EPILOGUE
Josie smiles a gentle, comforting smile. She takes a hand of each and locks her fingers reassuringly in both Dylan's and Tasha's. A distant drone captures her attention for a moment and she glances fleetingly upwards, to the many snowy clouds and the faint silver glint of an aeroplane sailing through an isolated pool of blue sky. The day is not perfect, but it has a beauty all of its own, with its scudding clouds and cool, whispering breezes. A day for memories. A day for all those who remember with love to unite in grief.
Few people are gathered here. A man of God. Four men, paid to carry a stranger's coffin on their shoulders. And then the relatives. A son, wrapped in memories of confusion and guilt. A daughter, tall, pretty and slim, tears dimming her eyes but never falling. A cousin, strong for both their sakes.
All come to say goodbye to someone they never knew.
I didn't mean it. It was an accident, Angie, a terrible, terrible accident. I was so angry when I pushed you. So much going on in my head. Like I was screaming inside. But I've been screaming inside ever since I can remember. Why did you always have to play mind games? Did you never know how much it hurt me? Or did you always know and just not care?
The breeze gathers strength and stirs the river far below the hill. The sun climbs ever higher and the birds, busy with life, noisily chirp and rustle the trees. Noon, and the death knell sounds. The minister's solitary voice echoes with the history of all time past as a handful of soil hits the coffin with a lonely thud.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust..."
You were my Mum, Angie. Why didn't you ever care about me? I don't understand, why didn't you care? Why did you give me away? The survivalists, Mike and Jenny, they brought me up, made me who I am. Can look out for myself, out in the bush, anyplace. And Renee...well, Renee's got a special place in my heart. Like...well, I don't know, but I reckon it might be where people keep memories of a mother. I feel I should be crying for you. If it was Renee, I'd be...no, I don't wanna ever, ever think of it being Renee! But you were my Mum. I should cry for you, shouldn't I? I'm trying to, Angie, I really am. But I can't find any tears.
A bee hums drowsily through the wild flowers shaded by the crumbling walls of the old church. Their perfume lingers on the air and seeps through the long blades of rippling grass and down towards the river. A child shouts from somewhere faraway or perhaps it's the cry of the restless wind.
We met for a funeral. When we were kids. I don't remember anything about that day though, not even the crash. It must have been so awful for you, losing your Mum, and on your way to your Dad's funeral too. But when I asked you if it would help to talk about it, when we were grown up and I finally found you, you just laughed and said what it did it matter, if people were dead. Why were you always so cold, Angie? Even with Dylan and Tasha? I hoped we'd be friends. I was stoked when I tracked you down after all those years. We looked so alike we could even have been twins. But I never, ever understood you. I don't think anyone ever did. What made you so cold?
Shadows fall now, one by one, as a mass of cloud, larger than the rest, half obscures the golden sun. The shadows of those gathered here in memory and the long shadows of the gently shivering trees. The wild flowers shaded by the church's crumbling walls and the long blades of grass wavering in the restless wind. The church spire with its tapering point and its ancient cross. The shadows of each and every grave that lies this side of the hill where, in time long past, mourners have stood and wept. And all too soon the coffin is overcome by the silence and the darkness. Shadows fall.