A Song in the Night (48 page)

“Beth died this morning,” Rosie said flatly. “I’m going up to Yorkshire as soon as I can get myself sorted.”

Mel’s face crumpled. She looked as though she might cry. “Oh, Rosie! I’m so sorry.” She made as if to come towards her, but Rosie pretended not to notice and hurried off to her room. Somehow she felt that a hug might be the last straw.

She travelled to Ridderch Standen on the Monday afternoon. It was a fretful journey. Her whole being seemed to alternate between moments of calm and bouts of utter panic. During the latter, her heart raced and her breathing became rapid and self-conscious. She found herself willing the train to go faster.

Ed and Cassie were at the station to meet her. As Cassie embraced her, Rosie realised that never in her life had she been more in need of human touch. In Cassie’s arms she felt young and vulnerable, like a small child. Yet today, she sensed Cassie’s vulnerability too. She was surprised to see there was no sign of Ciaran. As the car pulled out onto the open road, she asked Cassie about him.

Cassie’s eyes filled up. “He’s taken it very hard, Rosie. He was going to come and meet you, but he fell asleep a couple of hours ago and I didn’t feel it was right to wake him. He’s barely slept a wink since it happened. I thought you’d understand.”

Rosie nodded slowly. Her heart longed to see her brother, yet something in her felt apprehensive. She hardly knew what to expect. In one small moment everything had changed. Beth had meant the world to him. How would he be, now that his world had fallen away? It was hard to imagine. Ciaran without Beth seemed like a beach without the ocean.

When they arrived at Oak Lodge, Ciaran was waiting in the hallway. As Rosie came through the door, he fell into her arms and buried his head in her shoulder. His grief was so uninhibited, so out of character, that Rosie felt herself welling up.

“Thanks for coming, Ros,” he managed between sobs.

She tightened her grip on him. “Hey, Kitch. Where else would I wanna be?”

Even Oak Lodge seemed strange without Beth. Rosie was desperately relieved to have made it up there. She didn’t like to imagine what could have become of her had she stayed much longer on her own in London. Yet even here in this haven of tranquillity, she could sense that something was missing. Beth’s brothers were frequent visitors to the house in the days following their sister’s death. With them came their wives, and out of school hours, their children. How strange, thought Rosie, that a family could be so large, yet rendered so incomplete by the absence of just one small member. She almost expected the door to open and Beth to come bouncing in, her laughter irrepressible as ever, as if the whole thing had been one huge joke. It was only when she looked around at the other members of the household that Rosie knew the truth. Their red-rimmed eyes and pale, grief-stricken faces said it all. Beth was never coming back.

Over the next few days the house was fraught with activity. One of the early visitors was Mr Aston, the village undertaker, who called round to discuss details of the funeral. Tim the vicar called too, to offer the family pastoral comfort and talk through their wishes regarding the service. He sat in the living room with Ed, Cassie and Ciaran while Rosie made them all a drink. When she came in with the tea tray, Cassie invited her to join them. As the discussions progressed, Ciaran admitted that he felt totally out of his depth in the whole matter. He was quite happy, he said, to leave the planning of the service to Ed, Cassie and Tim. The only thing he had strong feelings about was the music.

“I don’t really know any hymns,” he said quietly. “I’ll have to leave that to you guys. But I’d be grateful if we could bring her into church to Vaughan Williams’
‘Lark Ascending’
. It meant a lot to her.” There was a moment’s pause. “And I want her to go out to Ravel’s
‘Pavane Pour Une Infante Défunte’ …
” He broke off and looked down, his face haunted and pallid. “Because that’s what she meant to me.”

Rosie wanted to ask for a translation. But no one else said a word, and the catch she’d heard in Ciaran’s voice made her stifle her curiosity. Tim left about twenty minutes later, and almost immediately afterwards, Ciaran disappeared to his room. The whole ordeal seemed to have exhausted him.

As well as several other visitors to the house, there were also countless phone calls. One of them was from Jonathon. Rosie was in her room when Cassie came upstairs to ask if she wanted to have a quick word with him. “He’d no idea you’d travelled up here till I just mentioned it,” Cassie said, looking slightly puzzled.

Rosie tried to think quickly. In a strange way she was missing her contact with Jonathon. Yet as she remembered the last e-mail he’d sent her, she felt a hesitancy about speaking to him. His question came back to her.
Has anyone ever told you about Jesus?
Even just thinking about it, she felt the same claustrophobic awkwardness that she’d experienced when she’d first looked at his words on the screen.

