Heathen/Nemesis

Twenty-Seven

Donna stood by the car, a handkerchief clutched in her hand. The priest spoke softly to her but she heard little of what he said. She smiled every now and then, grateful for his concern but anxious only to be away from this place.

Julie stood beside her, reaching over once to pull a blonde hair from her sister’s jacket. She lovingly touched the back of her hair as she did so.

The priest finished what he had to say and retreated, to be replaced by various mourners. Words of condolence were offered. Donna was confronted by a parade of people, many of whom she found it difficult to place. What she felt now was more akin to shock than grief; it was as if she was numb. Every part of her body and her soul, burned out. She looked at people with blank eyes, red-rimmed and glazed; she might have been on drugs.

Cars were beginning to leave the cemetery, mourners driving away back towards her house for the wake. Donna was suddenly aware how archaic the word sounded. Wake. The thought of having her house filled with people seemed abhorrent. She wanted to tell each and every one of them to leave her alone with her grief and her pain. Let her enjoy it unhindered. Their presence would only seek to prevent her complete immersion in despair.

Friends and relatives spoke words of comfort to her before climbing into their cars. She nodded gratefully at each word, unable and unwilling to answer.

Julie finally urged her to get into the car, wiping tears from her own eyes as she pulled gently at Donna’s arm.

Martin Connelly walked over, arms outstretched, and Donna found herself embracing him. Embracing him and holding him tightly. His touch was reassuring and he allowed her to bury her head in his chest as he held her.

Only Julie saw the slight flicker of a smile on his lips as he spoke to her softly.

‘It’ll be okay,’ he said. ‘Just let it out.’

She sobbed uncontrollably in his arms.

Aware of Julie’s probing gaze Connelly looked at the younger woman, their eyes meeting for uncomfortable seconds before he finally stroked Donna’s cheek with one hand and she stepped away from him slightly.

‘I’ll see you back at the house,’ he said and walked off to find his car.

Julie watched him go, then held out her hand for Donna to join her in the car.

‘Come on, Donna,’ she said gently, but then noticed that her sister was gazing in the direction of the grave. Julie followed her gaze.

‘I don’t know who they are,’ Donna said quietly, wiping her nose with her handkerchief.

There were three men standing by the graveside, the one in the centre tall and powerfully built. All three of them wore dark suits.

At such a distance Donna couldn’t make out their features.

‘Friends of Chris’s, I suppose,’ Julie said. ’‘You didn’t know all his friends, did you?’

‘Most of them,’ Donna told her, eyes still fixed on the trio of mourners.

She noticed one of them kneel beside the grave, squatting down on his haunches and leaning over the edge, as if he were looking for something in the deep hole.

‘Who are they?’ Donna murmured, finally allowing herself to be coaxed into the car by Julie.

The driver asked them if they were ready, then pulled slowly away.

Donna turned in her seat and looked out of the back window.

The three men were still beside the grave, all of them standing again now, still looking down intently at the coffin.

The car rounded a corner and they were lost from sight.

Donna sank back in her seat, her eyes closed, the vision of the three men fading from her mind.

Had she been able to, she would have seen the tallest of the three kick a clod of earth into the hole.

It landed with a thud on the coffin lid.