Crystal sings John Lennon's "Imagine" as performed by Eva Cassidy.
Part One Hundred And Sixty Eight
On the Friday morning, the day of the funeral, Karen stood in front of her wardrobe, utterly uncertain as to what to wear. This wasn't right, she kept thinking to herself, mothers weren't supposed to outlive their children, it just shouldn't happen! She felt as though she'd been living in an alternate reality ever since Ross had died, moving through the familiar rituals of her daily life, yet barely acknowledging those around her. On the surface she was just about managing to maintain her equilibrium, but she knew that she wasn't really communicating with anyone. George, Yvonne, Nikki and Roisin, they'd all made attempts to get through to her, to try and convince her to talk, but she couldn't. Polite detachment appeared to be all she could manage. Eventually settling on a simple black two-piece, she hung it on the outside of the wardrobe door until she was ready for it. She wondered just how she was going to get through today. It wasn't even a whole week since she'd been told of Ross's death, yet here she was, about to condemn her son's body to ashes.
She spent the morning tidying her flat, making sure it was presentable enough for the people who might come back after the funeral. She had plenty of alcohol in, but she hadn't really given any thought to any sort of refreshment. That would have spoken too much of her usual level of organisation, something she didn't think she was entirely capable of at the moment. She hadn't been near work all week, but she knew that after today, after saying goodbye to the son who had continuously resented her very existence, she would have to start putting her life back together. When she took a long, hot shower, and slipped into the clothes she'd picked out, she stood in front of the mirror doing her make up. She looked thinner, she thought, the clothes definitely looking looser than they really ought to on her. Jesus, she thought sardonically, I'll be getting as bad as George if I'm not careful. When the woman in question arrived to collect her, Karen reflected that she had definitely made the right choice, in deciding to have the simplest send off possible. She hadn't wanted any funeral cars, because being alone in the first one would have made her feel even more isolated than she already did. "Are you ready for this?" George asked, giving her a gentle hug. "I have to be, don't I," Karen replied quietly. "I know it might not mean a lot," George said as they moved towards her car. "But we will all be there for you." "It does mean a lot, really," Karen assured her, giving her hand a quick squeeze.
The crematorium was quiet, unimposing, and situated in a very pretty looking garden. This was obviously intended as a place for some quiet and much needed reflection. When they arrived, Karen was slightly astounded to see so many of her friends there waiting for her. John, Jo, Helen, Nikki, Cassie and Roisin, Crystal and Josh, Barbara and Henry of course, as Henry would be doing the fairly short service, and as she moved towards them, Karen also saw three others whom she certainly hadn't expected to see there. Neil Grayling, Gina, and Dominic were standing there, waiting to support her in any way they could. "I didn't expect to see you two here," She said as she approached Gina and Dominic, the twenty-five-year-old man reminding her far too painfully of Ross. "Believe it or not," Gina said quietly, "Sylvia offered to come in on her day off to cover for us." "I'll have to give her a pay rise," Karen said in astonishment. As she moved down the line, greeting everyone who was there, she took note of the guitar that Roisin had under her arm. She had asked Roisin to sing, and it appeared that Roisin had obviously managed to come up with something in the last few days. "You do know why Yvonne isn't here?" Roisin asked when Karen reached her. "Yes," Karen replied, "I spoke to her yesterday." Yvonne had phoned Karen, and tried to explain that she just couldn't attend a funeral, especially not one that was for the exact same reason as Ritchie's had been. She'd been a little apprehensive of Karen's reaction, but Karen had totally understood. No mother wanted to be reminded of the torment they had gone through, and she thought she may well behave very similarly after Ross's funeral. Yvonne had therefore elected to take care of everyone's children, needing to surround herself with the needs of four other people to stop her from thinking too much.
