Chapter ten
In the cold claustrophobic quiet of the cathedral, with the droning voice of the priest, duo felt curiously detached. He glanced behind him and surveyed those in attendance. There were many, and all the seats were filled up. His eyes washed over the various attendees and felt a pang in his heart when we remembered that he had done almost the exact same thing at his son and daughters birthday party all those years ago. His eye's returned to the front and he took in the coffin.
She had bought it two years ago, saying that she didn't want to leave something as important as 'all this' to an incapable sod. He had let her get on with it.
It was maple, dark and polished, with solid gold handles and glorious engravings of angels and fairies along the outside of the top. The casket was open, but he already knew what the inside looked like. She had been in the incredibly strange habit of sleeping in it sometimes. The white satin padded inside would have been incredibly comfortable, and the pillow designed to hold the deceased's head up would have been ok for sleeping on. Her face was made up so that it looked like she had just been out in the autumn cold, her cheeks pleasantly pink and her mouth full and rosy. Her hair had been brushed and styled so that it flowed over her left shoulder and across her left arm. They had had to do something to cover the burn marks. She wore a beautiful pure white dress; the bodice soft and lacy and the skirt just long enough to reveal her ballet shoe clad toes. She had insisted for many years that she be buried in ballet shoes. So that she could dance in heaven, she had said. That had been before the Party, but he still dutifully carried out her wish. She was buried with only one ring on her finger. The plain gold claddagh ring that her grandfather had given her. He was rather bitter, for she had hidden her wedding and engagement ring, and her will stated she did not wish to be buried in it.
The priest finished his sermon and a dreary 'amen' came from the attendees.
Then something happen which wasn't supposed to happen. The priest at this point was supposed to leave the podium and lead the congregation to the grave. But he didn't. He said; "Now I believe we have a piece sung by two members of. an outside choir?" he sounded rather puzzled, as though he had just been handed this information. Duo wasn't surprised by this new arrangement; his wife was apt to changing things at the last moment. He settled his eyes back to the front, but watched in amazement as two young people, one male, and one female, walked on stage. They were both wearing monk robes of deep black velvet with deep blue velvet rope-belts around the waist. The monk hoods were down, and the sight of two of the most beautiful people they had or would ever see met the congregation.
The girl had just-below-shoulder-length honey blonde hair, and the most beautiful green eyes. They sparkled with life and vitality.
The boy had jet-black hair and blue eyes, but they were so intense they seemed to be the only things visible. His left hand he rested lightly on the coffin of his mother, but his right he kept drawn into his robes.
"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. My sister and I were particularly close to the deceased, and would like to pay our respects by singing a song. We hope we do it well enough to be granted her heavenly favour." His voice was low; it would easily be bass when he sang. But his tone was harsh, almost mocking and he spoke the word 'deceased' as though it was something he wouldn't wipe off his shoe.
The boy hummed first and then the girl. They even hummed in perfect harmony, their voices blending to become one. It was beautiful even at this stage, and older women who remembered things that happened to the poor Norvatis-Maxwell family all those years ago shed a tear for all the loses poor Dominic Maxwell had had to live through.
But it was when the singing started that the tears began in earnest. Their voices rang through the huge building like birds in flight, bouncing off the walls so that all at once a whole choir was singing. Except there were only those two, singing a song of loss and sorrow. The words where lost to most, though later the same women as before would swear the two were singing about redemption and pain.
When it was over, the last note flown from their mouths in unison, lingering and languishing, the two bowed and offered their remorse to the family and it's loses.
They slipped off stage and were gone before anyone could find them. The last seen of them in that place were the robes, lying in heaps on the floor, with two gloves next to them. Except both gloves were right handed.
In the cold claustrophobic quiet of the cathedral, with the droning voice of the priest, duo felt curiously detached. He glanced behind him and surveyed those in attendance. There were many, and all the seats were filled up. His eyes washed over the various attendees and felt a pang in his heart when we remembered that he had done almost the exact same thing at his son and daughters birthday party all those years ago. His eye's returned to the front and he took in the coffin.
She had bought it two years ago, saying that she didn't want to leave something as important as 'all this' to an incapable sod. He had let her get on with it.
It was maple, dark and polished, with solid gold handles and glorious engravings of angels and fairies along the outside of the top. The casket was open, but he already knew what the inside looked like. She had been in the incredibly strange habit of sleeping in it sometimes. The white satin padded inside would have been incredibly comfortable, and the pillow designed to hold the deceased's head up would have been ok for sleeping on. Her face was made up so that it looked like she had just been out in the autumn cold, her cheeks pleasantly pink and her mouth full and rosy. Her hair had been brushed and styled so that it flowed over her left shoulder and across her left arm. They had had to do something to cover the burn marks. She wore a beautiful pure white dress; the bodice soft and lacy and the skirt just long enough to reveal her ballet shoe clad toes. She had insisted for many years that she be buried in ballet shoes. So that she could dance in heaven, she had said. That had been before the Party, but he still dutifully carried out her wish. She was buried with only one ring on her finger. The plain gold claddagh ring that her grandfather had given her. He was rather bitter, for she had hidden her wedding and engagement ring, and her will stated she did not wish to be buried in it.
The priest finished his sermon and a dreary 'amen' came from the attendees.
Then something happen which wasn't supposed to happen. The priest at this point was supposed to leave the podium and lead the congregation to the grave. But he didn't. He said; "Now I believe we have a piece sung by two members of. an outside choir?" he sounded rather puzzled, as though he had just been handed this information. Duo wasn't surprised by this new arrangement; his wife was apt to changing things at the last moment. He settled his eyes back to the front, but watched in amazement as two young people, one male, and one female, walked on stage. They were both wearing monk robes of deep black velvet with deep blue velvet rope-belts around the waist. The monk hoods were down, and the sight of two of the most beautiful people they had or would ever see met the congregation.
The girl had just-below-shoulder-length honey blonde hair, and the most beautiful green eyes. They sparkled with life and vitality.
The boy had jet-black hair and blue eyes, but they were so intense they seemed to be the only things visible. His left hand he rested lightly on the coffin of his mother, but his right he kept drawn into his robes.
"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. My sister and I were particularly close to the deceased, and would like to pay our respects by singing a song. We hope we do it well enough to be granted her heavenly favour." His voice was low; it would easily be bass when he sang. But his tone was harsh, almost mocking and he spoke the word 'deceased' as though it was something he wouldn't wipe off his shoe.
The boy hummed first and then the girl. They even hummed in perfect harmony, their voices blending to become one. It was beautiful even at this stage, and older women who remembered things that happened to the poor Norvatis-Maxwell family all those years ago shed a tear for all the loses poor Dominic Maxwell had had to live through.
But it was when the singing started that the tears began in earnest. Their voices rang through the huge building like birds in flight, bouncing off the walls so that all at once a whole choir was singing. Except there were only those two, singing a song of loss and sorrow. The words where lost to most, though later the same women as before would swear the two were singing about redemption and pain.
When it was over, the last note flown from their mouths in unison, lingering and languishing, the two bowed and offered their remorse to the family and it's loses.
They slipped off stage and were gone before anyone could find them. The last seen of them in that place were the robes, lying in heaps on the floor, with two gloves next to them. Except both gloves were right handed.