“Would you mind if I don’t come down just now?” she mumbled apologetically to Cassie. “I don’t feel up to talking to anyone at the moment. Perhaps I could ring him later.”

“Okay, love – I’ll tell him that.” Cassie left and went back downstairs. But Rosie knew it was one phone call she wouldn’t be making.

The funeral was fixed for Friday afternoon. On the Wednesday evening, Mr Aston rang to say that members of the family were welcome to visit the chapel of rest from ten o’clock the following morning. For the rest of the night, a gloomy anticipation settled over the house as everyone became lost in their own thoughts. It seemed an ironic and bitter blow to lose Beth so quickly and suddenly when her time had been so short anyway.

The next day, Ciaran went down early to the chapel. He returned an hour later, ashen-faced and silent. Ed and Cassie visited just before lunch. Rosie was busy making sandwiches for everyone when they returned. Ed disappeared straight upstairs, but Cassie came into the kitchen.

“Would you like to go and see her, Rosie?” she asked gently. It was obvious that she’d been crying.

Rosie had never seen anyone dead before. Memories of her time spent at Aunt Mariah’s funereal home came flooding back. “I’m not sure how I’d handle it if I’m honest.”

Cassie put an arm around her shoulder. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, love. She just looks like she’s asleep. But it’s up to you. It has to be your choice.”

Later that afternoon, Rosie made the journey with a heavy heart. It was more out of a sense of loyalty to Beth than any kind of desire to look at her. When they arrived at the chapel of rest, Mrs Aston showed them towards a little side room. Cassie reached out and took Rosie’s trembling hand as they stepped inside. Rosie’s heart was pounding as she found herself submitting to Cassie’s lead. For a few seconds she averted her eyes, everything in her recoiling from the sight she knew was coming.

“There now …” Cassie’s voice was soft and reassuring. “Look. She’s just sleeping, Rosie.”

Rosie forced her eyes towards the coffin. Her heart lurched as she saw Beth. She lay, dressed in the crimson velvet gown she’d worn for the concert only a few months earlier. Her blonde hair had been carefully combed and positioned to look as though it was flowing over her shoulders. The yellowness had gone from her face. Instead, her skin was pale and her lips, which were set in a slight smile, had the faintest tint of colour. Her thin hands were joined across her stomach as though she were enjoying an afternoon nap. With some consternation, Rosie imagined she could see Beth’s chest rising and falling. It was a surreal experience.

“You know, love – this isn’t Beth any more.” Cassie’s low whisper broke into Rosie’s consciousness. “It’s just her old house really. They’ve made her all beautiful so that we can look at her one last time. And that’s hard isn’t it?” There was a slight catch in her voice. “The thought that this is the last time we’ll see her on this earth. But in reality, Beth’s with the Lord now. She doesn’t need this old body any longer. He’s going to give her a new one.”

Rosie could tell they weren’t cheap words. Tears were streaming down Cassie’s face as she spoke. But Rosie knew Cassie believed every syllable of what she was saying. She stared down at Beth. It all seemed so unreal, so horribly unreal. How could someone so alive as Beth lie there, so still, so dead? She willed herself to wake up from the nightmare.
Surely it must be a nightmare?

But as she listened to the silence, broken only by the faint sound of birdsong coming from the sunlit afternoon outside, Rosie knew that death was in this place. No matter how long she gazed down at her, Beth lay there unmoving, her face like cold alabaster.

After what seemed like an age, Cassie put a hand on Rosie’s arm. “Ready to go, love?”

Rosie nodded. She gave a last glance at the lifeless form, unable to bring herself to touch the marble hands. “Bye Beth … gonna miss you.”

As they stepped outside into the sunshine, she couldn’t hold back the tears.

When they arrived back at Oak Lodge, Rosie was slightly shocked to see Jonathon’s car on the drive outside.

“Looks like we have a visitor,” Cassie remarked thoughtfully as she switched off the engine. “Perhaps I’ll ask him if he wants to stay for dinner.”

Rosie wasn’t sure how she felt about that idea. Seeing Beth had already disturbed her; she didn’t know if she could cope with Jonathon going all other-worldly on her. But she said nothing to Cassie. She didn’t feel it was her place.