When they went inside the crematorium, Karen moved to sit on her own in the very front row, these seats always being reserved for blood relatives. She could sense everyone else taking seats around and behind her, but she was barely aware of their existence. She couldn't take her eyes off the long, polished coffin, the innocuous looking box that held her son's lifeless body. She barely took any notice as Henry moved through the bible reading and couple of simple prayers he had chosen, because the words meant very little to her. Even when he assured his small congregation that God would forgive all his children, on their entrance into the afterlife, Karen couldn't bring herself to acknowledge the sincerely felt meaning of his words. She hadn't forgiven Ross, and she didn't know if she ever would. She'd been in a state of limbo since he'd died, unable to dwell too closely on the feelings she had, for fear they would burst from her, to eventually drag her down into that interminable world of despair. She hadn't cried, not since last Saturday, when Jo and Yvonne had come to see her. That was the last time she'd allowed herself to give into the grief, the anger and the pain.
George, John and Jo, were sitting a couple of rows behind Karen, all three wishing they could be closer to her, to offer her some sort of comfort in this hour of grief. John was sitting between the two of them, feeling guilt in a way he'd never felt it before. Would Karen have still been going through this if he'd told her sooner? Would she still be facing the prospect of watching her son's body disappear through those ominous looking curtains? He couldn't be sure, and it was this uncertainty that wasn't allowing him to go easy on himself. As if sensing his thoughts, George's gentle hand slid into his, giving it a tentative squeeze, telling him far more succinctly in actions rather than words, that this wasn't the time for dwelling on questions that simply couldn't be answered. When Henry had come to the end of his part in this particularly painful show, he invited anyone who wanted to say a few words, to come up and do so now. Karen wasn't expecting anyone to come forward, because none of her friends had known Ross, apart from Helen. But when Nikki rose to her feet and moved to the front, Karen forced herself to begin paying attention to what was going on around her.
"I wanted to find something appropriate to read," Nikki began a little hesitantly. "But I couldn't at first find anything that remotely expressed the pain that I know Karen must be feeling, or the sincere wish that us, as her friends, have to comfort and be there for her. However, I did find a poem that I think expresses what Ross was looking for when he died, and what we all now want for his mother who is left behind." Taking a moment to allow a softer expression to cross her face, Nikki began to speak, having obviously learnt the poem by heart, so as not to require such a mundane item as a piece of paper.
"Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave,
Let me once know.
I sought thee in a secret cave,
And ask'd, if Peace were there,
A hollow wind did seem to answer, No:
Go seek elsewhere.
I did; and going did a rainbow note:
Surely, thought I,
This is the lace of Peace's coat:
I will search out the matter.
But while I looked the clouds immediately
Did break and scatter.
Then went I to a garden and did spy
A gallant flower,
The crown-imperial: Sure, said I,
Peace at the root must dwell.
But when I digged, I saw a worm devour
What showed so well.
At length I met a rev'rend good old man;
Whom when for Peace
I did demand, he thus began:
There was a Prince of old
At Salem dwelt, who lived with good increase
Of flock and fold.
He sweetly lived; yet sweetness did not save
His life from foes.
But after death out of his grave
There sprang twelve stalks of wheat;
Which many wond'ring at, got some of those
To plant and set.
It prospered strangely, and did soon disperse
Through all the earth:
For they that taste it do rehearse
That virtue lies therein;
A secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth
By flight of sin.
Take of this grain, which in my garden grows,
And grows for you;
Make bread of it: and that repose
And peace, which ev'rywhere
With so much earnestness you do pursue,
Is only there."
As Nikki moved to sit down, Karen smiled gratefully at her, thinking that the beautifully descriptive words had only too well established what she wanted to feel. But did she have any right to ask for it? Did she, a mother who hadn't even known of the torment her son was going through, deserve the luxury of peace? She wasn't sure. Karen badly craved that tranquility, but had little faith that she would ever experience it again.
The next person to get up from her place was Roisin, moving forward with her guitar, and sitting down in a chair that Josh placed for her. "I hope that the song I've chosen," Roisin began hesitantly. "Seems as appropriate today, as it did when I chose it earlier in the week. Karen asked me to sing something, to provide a little time for some quiet reflection." John watched her with interest, having wanted to see the exhibition of Roisin's other form of musical talent, though having never suspected that it would be in such a setting as this. When her gentle, delicate fingers began moving over the strings of her guitar, all eyes except Karen's fixed on her.
