Short Stories

© Wendy Noble 2004

Julia loudly blew her nose and was glared at for her pains. She couldn’t help it. There was something about winter funerals that made her nose drip with sympathy. She grimly clutched the handle of her umbrella, tucked the used tissue into the side pocket of her second-best handbag and shuffled her feet. She knew she should have worn more sensible shoes. Her black high-heels looked smart but they gave her corns merry hell.

She didn’t really want to be there.  Her uncle had been a terrible old man whose lifelong project was to make everyone miserable and she didn’t think his death was a great loss. She was there because her sister, Cynthia, insisted Julia attended the ceremony to pay her respects.  The trouble was, she told Cynthia, she didn’t have much respect to pay. She would have preferred to stay home by the fire, and toast her uncle’s demise with a nice hot cup of tea. But Cynthia had her way, as usual.

It had rained non-stop all the previous night and although it had now reduced to a steady drizzle, the ground was sodden. That’s another draw-back to wearing high-heeled shoes; they sink into the mud. Why didn’t Uncle Kev have the decency to die in Spring?  It seemed as if he had timed his death to coincide with the weather, just to make it as unpleasant for everyone as he possibly could.  Typical of the man, thought Julia. I bet he’s getting a great kick out of seeing us all huddled in the rain, going blue with the cold and getting chilblains on our fingers. She stood staring ahead at the open grave, deep in thought, before turning to Cynthia and whispering, ‘Hey Cynth? Can you get chilblains on your fingers, or are they just on your toes?’

Cynthia’s eyebrows plummeted to a deep vee over her nose. ‘For pity’s sake, Julia!’ she whispered. ‘Pay attention.’ She turned her gaze back to the speaker, obviously disgusted with her sister’s impropriety. ‘I just wanted to know,’ muttered Julia. She hunched her shoulders, shivering a little as the cold wind played around the back of her neck. What a miserable day.

The Funeral Celebrant droned on and on about dear old Kevin Edwards. Why was it that no matter how awful a person was, as soon as they died they received instant canonisation? Her mind kept drifting off. Couldn’t the fellow realise everyone wanted to get it over with?  I’m glad the old devil’s finally gone, she thought. I feel sorry for Aunty Joy but I bet, deep down, she’s glad to see the back of him. For once the title, Celebrant, didn’t seem inappropriate for a person conducting a funeral service.

At last the fellow drew to a close. The woman from White Star Funerals began to hand out single red roses to the family members. Julia thought the woman looked very smart in her black suit, red blouse and matching red shoes. I wonder if she has corns, she mused. How does she cope with standing up all day in those heels? And how did they get their blouses, shoes and umbrellas all the same shade of red?

Feeling her watch loosen and begin to slide, she grabbed it in time but tipped her umbrella in the process. ‘Watch out,’ hissed Cynthia, ‘you nearly put my eye out! For goodness sake, behave yourself.’

‘Sorry, Cynth. It’s the clasp on my watch-band. Needs fixing.’

‘Well what are you doing wearing it? You should get it fixed.’

‘Sorry.’

Julia had fully intended to get the watch fixed, but with one thing and another, she hadn’t had the chance to get to the jewellers. She loved the watch, a gift from her late husband Denny, and she wore it every day. Thankfully it was the old-fashioned sort, with a little gold safety chain, so if it broke open she had time to catch it before it slid off her hand. Because it didn’t happen that often, she didn’t think about it most of the time.

They slowly shuffled forward. The closer they drew to the grave, the more nervous Julia became. She hated this part of the service. She would have preferred to duck around behind the crowd and walk briskly back to the car, but Cynthia had a firm hold on her arm.

Julia had always found it disturbingly morbid to peer down into a newly dug grave. Why do people do it?  What do they expect to see? It wasn’t as if there were any great surprise; it was just a deep hole with a coffin in it. Whenever she stood at the edge of a grave she experienced a strange falling sensation, as if some monstrous magnetic force was trying to pull her in. It was particularly strong the day of her husband’s funeral. It was one of the few times she had been grateful for the strong grip of Cynthia’s hand on her arm, holding her steady.

