‘Oh! Excuse me!’ I say with surprise, backing away from the stockroom and reversing to the shop. ‘Ciara,’ I hiss, finding her cleaning the mirror in the changing room. ‘There’s a man on his knees in the stockroom.’
‘You’re always on your knees in the stockroom.’
‘Not praying, I’m not.’
‘That’s Fazeel, our new volunteer – he started today. He’s going to cover security. He has to pray five times a day, so don’t be in there at dawn, noon, afternoon, sunset or night.’
‘Three of those times are not an issue for me, but it’s neither dawn nor noon at the moment.’ I look at my watch.
‘He said he slept it out this morning,’ she says, shrugging. ‘It’ll only be for a few minutes each time. His wife had cancer, he wants to help out.’ She eyes the bicycle I’ve brought through the shop to store in the stockroom. ‘Did you cycle to work?’
‘No I just thought it would be a pretty accessory.’
‘You’re not supposed to be cycling.’
‘They said I could exercise with the boot. And I really missed it.’ I mock cry. ‘Anyway, it’s great we have a new volunteer because I need to take a few hours off today.’ I scrunch my face up and wait for her to holler.
‘Again?’
‘I know. I’m sorry I’ve been asking a lot of you for the past few weeks.’
‘Months,’ she says firmly. ‘And that’s fine, because I’m your sister and I can tolerate your little meltdown mid-life crisis, but seriously Holly, what is it this time?’
‘Bert, a member of the PS, I Love You Club died, and I need to attend his wake. I have to deliver the final letter. Or rather, technically, the first letter.’
Her eyes widen. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I’m telling you now.’
‘I should have known something was up, you’ve been so quiet the past few days.’
‘Actually, that’s because Gabriel and I broke up.’ I squeeze my eyes shut again and brace myself for impact.
She slumps in the armchair by the dressing room and tears fill her eyes. ‘I knew this would happen. This is my fault. It’s because of the club, isn’t it? He couldn’t deal with it? It’s because of the podcast, I shouldn’t have asked you. Things in your life were going just fine until I opened this can of worms.’
‘Ciara,’ I smile, going to her and kneeling down before her. Typical Ciara that I’m consoling her after my own break-up. ‘We didn’t break up because of the podcast, it had nothing to do with that. We had other problems, which may have been highlighted because of it. It was my decision. As for the club, you played a part in making something wonderful happen. I’m helping people in a way that I was helped. It’s a gift. Come with me today, and you’ll see. And to be honest, I could do with an accomplice, because what I have to do isn’t going to be easy.’
‘Mathew!’ Ciara calls and Mathew appears in the shop. ‘Holly and I have to go out for a few hours, can you take over out here?’ She makes her way over to him and kisses him passionately.
‘I thought you just hired someone,’ he says, wiping his mouth.
‘Yes, but he’s praying.’
Mathew watches us leave, confused, and I throw him an apologetic look.
Joy, Paul and Ginika are waiting at Bert’s for me. I introduce them to Ciara, she greets them as though they are royalty and they all look at me, nervous and expectant.
‘Rita hasn’t found the letter,’ Joy whispers.
‘I know. I haven’t had a chance to deliver it yet.’
‘Oh goodness,’ Joy says, worriedly, fidgeting.
‘Hello,’ Rita says, coming from the kitchen to the hallway to greet yet another visitor. ‘You’re very kind for coming over.’ She’s dressed in a black shift dress, a black cardigan with a St Bridget’s Cross brooch. She takes my hand. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name. I’m seeing so many people today.’
‘Holly, and this is my sister Ciara. I’m very sorry for your loss, Rita.’
‘Thank you, both. These are Bert’s book club friends,’ she introduces me to Joy, Ginika and Paul. ‘This is, was,’ she corrects herself. ‘Bert’s reflexologist.’
Ginika’s eyes widen and I see one of her rare smiles form on her lips. She has to turn away and bury her face in Jewel’s fluffy crown to hide her smile.
‘Oh, how interesting,’ Paul says, face lighting up. ‘Where do you practise?’
I throw him a warning look and he smiles sweetly. They’re all enjoying this. Their little secret.
‘I was sent from the hospital.’
