a single drop of whiskey.
The family applauded and James turned to Bridie.  ‘That wasn't so bad, 
it could have been worse. She meant a lot to him.' 

‘You're right,' said Bridie. ‘I was expecting worse than that. He's been
after drinking half of the day. I warned him. I told him what I would 
do to him if he made a fool of himself. Sure I know he's nearly thirty 
years of age but when the drink gets a hold of him, sure he's like a 
child.' 

At any age, they were still children in her eyes. 

James slipped quietly from the room. The wake was in full swing and his
departure went unnoticed. He had to say goodnight to Eileen and he 
wanted to be alone and then to sleep; his body and mind carried a deep 
weariness. Since the previous week, he had slept for only a few hours. 

He went into the dining room which had been transformed by candles and
flowers into a place of rest. The open casket stood on small wooden 
trestles in the middle of the room and a feeling of peace and 
tranquility came over him. His niece slipped away with bowed head and 
he was alone with Eileen. Flickering candles gave out a low, ethereal 
light softly illuminating bunches of flowers on pedestal vases 
surrounding her coffin. She lay peacefully, dressed in a favorite pink 
suit. Her hands were crossed and she had the slightest trace of a smile 
on her lips. James stood and looked down upon her for a few minutes. He 
thought how lovely she was, and one simple thought dominated his mind 
to the exclusion of all others. He would never see her again. His eyes 
moistened and he kissed her cold forehead and whispered his farewell. 
He walked slowly up the stairs and then climbed into his lonely bed. 

The fine sunny spell of warm weather continued. James drew back the
bedroom curtains and looked out to see the lambs frisking in the fields 
beyond the house taking unrestrained enjoyment of the morning sunshine. 
Short, innocent and uncomplicated lives just beginning. Rabbits sat on 
their haunches on the lawn looking nervously from side to side. They 
were safe today from the attentions of his twelve-bore shotgun. He 
smiled as he recalled a memory of her standing at the same window and 
banging furiously upon the glass to frighten them away from her 
precious roses. She cursed at their presence but was saddened by their 
demise when James managed occasionally to shoot one. 

‘You haven't put any more holes in my washing, I hope,' was her constant
reminder to him of one previous unfortunate incident. 

The family had insisted he keep his own spacious bedroom and he enjoyed
the luxury of a long soak in the bath. He quickly dressed in his best 
dark suit that almost still fitted. The jacket buttons would be more 
prudently left undone and a stout leather belt would relieve the strain 
on the trouser fasteners and he would have to remember not to bend over 
too sharply. Apart from these minor constrictions, the suit was fine. 
He smiled briefly when he realized there would be would be no criticism 
today of what he had chosen to wear. 

The waft of frying bacon met him at the top of the stairs and drew him
towards the kitchen where the morning catering operations were in full 
swing. Two nieces were cheerfully and noisily cooking at the hob and 
dishing out hot bacon butties. 

Despite the appetizing smell, James took only a cup of black coffee and
went outside to join the others on the patio. They moved aside to give 
him a place on the small wall and they chatted. Family talk. Catching 
up talk. Plans for the future talk, and more visitors arrived to pay 
their respects. 

During the course of that sunny morning a procession of small vans
delivered wreaths and flowers. Penny and Bridie arranged the wreaths on 
the lawn in front of the house turning to James to relate to him the 
name of the sender. The ‘teddy bear' wreath from Nora brought tears to 
his eyes. She was immensely proud of this arrangement and was unabashed 
in her delight showing it off to all to all she met, taking them by the 
hand for a close inspection. 

All the activity caused the morning to pass quickly by. It seemed to
James no time at all since he had arisen. He could not make time stand 
still and he thought of the last hours spent in her home. This was one 
occasion when hours became minutes when, so often during his life, 
short minutes had become long hours. The flow of time this sunny 
morning had been as absolute as Newton had described four hundred years 
ago. There had been no remission. 

The pleasant mood of the seated gathering dissipated when the hearse
came slowly up the drive. The undertaker sat next to the driver.  He 
was a long beanpole of a man with a scraggy neck, hollow cheekbones, 
and an outstandingly large nose. On one occasion, Drunken Dan and James 
had stood together outside of the church and looked at the undertaker 
in profile, sitting erect at the wheel of the hearse. Dan pointed to 
him. 