Jonathon’s greeting was low-key and Rosie felt grateful for it. It stemmed any awkwardness there could have been between them. Cassie fixed a quick meal and by six thirty they were all sitting round to eat. The conversation was subdued and Rosie noticed that Ciaran hardly made any impression on his food. As soon as dinner was over he excused himself and went up to his room. Rosie offered to wash up. She was slightly disconcerted when Jonathon followed her into the kitchen and armed himself with a tea towel.

“Thought you could use a little help.” He smiled disarmingly but his eyes seemed to search her face. “How you coping anyway?”

Rosie shrugged as she filled the bowl with water. Somehow Jonathon always managed to draw her out of herself. She gave a light, embarrassed laugh. “You know I went to see Beth earlier? Well, I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t spooked me a bit.” Plunging some dishes into the water, she started to wash up. “Stupid I know, but it’s the first time I’ve actually seen anyone – well –
dead.
”

Jonathon nodded slowly. “I noticed your hands were shaking when we were at dinner.”

“You
did?
” Rosie was shocked. She’d tried hard to conceal her nervousness, but it seemed that nothing escaped Jonathon’s attention.

“Don’t worry about it, Rosie. You’ve been having things rough recently. You’re allowed to shake as much as you want.
Here –
” He pointed to his shoulder. “For you to cry on.”

Rosie smiled sheepishly. This was a guy who obviously wasn’t one to take the huff easily.

“So …” Jonathon didn’t look at her as he carefully dried a large, ceramic serving dish. “Had any more moments of personal revelation since we last had contact?” His tone was sincere, without the slightest hint of mockery.

Rosie swallowed hard. Should she tell him how she’d been feeling recently, or would that just make him go all weird on her again? Her mind flicked back to the image of Beth lying in the chapel of rest. It made her shudder. She decided to risk it. Treading carefully of course, but she’d risk it all the same. After all, there weren’t exactly crowds of folk queuing up to play agony aunt to her at the moment. Tentatively, she began to tell him of the loneliness she’d felt since Beth and Ciaran had moved up to Yorkshire, and of the sense of isolation that London seemed to inflict upon her these days. She even found herself mentioning her breakup with Gavin. Not, she insisted, that it had ever been a particularly meaningful relationship. But at the moment, every negative turn of events was bound to add to her unhappiness –
wasn’t it?

Jonathon listened quietly as he dried up, only interjecting from time to time in order to ask a question or clarify a point. For the most part Rosie did the talking, unburdening herself with a measure of conscious restraint and more than a smattering of black humour. When she had described her miseries as much as her pride would allow, she stopped washing up and stared at the window.

“As if all that wasn’t bad enough, I’ve just been to see my best friend laid out in a funeral parlour. Feels like I’m part of some awful horror movie.” She forced a laugh. “Now it’s dark, I’m wondering if I’m gonna be able to sleep tonight. Best keep a light on, I guess …”

Jonathon looked at her sympathetically. For a few moments he didn’t speak. Then he leaned back against one of the cupboards. “Rosie – look at me a minute.”

Rosie was slightly taken aback. His blue eyes seemed to pierce right to her very core.

“I know I probably upset you with my last e-mail, when I asked you if anyone had ever talked to you about Jesus.”

Rosie hung her head awkwardly. She’d been hoping this wouldn’t come up.

“Hey, don’t worry.” Jonathon gave a wry smile. “It’s not the first time I’ve been electronically blanked.” His expression became serious. “Rosie, speaking as your shoulder to cry on, I can’t offer you anything else. In the end, Jesus is all I’ve got.”

Rosie’s face creased into a frown. What on earth was he talking about? Yet as his eyes searched her own, she could see in them a compassion that she found hard to counter.

“I say he’s all I’ve got – but believe me, Rosie, when you have
him
, you have everything you’ll ever need. I think perhaps you ought to hear that right now.”

Unable to say anything in reply, Rosie looked away. Jonathon moved over to the radiator and hung the tea towel there to dry. “Hope you don’t think I’m trying to come on heavy here, Rosie, but I’ve been worried about you. I know you’re really going through it at the moment, but I also know that Jesus specialises in desperate situations.” He smiled gently. “I’m going to get off home in a minute, but I’d really like to tell you more some time. Have a think about it, eh? Whatever you decide, let’s stay friends. Okay?”