‘The hospital? Which hospital?’ Paul asks, following along as Rita leads me to the living room. Ciara trails behind.
‘Bert’s hospital,’ I reply, throwing him a look over my shoulder. He chuckles.
‘Actually, Rita, I was hoping I could have a moment with Bert, if possible,’ I ask awkwardly.
If she is unnerved by the foot doctor’s request, she doesn’t show it. She opens the door and I’m faced with thirty people crammed into the small living room surrounding the open casket in the centre. All eyes turn to me and Ciara.
Ciara, dressed in black like a black widow, wearing a beret with a black net falling across half her face, smiles tightly. ‘I’m very sorry for your loss.’ She backs away and stands at the wall, leaving me alone.
I catch a glimpse of Paul, Joy and Ginika’s anxious faces before Rita leaves the room and closes the door gently in my face, stopping my escape. I stare at the closed door, heart drumming at the impossible task ahead of me.
‘What’s she doing, Mammy?’ a child asks, loudly. The child is hushed, Ciara urges me on, and I slowly swivel to face the room. All eyes are still on me. I smile politely.
‘Hi,’ I whisper. ‘My deepest sympathies.’
Children are sitting on the floor, toys in hand, silently playing together. Closed fists crush tear-filled tissues, everyone is dressed in black, cups of tea and coffee in hands. These, all family members and close friends of Bert’s, are wondering who I am and what place I have being here.
Much as I want to, I can’t turn around and leave. I’m cringing from the tips of my ears to the tops of my toes. I take the few steps forward and at least most of them have the decency to look away or avert their eyes to give me my moment. The murmuring starts up and the initial tension that greeted me disappears. I feel like an intruder who is about to steal something precious. I am here for Bert, I remind myself. He has instructed me to do something important. I will swallow my fear and pride, and follow through. I need to concentrate on the task at hand. Bert’s final request.
Inveniam viam. I shall either find a way or make one.
I self-consciously approach the coffin. My eyes fall upon Bert, so dapper in his best suit, navy blue, crisp white shirt and royal blue tie, with the crest of his cricket club. His eyes are closed, his face relaxed, the funeral home did a good job. I didn’t know Bert very well but I know intimate things about him. The few times I met him he was struggling to breathe, now he is calm, serene.
Tears well up. Then I look down at his hands and my eyes widen. He’s holding a bible. This was not part of the plan, Bert distinctly told me to put the envelope in his hands. He never mentioned anything about a bible.
I look around to make sure nobody is watching, they’ve continued their own quiet conversations to give me my moment. With everybody distracted, I place my hand on Bert’s hand and give the bible a little tug to see how easily it will move.
‘That lady is stealing from Granddad,’ a little voice shouts.
I jump, startled, and look down to see a boy beside me pointing right at me.
There’s silence in the room again.
‘Oh, she’s only holding Granddad’s hand,’ Ciara says sweetly, with a smile, stepping forward to stand by my side.
‘Thomas, come here,’ his mother says, and he glares at me suspiciously before leaving my side. I look around again and the eyes are back on me. Less trusting now. There may be some truth to peeping Thomas’s declaration. I’m starting to sweat; can’t they just look somewhere else? I reach into my bag.
The door opens and the arrival of a new mourner steals their attention from me. I use the opportunity to remove the envelope from my bag and place it on top of Bert’s hands, but my hands are shaking and its clumsily done. The letter rests uneasily on the bible for a second, then slides down to the side of the coffin where it will never be seen.
‘Jesus, Holly,’ Ciara mutters in my ear.
I reach in and dig it out. I place it on the top again, trying to balance it where it can be clearly seen. The envelope slides down a second time. I open the Bible and slide the letter between the pages, making sure it can clearly be seen at the top, but I’m not too convinced. Bert wanted the letter in his hands.
‘She did something to Granddad!’ Thomas shouts, standing up and pointing at me.
Thomas is not my friend.
Stunned and completely mortified, I look around at the faces staring at me. The crowd moves forward to peer into the coffin.
‘Who is she?’ a woman asks quietly, but I hear her.
‘This is Holly,’ Rita says, behind me. ‘Bert’s reflexologist.’
I close my eyes.