"They gave you a corner room on the fifth floor. The city lights were like candy to a kid in a store. Like a king you'd lay in your bed so statefully. So thankful they gave you a room with scenery."
As soon as Roisin began to sing, George's eyes widened. She knew that song, from the very first CD she'd ever borrowed from Karen. The majority of the people there had heard Roisin sing before, but some of them hadn't. Her voice was beautiful, pure, with a clarity of tone that was undemanding to listen to, and which bore the sweetness and lack of pretentiousness that only the truly talented have the pleasure to exhibit.
"You always were so healthy, so full of life, So seeing you so helpless just didn't seem right. And how you kept your head so high I'll never know. I guess you knew you had a better place to go."
This last line of the first verse brought tears to the eyes of many of those there to listen. There were four mothers there besides Karen, and two fathers, each and every one of them feeling the poignancy of the words.
"You've got a room with a view, A window to the world, You always had your sights set high. And now that you're gone, Your memory lives on, And I see you smiling in my mind, With angels as visitors dropping by, Your room with a view."
The shrill expression of pure feeling in these words, made every spine amongst them tingle. Jo could feel her own eyes filling with tears, and she could see that they were already running down George's face. As if he'd known precisely what to expect from his two women, John dug a handkerchief out of each of his trouser pockets, and handed one to each of them. He envied them the freedom to express their feelings in this way, as it was so much healthier than his incessant brooding.
"I'll always miss you, I'll always feel the loss. I have to remind myself that you're better off. I gotta believe even through these tears of mine, Wherever you are there's a sun that always shines."
Jesus, Karen thought bleakly, how on earth did she even begin to start thinking that. Yes, Ross might have been aware that he had a far better place to go, but had his life really been so bad? Had she really been such a terrible mother that he didn't want to be around her any more? She knew that these would, for a long time, remain some of her unanswered questions, but that didn't prevent her from continuously asking them.
"You've got a room with a view,
A window to the world,
You always had your sights set high.
And now that you're gone,
Your memory lives on,
And I see you smiling in my mind,
With angels as visitors dropping by,
Your room with a view.
With angels as visitors dropping by,
Your room with a view."
When the music finally came to an end, Roisin silently got up and made her way back to her seat. It was now or never, Karen thought to herself, as she too rose from her seat, and made her way to stand next to her son's coffin. "I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say at this point," She began hesitantly, her usual self-assured assertiveness notable by its absence. "But now that I'm here, the only thing I can say, is thank you, to each and every one of you for being here. You've all tried to get through to me this week in your different ways, and I know that I haven't been very receptive to your efforts. It doesn't mean that I don't appreciate it, because I do, more than you will ever know. I want to thank Henry, for giving me the simple, undemanding service that has proved most suitable in the circumstances, and I want to thank Nikki and Roisin for giving us all some important things to think about. But most of all, I want to thank my son, for giving me twenty-two years of fulfillment, that I wouldn't have otherwise achieved." Laying a hand gently on the lid of his coffin, she continued. "Ross came into my life, when I was really too young to have him, but babies rarely give us the option of choice about when they arrive. When everything became so hard, that I didn't always know which bit of me was doing what, he was the one thing that kept me going. Yes, my life may have been a great deal easier without him, but I wouldn't be the woman I like to think I am today. I'm only sorry, that at the one time when he really needed me, he couldn't tell me what was going on. I will never forgive myself for that, and I suspect that neither will he. All I can hope is that some day, somewhere, Ross can forgive me for not being the mother he wanted me to be."
