The old woman looked up at her. 'I beg of you, Mrs Castle ...'
'Ha! The famous Ma Wagstaff begging? Don't make me laugh. Don't make it worse. Just get out of my way, you silly old bag.'
Lottie stood on the fake grass behind the coffin and raised a boot. 'Now. Have I got to push it in myself?'
She stopped. 'Where's Dic?'
Willie said, 'I told him to help them get Rector home. I thought it'd be best. Lad'd 'ad enough.'
One of the other women with Ma Wagstaff said hesitantly, 'Is he all right? Rector?'
'I don't know,' Willie said. 'Lottie, look ... what Ma's on about ... I know how bloody awful it seems. Hate it meself ...'
'Then put my husband in the ground, Willie Wagstaff. And you ...' Lottie stared contemptuously at Ma Wagstaff. 'If I ever see you near this grave again, I swear I'll wring your stringy old neck for you.'
She stood and folded her arms and waited. Moira knew she wouldn't move until the last shovelful was trampled down.
When Ma Wagstaff looked at her she turned her back.
'Right, then.' Willie had a rope. He threw one end across the grave and another man caught it. 'OK, Frank. Where's t'other rope? Let's do this proper. I'm sorry, Ma, she's right. Nowt else you can do now. Let's get it filled in.'
Ma Wagstaff stood up, put on the hat with the black balls, dented now. She said, 'Well, that's it. It's started.'
'What has?'
'There were more of um here. At least one. I could tell. I could feel um. Like black damp.'
'Go home. Ma. Stoke thi' fire up, make a cuppa, eh? I'll be 'round later. See you're all right. Now, don't you look at me like that, I'm not a kid no more, I'm fifty-four ... going on
seventy, after today.'
'Black seed's sown,' Ma Wagstaff said ominously. 'Bury him tight and pray for us all.'
The old woman walked unsteadily away, her back bent. Like she'd been beaten, mugged, Moira thought. Several other women followed her silently down the cemetery path.
The church clock, shining bluish in the sky, said 5.42.
When the women reached the shadow of the cross where Moira stood. Ma Wagstaff stopped, stiffened, stared up at her.
As Moira silently handed her the shopping bag, old embers kindled briefly in Ma's eyes. Neither spoke. Moira didn't know her.
And yet she did.
Hans lay stiffly on the old sofa in the Rectory sitting room. They'd put cushions under his knees, taken off his dog-collar. His eyes were wide open but Ernie Dawber could tell they
wouldn't focus.
Hans kept trying to tell them something, but his mouth wasn't shaping the words.
'Can't fee ... fee ...'
'Pop, stay quiet. Let's put your overcoat over your legs. How's that? Mr Dawber, don't you think we should get the doctor to him?'
'I do. You go and make us some tea, Catherine. Dic, ring for an ambulance.'
When they'd gone, Ernie leaned over Hans. 'Don't try and talk, just nod, all right? Are you trying to say there's bits of you you can't feel? Hey up, you don't have to nod that hard, just tilt your jaw slightly. Is it your arm? Your shoulder?'
Hans pushed an elbow back into the sofa, trying to raise himself. 'Chest. Shoulders.'
'Now, then ...' Ernie raised a warning finger. 'Listen, lad, we've known each other a long time, me and thee. I'll be frank with you. I'm not a doctor, but my feeling is you've had a bit of a heart attack.'
The Rector squirmed in protest.
'Ah, ah! Don't get alarmed, now, I've seen this before. It's nowt to get panicked about. What you are is a classic case of a man who's been pushing himself too far for too long. I know this is not what you'd call an easy one, this parish, for a clergyman, and you've handled things with tremendous skill, Hans, and courage, over the years, anybody here'll agree with that ...'
The Rector's eyes flashed frustration.
'Aye, I know. It's not the best of times to get poorly, what, with ... one thing and another. And that Joel ... by 'eck, he's a rum bugger, that lad. Impetuous? Well... But, Hans, be assured, they'll cope, the Mothers' Union. They will cope. They've had enough practice. Over the years.'
Wished he felt half as confident as he sounded. The trouble with Bridelow was so much had been left unsaid for so long that nobody questioned the way the mechanisms operated any more. It was just how things were done, no fuss, no ceremony, until there was a crisis ... and they found the stand-by machinery was all gunged up through lack of use.
When they heard the warble of the ambulance, Hans grabbed hold of Ernie's wrist and began to talk. 'I've buggered things, Ernie.'
'Don't be daft. Don't worry about Joel. This time next week he'll think it was all a bad dream.'
The Rector's dry face puckered.
'Don't think so? Oh, aye. Folk do, y'know. Things heal quick in Brid'lo. The thing about it ... and I've been thinking about this a lot - and writing it down. Started a book - don't say owt about it, God's sake - Dawber's secret Book of Bridelow. Not for publication, like, Ma Wagstaff'd have a fit ... just to bring all the strands together, reason it out for meself...'
'No, look ...' Hans blinked hard.
'No, the thing about Bridelow ... it's so prosaic. Know what I mean? Not sensational. No dressing up ... or dressing down, for that matter. Nowt to make a picture spread in the News of the World. Joel? Nobody'd believe him, would they? You think about it.'
He patted the Rector's hand. 'No, better still, don't think about it. Get yourself a bit of a rest. I'll handle things. Brid'lo born, Brid'lo bred. Leave it to Uncle Ernie.'
This had been his forte as a headmaster. Getting the kids to trust him. Even when he hadn't the foggiest idea what he was doing.
As the ambulance men crunched up the path, Hans said, 'Shurrup, you old fool and listen. It's Joel.'
'Like I said, we'll handle him.'
'No. You don't understand. Know where he's ... where he's going to spend the night. Do you?'
'Back in Sheffield if he's got any sense.'
'No. He's ... made up a bed. Little cellar under the church. Ernie ... Don't let him. Not now. Not after this.'
'Oh,' said Ernie. 'By 'eck. You spent a night down there once, didn't you?'
CHAPTER VII
GLASGOW
She told him that not only had she never eaten here, she'd never even been inside the joint before. And he, having stayed in better hotels most of his life, felt - as usual - like an over privileged asshole.
She had the grouse, first time for that too. (Didn't Scots eat grouse on a regular basis, like Eskimos and seal meat?) He joined her, a new experience for him also. The grouse wasn't so great, as well as which, it looked like a real bird, which made him feel guilty.