Some of the sobbing died down as surprise took over. A murmur ran round the chapel. Lafferty met Jean O’Donnell’s eyes and thought he saw a slight reaction there. “I have to confess to you that I have no idea why God took Mary’s life. It’s as much a mystery to me as it is to you. I, like you, will have to hope that there was a reason, a good reason, something perhaps that we might not be able to understand, but a reason nonetheless. The only comforting thought I can offer you is that there are lots of things in the universe that we in this life cannot understand. It would be arrogant of us to pretend otherwise, although we constantly do; it seems to be in our nature. Having said that, I feel I have to offer you my apologies for not being able to do better. You expected more of me, I’m sure, and for that I am sincerely sorry. For what it’s worth, you have my heartfelt apologies.”
Jean O’Donnell had been looking at the floor while Lafferty spoke. When he stopped she raised her head slowly and met his gaze. Her eyes softened and she gave him a slight smile and a nod. Lafferty felt relief flood through him like a warm glow. He smiled back and continued with the service.
Lafferty travelled in the first car behind the hearse along with the O’Donnells. He and Jean did not say much but he knew that it was all right between them again. Joe had not proved to be the problem he feared he might and had seemed well-comforted with his deliberate references to ‘Mary’s loving father’. He was sobbing slightly as he sat with his arm round Jean but Lafferty thought that was a good sign. Tears were such a wonderful safety valve. It was a pity that men could not use them more often.
As the hearse turned in through the gates of the crematorium, Lafferty turned to Jean and whispered, “I’ll make it as brief as I possibly can.”
Jean nodded and Lafferty got out first to hurry into the chapel to see that everything was ready. It was. There was a faint aura of perfume left by the mourners from previous funeral party, but the chapel had been cleared and the pall-bearers had positioned Mary’s coffin expertly over the hydraulic lift so that it would be clear to sink down through the floor at the right moment without impediment. For the moment, it was covered with a purple cloth trimmed with gold, worn in places through constant daily use. It was almost worn through where it draped over the corners of the coffin. Its only function was to cover the hole left in the floor when the coffin sank down for disposal in the ovens.
Lafferty said a last few words and raised his hand in blessing. There was a slight whine as an electric motor primed the hoist and the purple cloth started to sink to the floor. Lafferty watched it and paled as an awful thought came into his head. Was Mary O’Donnell actually in the coffin?
Mary had died in HTU... as had Simon Main. Lafferty found himself breathing deeply as if on the verge of a panic attack. This was ridiculous, he told himself. But it was no use, he couldn’t get the idea out of his head. Quite suddenly he snapped shut his prayer book and, without saying anything to anyone, he hurried out of the chapel and looked around for an attendant. He saw one talking to one of the drivers of the official cars and rushed over to ask him where the furnace room was.
The puzzled man stubbed out his cigarette with his foot and pointed him in the right direction saying, “There’s a flight of steps just behind these bushes.”
Lafferty gathered up his vestments and broke into a run.
The steps leading down to the furnace area were dangerously worn and wet. Their location in perpetual shade meant that they were covered in green moss and he almost lost his footing as he hurried down them. The experience made him slow down and think ahead. How was he going to handle this, he asked himself. He paused for a moment, breathing heavily, with his hands resting on the old wooden door at the foot of the steps. The coffin must be in the furnace room by now. There was no time to think up some convincing excuse if he was to see for himself that all was well. He turned the handle of the door and it opened.
It was warm in the corridor as he hurried towards where he could hear voices. He could also hear the clang of metal and in his mind he saw a furnace door being shut. Was he too late? Had the coffin already been consigned to the fire? He turned into the room to find two startled attendants.
“Has the O’Donnell coffin gone in yet?” he asked.
The two men didn’t ask who Lafferty was. They noted his vestments and said, “Not yet, Father, is there a problem?”
“Where is it please?”
One of the men pointed to a small room to Lafferty’s left. He looked in and saw this was where the hoist ended up. He could see the trap door in the ceiling leading up to the chapel. On the floor to one side was Mary O’Donnell’s coffin.
“I need to open it,” said Lafferty.
The men looked at each other and looked bemused. “I don’t understand,” said one. “What’s going on?”
Lafferty’s head was spinning. He couldn’t tell the men that he wanted to check that there was a body inside because of the chain reaction he would set off if there wasn’t! He couldn’t expect the attendants to keep quiet about it and what this might do to Joe and Jean O’Donnell was beyond imagination. “I made a promise to this young girl,” he lied.
“A promise, Father?” asked one of the men uncertainly.
“I promised her that I would see that she had a crucifix in her hand when she was put in her coffin.” Lafferty had his back to the men; he was staring at the coffin. He screwed his eyes shut at the weakness of his improvised excuse. He could hear the organ playing in the chapel above.
“I thought she was killed outright, Father?” said the man who did all the talking.
Lafferty screwed his eyes shut tighter. “No,” he lied. “She came round briefly at the hospital. I spoke to her.”
It was always the way, he thought. You tell one lie and before you know it, you’re in real trouble.
“I see,” said the man. “Well, in that case...”
“Thank you,” said Lafferty taking a breath and turning round. “It won’t take long. Do you have a screwdriver?”
The attendant who had remained silent fetched one and handed it to Lafferty. He seemed as if he was about to watch the proceedings as did the other man.
“I wonder if I could do this in private, gentlemen, out of respect for the poor girl?” Lafferty asked.
The men mumbled their agreement and withdrew from the room. Lafferty closed the door slightly so that they couldn’t see in easily from outside and started to undo the screws securing the lid. Even when all of them were removed the lid remained securely in place. Lafferty, whose pulse rate was now topping one hundred and thirty, cursed under his breath. He could see that the problem lay in the varnish, which was acting as a glue. It must have been soft when the lid had been screwed down. He inserted the flat blade of the screwdriver between the lid and the casket and rammed it in with the palm of his hand. He had to repeat this at intervals along the side until he felt the lid become free. He paused for a moment, whispering, ‘Forgive me Mary,’ under his breath before pushing the lid aside. There was no body inside.
Despite his suspicion that this might be the case, it still came as a shock. He stared at what lay inside, several plastic bags filled with some kind of fluid to provide weight. He picked up one and held it in the palms of his hands while he wondered what to do next. One of the men coughing outside reminded him that he didn’t have much time. He had to make a decision and he made it.
Lafferty replaced the plastic weight and positioned the lid back on the coffin. Replacing the screws quickly, he stood up to compose himself for a moment before stepping outside and saying to the attendants, “All done chaps. Thank you.”