Not long after as they all moved outside, Karen felt bone weary. She didn't think she'd ever encountered exhaustion such as this, not even with all the sleepless nights she'd gone through when Ross was a baby. God, no, don't start thinking about that, she told herself sternly, it really won't help. They stood outside the crematorium for a while, as Karen moved round her group of friends. "Don't you come back to work until you're ready," Gina told her firmly, giving her a hug. "We'll see," Karen said noncommittally. "The Julies send their best," Dominic put in. "And the last time I saw Denny, she was pruning her best plant ready to put on your desk when you come back." "As long as it's legal," Karen said with a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Just take it easy," Gina said, really not knowing what else she could say. "Are you coming back for a drink?" Karen invited them. "No, we can't really," Gina replied. "But you go and have several, you look like you need it." That's Gina for you, Karen reflected fondly, always blunt and to the point. Everyone else who was there did agree to come back for a drink, even Grayling. While she was stood talking to him and Nikki, she felt a familiar hand slip its way into hers. "I was proud of you today," George said gently, when everyone began moving towards their cars. "I'm not sure I was," Karen said a little dismissively. "I haven't got a clue as to what I'm supposed to be doing, but then Yvonne did tell me that there weren't any rules." "And she's absolutely right," George said firmly. "You're getting through this in the only way you know how, and that's the only thing you should be doing."
They stood together on the pavement outside the crematorium and witnessed Gina and Dominic walk a long way down the road, which was lined with cars and set off in a car. Karen felt her mind go blank. She ought to explain to everyone who was left to come back to her flat. Normally, automatic mode of thinking would have prompted her to act as quickly as thinking. Today, something blocked the thought process. She was not to know that she did not want to let go of the moment and of Ross's existence. As a result, those left at the end were standing around in groups being bit parts in Waiting for Godot.
Grayling, for one, stood at a little distance away from George and Karen feeling awkward. He heard Gina and then George say the words that came closest to his own feelings and regretted his silence. This was not the silence of his former self which let the worst spirits abroad in life around before enthusiastically embraced them as he found his place in the world. This was different as traces of that inexpressiveness held him back from speaking his feelings.
"It's difficult at moments like these, Neil," John's cultured voice broke in on his brooding thoughts. "I know what I feel but somehow anything I want to say in my mind to Karen comes over as something like a ham actor might say."
"I know," Neil intoned the reply, which sounded trite.
"I attended the funeral of a young boy called Jason Powell, even younger than Ross is, was. He was utterly committed to his beliefs that even though he was slowly dying of a chronic heart condition, he should not undergo a heart transplant operation that would have saved his life because it had only become possible due to experiments on animals. Foolishly, I engaged in a debate on the respective ethics. He won."
While John narrated the story, he fought off the welling emotions that rose up in him and threatened to choke the casual tones in which he attempted to dispassionately hold forth on relative ethics. Eventually, he ground to a halt and he put his hand over his lower face for a little while. In that pause, Grayling's heart taught him to make that first jump to feel for the man who was just like him
"I meant to say that I offered to read a poem at his funeral as no one accepted the vicar's invitation to say a few words. I ended up on my feet and reciting a poem whose title I forget, something like 'Do not stand at my grave and weep.' I won't recite it now, I can't remember the exact words. The point is that I might have said or done something for the good that day but I couldn't feel it."
"You sound just like me."
"Don't worry, Neil," Nikki's soft voice appeared in the still air behind him. "You were here for Karen. She knows. Nothing else matters."
"So this is your turn to be the supportive one, Nikki," Grayling turned round with a smile. Damn himself, he meant to thank her and that blessed moment when she had said words which touched his own soul which was hurting for Karen. Nikki's own eyes were moist with her own raw emotions, which the poem she had said talked back to her.
"That's what I'm here for," came her simple reply which gently pulled together the tangled webs of his philosophizing. "Are you coming back with the rest of us? You both ought to, you know."
"Why…" he hesitated. utterly uncertain where he should be.
"I'm sure Alison Warner and your work will wait till Monday," Nikki urged gently, pulling away at both of their temptations to run away and bury themselves in their work.
"Since you've put it this way…" replied Grayling, his voice strengthening in tone and becoming more confident. "I'll follow you assuming you know the way which I don't."
Nikki's own mind felt fogged in the same way as the others were in different degrees. Each of them looked to the one who seemed to know what she or he was doing.
"I'll check with Karen, just to make sure."
"Roash and I will be heading that way, Neil," Broke in Cassie's brash, self-confident tones, as bold as brass to Roisin's slight shock. She pretended to be preoccupied with manhandling her large guitar case.
