Graveside

Spencer drifted through the throng of people, nodding to those he liked, ignoring those he was less happy to see. He was looking for someone. Where was she? Ah, there. Ahead of him stood Jenna, his youngest sibling and only sister, dressed in a smart black dress, a shawl draped around her shoulders. She was not wearing a hat, but had instead dyed her usually blonde hair black.
Spencer’s arm curled up round her shoulders and she sighed as the hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention.
“It doesn’t seem real does it?” he whispered.
“I … I just don’t know what I’m going to do,” she sniffed, dabbing at her nose with a handkerchief Spencer recognised as his own. “He was so important to me.”
“I know, I know,” said Spencer, brushing the hair from his sister’s face. “I worry about silly things though, like what’s happening to the flat?”
“I wonder if I should move into the flat,” Jenna stared into the distance, tears continuing to form in her eyes. “Get me out of the house.”
“That sounds nice,” said Spencer. He began to walk off again.
“Don’t leave me!” said Jenna quietly, the panic rising in her voice.
“I’m just going over there,” Spencer pointed, but he didn’t think Jenna noticed. She was crying again.
Spencer made his way quietly over to where Zack Zeff was fiddling with something in his pocket. Spencer noticed a discrete black earphone emerging from the top of his friend’s thick jacket. Why did everyone wear black to funerals? Why weren’t they celebrating the life of the deceased? Spencer had never been to a funeral before, which was unusual for a twenty-five year old. All of his grandparents had died young and so he hadn’t gone to theirs, and the rest of his family and friends remained healthy, so he’d never had cause to. He supposed that that was a good thing.
“Before you say anything, it’s depressing classical music, OK?” said Zack quietly, not looking at Spencer. Zack was one of those people it was impossible to dislike. He could go to a fancy dinner party, put his feet on the table and goose the hostess yet still be considered cheeky or even slightly eccentric.
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” smirked Spencer. “I wouldn’t expect any less from you. Who is it?”
“I don’t know, some dead musician,” said Zack, before realising what he’d said. The horror seeped slowly into his face and took over his Hollywood-worthy good looks. “Shit, I mean, oh God … oh, bloody hell, blasphemy and everything.”
“It’s OK,” said Spencer, patting his friend on the shoulder. Zack shivered and said, “I didn’t mean disrespect like that. No one heard me did they?”
“I don’t think so,” Spencer looked round but everyone was either crying or engaged in conversation. A sea of black standing around an empty grave. The hearse still wasn’t here. “And, between you and me, he was a shit musician.”
Zack smirked.
“He wouldn’t’ve made the big time, would he?”
“I guess now we’ll never know,” Spencer said diplomatically. A high-pitched wailing suddenly broke the quiet mumbling. Everyone swivelled and Spencer caught sight of Courtney Benson, his ex-girlfriend and now friend (at times, anyway), blowing her nose into a blue handkerchief.
“I wonder what that’s about,” said Zack.
“I’ll go find out,” Spencer reached Courtney’s side in a few swift movements. “What’s the matter, Court?”
“The hearse is still not here,” she wailed again, her blue eyes – so beautiful and perfect that if a writing student had tried to describe them, they would’ve been scolded for using clichés – shining with tears. Spencer noticed his oldest friend Matt shifting the weight between his feet, looking nervously at the ground. Crying women always made him uncomfortable – he must’ve been in hell.
“It will be here soon,” said Spencer. “It’s all going to be OK. It’s probably just stuck in traffic.”
“It’s the middle of a Thursday afternoon! How many cars are on the road at this time?” said Courtney, bursting into tears once more. “What if it’s rolled off the road? What if the driver was drunk and he’s gone and parked it somewhere to get more beer and then forgotten where he parked it? Or, what if … what if …” She ran out of steam and sobbed instead.
Spencer hugged her but she didn’t move. Zack and Jenna had by now appeared too, each patting Courtney’s back, trying to convince her it was going to be OK. Spencer looked around for Matt. He saw him standing several metres away, looking at a white marble grave. His brown hair feathered in the wind, his hands were stuffed deep within his pockets. Spencer went to him, moving quietly.
“Do you think about her often?” he said as he reached Matt’s shoulder.
“All the time,” he said. He crouched to touch up the flowers on his wife’s grave, pulling out the dead ones and throwing them aside.
Matt had been the one who had grown up quickest. He was married at twenty-two and had a daughter. But Polly had developed breast cancer and had passed away just seven months ago.
“How’s Tessa?” said Spencer, crouching alongside, stroking the cast aside flowers.
“Tessa’s fine, really fine,” smiled Matt. He always smiled when thinking about his daughter, his pride and joy. She was a gorgeous girl who never gave him any trouble, knowing the heartache her father had been through, even if she didn’t really understand where her mother had gone. “She starts school next month. It’s all just gone so fast. I wish you could’ve lived to see that at least. It would’ve bought her so much happiness.”
“I hope it brings you happiness too, Matt,” said Spencer. “You and Tessa are great together. She’s a fantastic kid.”
“She misses you,” Matt had got to his feet again and was now just staring at the gold lettering on the grave.

POLLY MARIE FLEMING.
5TH APRIL 1984 – 30TH JANUARY 2008.
BELOVED MOTHER AND WIFE.
YOU ARE GREATLY MISSED.