Slowly but surely they were getting closer. She clutched her umbrella with her left hand and the rose in her right. Her left arm was hooked through the handles of her second-best handbag which bumped awkwardly against her chest as she walked.  She felt ungainly, lumpy in her bulky coat and precarious in her high-heeled shoes. Oh why didn’t she wear her lace-ups? A couple more steps and there they were, staring down at Uncle Kev’s mahogany coffin.

She knew it was the done thing to recall a happy memory, or to say a short prayer, but all she could think was, If it was Aunty in there, Uncle Kev wouldn’t have picked such a nice coffin. He’d have shoved her in a cardboard box. Miserable old beggar. She heard Cynthia sigh deeply and say, ‘Goodbye Uncle Kev,’  as she threw her rose into the grave. Now it was her turn.

She had been standing a few steps back from the edge, fearing an attack of funeral vertigo, but Cynthia now urged her forward. As Julia peered down, the scene in front of her began to swim. Afraid she’d fall in if she didn’t do it quickly, she tossed the rose onto the coffin ~ and stared with horror as her beautiful watch went flying in after it. She stood, eyes wide, hand still stretched out, a strangled cry slipping through her lips.

Cynthia, thinking the emotion of the day had caught up with her at last, slipped a comforting arm around Julia’s waist. ‘I know, dear,’ she said. ‘There, there.’

‘No, Cynth, you don’t understand.’

‘Of course I do. I’m sad too.’

‘No, Cynth. Look! It’s my watch. It fell in.’

Cynthia stared at her, not quite believing what she was saying. However when Julia, still speechless, nodded helplessly, she looked into the grave. At first she didn’t see it and turned back to say so but Julia pointed again, wiggling her finger in emphasis. She squinted her eyes, searching more diligently and, sure enough, nestled among the roses on the coffin’s lid lay the offending watch. As the anaemic winter sun peeked timidly out from behind a cloud, the golden watch-band glistened in mockery. Cynthia stared for a few seconds and then turned on her.

‘Julia, how could you?’

‘Shush. I didn’t do it on purpose. And keep your voice down. Don’t embarrass me.’

‘Don’t embarrass you? What about me? What about Aunty Joy?’

‘Ok, ok,’ whispered Julia. ‘Lecture me later. What am I going to do?’

The two women stared down at the watch, lying there in all its glory, staring back at them.

On either side of the sisters, the other mourners were becoming restless. Julia’s mind raced. Could she reach it by bending down? How could she get it without everyone noticing? Obviously Cynthia wasn’t thinking along the same lines.

‘You’ll just have to leave it there, Jules.’

‘No way. Denny gave me that watch. I’m not leaving it.’

‘Don’t you dare do anything silly. People are beginning to stare. We can’t just stand here.’

‘Ok. Ok. Let me think.’

Cynthia’s grip was hurting her arm, but she knew if her sister let go, she would fall into that gaping maw. She decided the best thing would be to let the other mourners file past and then she could go back and get the watch. Surely they wouldn’t begin to shovel the dirt in straight away? She quickly glanced around. No, she couldn’t see any men with shovels in the vicinity. She whispered, ‘We’ll move on now and come back when it’s all over.’ Cynthia nodded grimly and they slowly walked away to find shelter under a nearby gum tree. They watched the rest of the mourners file past the grave. No-one seemed to notice anything untoward.

Julia knew her sister well and could read the ominous signs: the thin tight lips, the beetle-winged eyebrows, the rigidity of her back. Cynthia was furious.

‘Cynth, I’m …’

‘Don’t talk to me, Julia.’

‘I just wanted…’

‘Not now.’

‘…to say..’

‘Don’t!’

 ‘I’m sorry.’

Her sister whirled around, pinning her to the tree-trunk with her blazing black eyes. ‘Sorry? You’re sorry? Of course you’re sorry. You’re always sorry. Honestly Julia, how could you? At a funeral, for pity’s sake. You’ve done some stupid things in your time, some deeply embarrassing things, things I’ve cringed to witness, but this one beats all. I know you didn’t want to come. I know you didn’t like Uncle Kev. But did you have to do such an idiotic thing to make your point?’

The tears welled in Julia’s eyes. ‘I didn’t do it on purpose. Denny gave me that watch for our anniversary. I would never throw it away. How could you think I’d do such a thing?’ The tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. Damn, now she was really crying; deep, gut-wrenching sobs; awful, choking sobs. Cynthia stared at her, nonplussed. The sudden burst of emotion had taken both the women by surprise.