‘It's not often you see't bloody corpse drivin't hearse is it Jimmy
lad?'  He chuckled, and James agreed and even without the benefit of 
sobriety, he thought this observation by Dan to be uncannily accurate. 

He stood up and greeted the undertaker. He too was a friend of Eileen
and had been unable to control his personal grief on their first 
meeting to discuss the funeral arrangements. 

‘It's time to go James,' he said, then stood to one side and indicated
with his gloved hand they should go inside. ‘Do you and Penny want to 
say a quiet farewell?'  They walked into the house and he removed his 
black top hat. ‘I'll find Penny and Grant and tell them,' he whispered. 


James stood over her and felt the presence of Penny and Grant at his
elbow. This would be the last time they would ever see her and the 
enormity of the moment hammered into James as he kissed her goodbye. 
Penny placed three photographs besides her mother. 

‘We'll always be with her,' she said and her eyes became red and wet.
James nodded to the undertaker who maneuvered the lid into position and 
then turned the screws. One small plank of half-inch thick veneered oak 
took her from their sight, for ever. 

The chosen nephews were summoned to the room and they lifted the coffin
to their shoulders, and she left her home for the very last time. 

The large cortege made slow progress towards the church along the bright
leafy lanes. James turned around to see cars as far as his eye would 
take him and then more cars slipped on to the end of the procession en 
route. As they entered the village the streets were deserted. It was as 
a ghost town and James could not understand why there was no one was to 
be seen. 

‘They've deserted her. She's been forgotten already. Look,' he said to
Penny, quietly in a voice tinged with bitterness. ‘Not a living soul on 
the street to say goodbye.' 

The cortege pulled up in front of the ancient gray stone church which
lay below them. In the distance James could see dark cloaked men 
standing and talking in the shadows outside of the vestry. A patient 
young father comforted his child and the crying of the newborn 
represented the only sounds to be heard this still and silent morning. 
The Rev Graham Fowler stood alone in the shade of the ancient lych 
gate. He carefully directed the assembly of the final small procession. 
Before they moved off down the path to the church, James noticed 
drunken Danny standing alone by the metal railings. James walked over 
to him. Danny lifted off his hat and held it to his chest. 

‘Jimmy lad, they won't let me in,' he said, soberly and without
antagonism. ‘She was a good lass, your Eileen. One of the best.'  He 
nodded his head as he spoke. ‘Look after yerself, Jimmy. Ye'll miss 
her. We'll all miss her.' 

‘Thank you Dan, I appreciate that. Thanks. We'd better be going,' he
said, with a weak broken voice. He rejoined the procession and they 
proceeded slowly and unevenly down the path towards the church. 

Coming in from the bright sunshine it took a few moments for his eyes to
adjust to the gloomy interior. He shivered to the chill of the building 
and his eyes were directed to the stone floor. When he raised his head 
and looked around he saw a mass of heads and row upon row of unsmiling 
faces. He grasped Penny's arm more firmly and turned to her. The 
congregation filled the whole church to overflowing with every seat 
taken. The figures were blurred to his flawed vision but he felt a 
sense of relief that they had not let her down. 

They were shown to their pews at the front of the church by a sidesman
treading gently in small backward reverent steps with bowed head.  They 
knelt down and offered silent prayers with closed eyes. James counted 
four priests, vicars or ministers from different churches participating 
in the service. There would have been five, but another of her clergy 
friends had sent his apologies. He would be late because of another 
burial at a small church outside the village. With the best will in the 
world, he explained apologetically to James, he didn't want to be seen 
to be rushing. He didn't think the mourners would appreciate it. But he 
would be along later. James knew he would not want to miss out on the 
grub and the drink. 

She lay alone in the middle of the church and James felt very proud. She
had filled the church and in her own simple way had advanced the 
ecumenical movement between the various religions that practiced side 
by side in the village. She had allegiances to all local churches and 
chapels. Not through religious belief but by caring and practical 
support. 

Gifts from the shop for fetes and bazaars. Distribution of magazines.
Notices displayed in the shop window and above all, a precious gift of 
genuine friendship with those she came to meet. 

The service was uplifting to his spirit. Not being much of a churchgoer
since his days as a choirboy, he stood up when everybody else stood up; 
he sat down when everybody else sat down. He mumbled the hymns and 
mouthed the responses. A reaction to the poignancy of the service was 
that his thoughts were dominated by feelings of tranquility and 
fellowship, as though they were celebrating, and not, for these brief 
moments, mourning. 