“You should come and visit her sometime.”
“I’ll do my best,” Spencer promised. He and Matt then walked in silence back to where Courtney, Jenna and Zack were still standing.
“Are you feeling better?” Matt asked Courtney.
“I’m sorry everyone, I’m sorry,” she said. Spencer understood the apologies. Courtney was one of the strongest people he knew. He felt that her earlier outburst had been a little bit too extreme and overblown. Everyone grieves in different ways.
“It’s going to be strange without him around isn’t it?” she said after blowing her nose again. “I mean, he’s always been there.”
“Totally odd,” said Zack. “Who am I going to beat at snooker now?”
“I just can’t believe it,” Matt shook his head. “First Polly and now … this is such a rubbish year.” Tears shimmered in his eyes and Jenna held his hand.
“It’s OK,” she said, squeezing it tightly, his warm hand against her cold one. “We’ll get through this. We can all cope. We’re all here for each other.”
“I keep thinking I see him everywhere,” said Zack. “It was just such a shock. I still don’t think it’s really sunk in.”
“I know what you mean,” said Jenna. “I woke up this morning and found myself talking to him. It’s so silly.” Matt looked at her and said, “It’s not silly. I still talk to Polly. I come down and visit the grave and tell her what Tessa and I have been up to and how everything is going.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean …” Jenna started, but Matt cut her off by waving his hand, letting her know that it didn’t matter. She was silent for a moment before saying, “I better go and see if mum’s OK.”
“I’ll come too,” said Spencer and trailed after her. Her slim figure cut a swathe through the crowd as people moved to make way for the grieving girl. Spencer followed, hardly noticed since upset women always get more attention than upset men.
“How are you, mum?” said Jenna, resting her hand on her mother’s shoulder. She was wearing a fancy black hat that looked like it had ended the life of at least three bowerbirds.
“How do you think I am?” snapped Fiona. “I might be a little better if he wasn’t here.” Jenna and Spencer instantly knew that this particular he was their father, Charles, who had run out on the family six years ago yet continually tried to be a part of his children’s lives. They didn’t mind, but Fiona wanted nothing to do with him. “How did he even know this was today?”
“I told him,” said Jenna, not caring that her mother would resent her for the rest of all time. “I had to, he had to be here.”
“You couldn’t not invite him,” said Spencer, looking at his father who was standing nervously next to an apple tree, not talking to anyone and not meeting anyone’s eye. “I’m glad he’s here.”
“He doesn’t have to be anywhere,” spat Fiona. “I wish I’d taken out that restraining order. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.” Before anyone could grab her, Fiona had marched around the other side of the empty grave and was poking her ex-husband in the chest. Jenna and Spencer hurried behind – their mum moved fast for someone with a false knee and early-onset arthritis.
“I want you to leave,” she said. Charles didn’t say anything in reply.
“Mum, please, stop this!” cried Jenna. Spencer too began telling her to leave him alone but Fiona didn’t seem to hear anything.
“You don’t deserve to have anything to do with us,” she said, looking ready to punch him in the stomach.
“I deserve to be here, thank you very much,” said Charles, his voice rising but still sounding calm. “I’d do anything for my kids.”
“Yes, even walk out on them, you bastard!” Fiona raised her handbag to strike.
“STOP IT!” shouted Jenna. Everyone turned round to look at what was causing the yelling and Zack and Matt ran over. Fiona had frozen with her handbag level with her head. She lowered it slowly.
“What’s going on?” said Zack, an earphone still swinging from his lapel when he stopped. “Is everything OK, Mrs Carrington?”
“Mum, dad, please,” Jenna pleaded, desperate for peace and calm, tears flowing freely down her face again. “Now is not the time. You can hate each other as much as you like any other time but I will not be put in the middle of it anymore. For one day can you just tolerate each other? You were fine, just go and stand apart. The hearse isn’t even here yet and I do not want you ruining the wake as well.”
Fiona was still fuming but turned sharply on her heel and returned to the other side of the grave and began bitching with her sisters.
“I’m sorry,” said Charles, hugging Jenna. “I’m sorry for everything.”
“I forgive you,” said Jenna, hugging back. “I never blamed you and I always loved you.”
“I forgive you too,” said Spencer, hanging back a little. Jenna always was Charles’s favourite. He followed Zack and Matt back to where Courtney was still standing, looking onto the empty road for any sign of the hearse.
“I love you all,” Spencer said after a few moments of silence. Everyone smiled. “I just think it’s going to be weird from now on, all of us not hanging around together anymore. It’s time to grow up and move on I suppose.”
There was more silence, as no one really knew what to say. Funerals were unhappy events, when in fact they usually had the capacity to be jolly.
“I need a drink,” said Zack. “It’s an open bar isn’t it?”
“Don’t be so vulgar,” said Courtney, hitting his arm gently. “But yes.”
“I agree with Zack,” Matt nodded. “I’ve had enough of funerals to last me a long time. I can’t lose anyone else, not for a while now.”
There was the sound on tyres on gravel and everyone looked up to see the hearse coming up the church driveway.
“At last, thank God,” Courtney clutched her chest and grabbed Zack’s arm for support. Everyone moved closer to the grave as the pallbearers slowly carried the mahogany coffin up to the crowd.
“Nice,” Spencer raised his eyebrows, impressed by the quality of it. He’d had nothing to do with the arrangements.
As the coffin was lowered into the grave, Spencer took that moment to say his final goodbyes. He couldn’t stay any longer. He took one last look at the people that mattered to him – Matt. Zack. Courtney. Jenna. Mum. Dad. Everyone else. Then, without another look behind him, he turned and walked off. Where he was going, he didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. He just had to go.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” began the vicar as soon as the pallbearers had moved off. “We are gathered here today to mourn the passing of Spencer Carrington – brother, friend, son and talented musician. His sister, Jenna, would like to say a few words.”