‘Er…now, now,’ said Cynthia, awkwardly patting Julia’s arm. ‘No need to get upset. I wasn’t thinking.’ She kept sobbing, so Cynthia kept patting. ‘Of course you wouldn’t want to throw Denny’s watch away. I guess it’s all still a bit raw for you. It’s only been a few months, hasn’t it?’  Julia nodded. ‘No wonder you didn’t want to come today.’ When she continued to cry Cynthia took out her handkerchief, shoved it at her and said, ‘Here. Blow your nose and calm down. We’ll think of something.’

Julia took some deep breaths and slowly brought her sobbing under control. She wiped her eyes with the proffered handkerchief and blew her nose before giving the cloth back to Cynthia. Her sister grimaced and gingerly put it into her coat pocket. They turned to look at the grave again. The last few mourners were filing past. Aunty Joy and other family members were getting into their vehicles, preparing to leave for the wake.

What to do? Julia thought it was only fair to offer to retrieve the watch on her own, but Cynthia, feeling guilty for her previous insensitivity, was determinedly valiant in her role of supportive sister. When the last mourner had gone, they slowly walked back to the open grave.

She had an idea. ‘Listen, it’s got a safety chain, so it’s still a closed circle. Could we hook it with the tip of my umbrella?’ Cynthia smiled in relief. ‘For once, I must say, that’s a brilliant idea!’ They beamed at each other and turned to look down at the coffin. Julia felt herself sway and desperately gripped her sister’s arm. An untidy mound of roses lay heaped on the coffin lid. There was no sign of the watch.

‘It’s under there, somewhere,’ said Cynthia. ‘You’ll have to carefully push the roses aside to find it.’ Julia reached forward with the umbrella, but once more she could feel herself being sucked into the vortex. She quickly lifted her head and stepped back. Cynthia looked at her with concern but she shook her head. ‘No, let me try again. I can do this.’ Hefting the rolled-up umbrella in her hand, she got a firmer grip on it and tried again, but once more the vertigo got the better of her.

‘Here, let me,’ said Cynthia, reaching for the umbrella. ‘We can’t have you falling in as well. This’ll need a steady hand.’ Slowly, carefully she gently prodded and lifted the topmost roses. It seemed to take forever. She had to stop every few minutes, complaining in surprise at how much her arm ached from holding the umbrella out in front of her. Finally the watch was revealed.  ‘There it is, Jules. It’ll be out in no time.’

Julia held her breath while Cynthia tentatively slid the tip of the umbrella through the small gap of the band. On her first attempt the watch slid straight off again. Julia groaned with disappointment. However, on her second try Cynthia managed to slide the umbrella tip in further and tipped it up so that the watch was lying firmly at the base of the spike. A short time later, it was back in Julia’s hand.

‘Thanks, Cynth. I just couldn’t let that nasty old man keep my watch. What would I have done without you?’

‘You’d have managed somehow.’

‘I would have fallen in and gone home covered in mud.’ They both smiled at the thought. Then Julia’s mouth twitched. Cynthia’s eyebrows lifted. They struggled for control but it was a losing battle. Suddenly both women burst out laughing, clutching each other’s arms. They laughed with the tears squeezing out of the corner of their eyes, their noses threatening to run and their teeth aching from the cold air.

Eventually the paroxysm passed. A few deep breaths, an ‘Oh my’ from Cynthia and the moment was gone. Julia studied the watch in her hand for a few seconds before tenderly placing it into the safe-keeping of her second-best handbag.

‘I miss Denny so much,’ she whispered.

Cynthia nodded. ‘I know, kid. I know.’

Gingerly they walked over the muddy ground towards their car. ‘Think Aunty Joy will miss Uncle Kev, like I do Denny?’ said Julia.

‘Not a chance in hell!’

‘Why don’t we skip the wake and go eat Chinese?’

‘Ok, but first we have to call the Guinness Book of Records.’

‘Why?’ Julia stared, puzzled, at her sister.

Cynthia smiled. ‘You’ve broken your record; two brilliant ideas in one day.’

They were both still smiling as they drove away from the cemetery. The drizzling rain had finally dried up and the sun was doing its best to shine.

THE END

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