The reading of the eulogy is a moving climax to most burial services.
Experienced, sensitive speakers have an ability to say much and tell 
little. Broad swathes of platitudes delivered eloquently by 
white-cloaked men of the cloth drawing from the skills of fairground 
fortunetellers. To speak warmly and intimately of strangers as though 
of life long friends. To bring about nodding of heads in understanding 
and tearful acknowledgements. 

On this occasion the eulogist required no recourse to ancient skills. He
spoke from his heart. The Rev Fowler began with a loud unfaltering 
voice and clear enunciation. By the end of his introduction it became 
apparent that the initial confident start he had made was not 
continuing. He was relating the life of his dear friend and despite his 
professional training it was difficult for him to speak fluently about 
a person he cared for deeply. He stopped and asked for water. It was a 
need to reestablish his composure rather than to assuage a parched 
throat. The congregation willed him to continue. He collected his 
thoughts, looked upwards for inspiration and help, and then told them 
of the life of Eileen. 

They took her on her final journey around the village, pausing for a
seemingly endless minute in front of her beloved shop. The streets had 
filled up over the last hour and the cortege moved slowly past, hats 
were raised and shopping bags lowered to the ground as a mark of 
respect. 

The conclusion to the service, the committal, the tossing into the grave
a few handfuls of her native soil gave James relief from the tensions 
of the formal occasion. She had finally gone from him, but he felt calm 
now that it was finally over. 

On his return to the house, James began to enjoy meeting his many
guests. It was a pleasant surprise to see how many old friends had come 
to say their last farewells. From London, Surrey, Nottingham, 
Hertfordshire, the North East, Yorkshire, Cheshire, Lancashire, and 
Ireland, they had all made long journeys. 

Warm rays from the high sun fell onto the balding head and beaming face
of Big Ernie. The effect of this sun combined with the large quantity 
of beer he had already consumed, made him positively radiate bonhomie. 
Poraig and Robbo had their arms around each other's shoulders 
supporting a new noisy friendship conceived out of booze. Jenny caught 
his eye and they chatted a short time before a departing relative broke 
up the conversation. When he turned to continue, she had gone, but he 
smiled as Frank cornered an attractive young woman and was pressing his 
attentions upon her whilst Wilma, his wife, stood close by oblivious to 
his antics. She was preoccupied with a very serious matter, which had 
suddenly come over her. The coffin in which Eileen had been buried was 
made from oak with brass handles. This to Wilma represented a 
deplorable waste of scarce resources. She therefore decided that when 
it was her turn, the bits of her left over after donations to medical 
research, would be buried in a casket manufactured from recycled 
cardboard, with no handles. She had decreed some time ago that she 
would not be cremated as this would use up non-sustainable fossil 
fuels. With the pieces of the jigsaw now in place, it was as though a 
great burden had been lifted from her mind and with a light heart she 
looked around for someone with whom she could discuss the impending 
perils of global warming. When her eyes lit upon the lapel badges of 
Reginald, she knew she had found her man. 

The traditional ham tea with teacakes and rum butter was served up and
hungrily devoured. The ‘just in case' refreshments were dished out in 
generous measures by his nieces. Mostly, it appeared to James, in the 
direction of his nephews and brothers in law. Bridie interrupted her 
conversations to stand up and look around her on the tips of her toes 
with neck outstretched to monitor the consumption by Poraig of the 
‘just in case.' Just in case! 

One by one throughout the sunny afternoon they bade him their farewells.
His Irish family prepared to depart for the ferry. Just before they 
drove off, Poraig came over to James and placed his arm around his 
shoulder. His ginger hair was more disheveled than usual and his 
piercing blue eyes half closed. He looked into James face from close 
quarters. ‘James,' he said, slurring. ‘James, the bogs are calling me 
home.' He giggled as a child. ‘You know James, you can take the man 
from the bog, but you can't take the bog from the man.' He put his head 
back. ‘You didn't know I was a philofficer.' He tried further. ‘A 
philosopher, did you?  James, I have to go home. I'm going on a retreat 
this weekend.' 

‘Yes Bridie was telling me. I was a bit surprised I didn't think it was
quite your style.' 

‘Well what she doesn't know,' he said, looking furtively over his
shoulder with a finger placed over his lips, ‘ Is that all the 
retreatin I'm doin is to retreat to Dublin with me girlfriend for a 
durty weekend. Christ she would murder me if she found out.' He looked 
seriously at James with his finger pointing unsteadily, ‘Now I'm 
relying on you.' He did not explain further to James what he was 
relying upon him to do, but he continued. ‘She'll have a sore throat 
saying her bloody Hail Mary's if she ever finds out.' He grinned 
widely. ‘Ach but she means well, she's not a bad old stick.' He turned 
around to look for his mother and waved cheerily in her direction. 
‘Seriously James, we're after been goin. Now I'm expectin to see ye  
this summer over there with yer clubs. Now don't be after lettin me 
down. Now that's a promise.' His conclusion was accompanied by a 
wagging of the finger. 

‘Come on you eejut your keepin us back. And give James some peace. Come
on,' said Bridie, with dark menace from out of the car window. Poraig 
staggered away and scrambled clumsily into the waiting vehicle with his 
shirt hanging out of his trousers. 

They finally drove away with hands waving from all the windows. He was
sad to see them go. It would certainly be a lot quieter without Poraig. 
He resolved to go over and see them and not lose touch with his family. 
He knew they would welcome him and he felt part, albeit a small part, 
of the family. 

The only car arriving at the house brought back little Nora from her
cousins where she had stayed during the funeral service. When she 
realized that she too was leaving, she rushed to find a book for Gagga 
to read one last story. It mattered not to her that Mummy and Daddy 
were in a hurry to travel back to London. 

‘Are you quite sure that this is the story you want me to read darling?'
asked James as she jumped up on to his knee. 

‘Yeth Gagga, read; this is my favorite,' said Nora, placing a grubby
little finger onto the page of the book. 

‘Once upon a time, there was a man called Mister Happy, and Mister Happy
lived in a nice place called Happy Land. And in Happy Land the sun was 
always shining and everybody was so happy. It was such a lovely place 
to live in.' He looked down at her fondly as she listened to him. 

‘Yes,' she confirmed, nodding her little head. As he continued he could
see Grant and Penny loading up the car. They had been reluctant to 
leave him and he had to persuade Penny to go. They, and he, had to get 
on with their lives, he had explained and her mother would have 
expected nothing less. ‘Life has to go on.,.' she would often say to 
them. They both had their jobs to go back to with careers to continue 
and their employers had been very generous in granting leave of absence 
with short notice. James told his daughter she had not to worry about 
him. He had plenty of friends and he could look after himself and they 
were only at the end of a telephone line if there were any problems. 
The shop was sorted out and there would be a huge closing down sale. So 
what was there to go wrong? 

James was coming to the end of his story for little Nora. ‘And so Mister
Happy went to his bed and fell fast asleep with a smile on his face.' 

She reached up to her grand father and gave him a big kiss on the lips
before throwing her little podgy arms around his neck. 

‘Bye bye Gagga. See you soon,' she said and jumped off his knee and
raced over to the car. James followed her to say his farewells. He 
hugged Penny closely for more than a minute, kissed her tenderly on the 
cheek, and noticed a tear in her eyes. ‘Don't be upset, darling. Off 
you go. See you soon. Ring me in the morning.' She  climbed into the 
car, pulling down the window as they started off down the drive. He 
could see them all waving to him, then a honk of the horn marked the 
exit from the drive and on to the main road. 

Everything was happening so quickly. He viewed the empty lawn and house
that no more than an hour ago had been thronging with people. Then he 
looked around him and took in the tranquility. The sun was sinking down 
over the top of the hills to the West but it still generated some 
warmth. He decided to stay on the patio and smoke a cigar and enjoy his 
own company for a while. He sat down on a chair, took a deep breath, 
lit his cigar and stared out towards the sunset. 

He was on his own. For the first time in thirty years he was on his own.
It had happened and there was nothing he could do about it. It was up 
to him and he had to make the best of it. This sounded corny, even to 
himself, but tomorrow was the first day of his new life. He puffed 
contentedly at his cigar, blew smoke rings in the still evening air. He 
swotted away a few irritating midges and resolved to get on with his 
new life. She would have wanted that and that is what he would do 


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