Grayling smiled broadly and manoeuvred his car in the crocodile of cars, which formed up and snaked its ramshackle way back to her flat.
Finally, she led the way to her front door as her feet did a good job putting one foot after another even if the key seemed to get jammed in her lock. Finally, the outside world was shut away as Karen, George, John, Jo, Nikki, Helen, Grayling, Cassie, Roisin, Josh and Crystal made themselves comfortable. Since Karen had not really planned for such numbers, a number of them were squashed into her settee or perched on dining room chairs and Nikki and Helen sat on the carpet with their backs to the wall.
A profound silence descended on the room as brief spurts of everyday words petered out, leaving them with their thoughts. Roisin managed to prop her guitar case in a corner of the room.
"Well, here we are, all friends together," John said with false heartiness and instantly regretted his words.
"I'm sorry that I haven't got anything more hospitable than my drinks cabinet," Karen offered nervously, vague traces of ancient family rituals dropping into her thoughts and not exactly welcome.
"Don't worry, we'll manage," Jo reassured her politely though to her ears that didn't sound much better than John but at least they were trying. Sometimes it is all that there is in life.
"We need some more space, Karen. Is it all right if some of us sit out on the balcony"
"Yeah, make yourself feel at home," Karen offered lightly. Might as well not try to be in charge for once, she reflected, but let it be They were all close to her in their different ways. George followed them and Nikki and Helen got up off the floor as they sought somewhere more comfortable. ."……..come to think of that, I'll join you," she added, neatly reversing her earlier intention to stay where she was.
This is no good, Karen thought as she stood up and prompted a sudden decisive shift in her thinking took over, a last gasp of inspiration took over.
"I don't want to be pushy but what about one of you musicians singing us a song? Something spiritual to make us feel better as no one is really in a talking mood. I'd hate to pressurise anyone to make polite conversation, especially for me."
Roisin unclipped her case and brought out her gleaming new guitar and held it out.
"It's your turn, Crystal. I'd love to hear you sing."
"Well, this time it ain't going to be Kumbaya," She smiled. John, Jo and George smiled politely as the others laughed. Instantly there jumped into Crystal's mind that phrase which the thought of her children prompted, with their childlike, uncluttered fashion and the eternal questions, especially late at night when she was most tired out ……imagine …..imagine….imagine….. The word seemed like a one word prayer at a time when grief froze up everyone inside whatever superficial face they each wore. It had to be. Carefully, she gently and delicately plucked at the steel strings. Instantly her strong soul inflected voice grabbed at the lyrics, which were familiar to all of them, but twisting the melody lines into something new.
"……..No hell below us,
Above us only sky……"
If only that can be true, Karen thought to herself, that I can see the blue sky again.
Imagine all the people living for today...
Helen meditated on the mantra that ran round her mind that if all her patients could be like that then their souls would be saved. Meanwhile Crystal sat on the settee in the lounge, her guitar braced against her body singing away in more gentle tones than others remembered her for. She knew that those who were sitting out on the balcony were listening to her. She was happy as the song rescued her as much as those she was singing for.
" I remember when Crystal sang Amazing Grace out the window of her cell," Nikki's voice floated freely. "We were all locked up after Rachel Hicks had been found dead…….."
Instantly, she chopped short the reminiscence. Karen would hardly appreciate the description that she had only heard second hand that she had been found hanging by the noose that she created being driven to suicide. Even if Dockley was at the back of it, Karen would hardly appreciate it. "…….Anyway, I have never heard Crystal sound so pure that night, when all of us needed that most. It was a change from Bodybag, moaning about Kumbaya."
George quietly turned away from Karen and smiled in a puzzled fashion as this freeform muse gently poured out of Nikki. This was not the wing governor talking.
"You really haven't forgotten what it was like when you were there as a prisoner?"
"Not in a million years. If I did, I'd be selling myself out. Whatever I do in my nine to five job, I have to be accountable to her, ultimately."
George realised that Nikki was referring to the prisoner she used to be. In the meantime, Karen lay back, lost in the music.
"You have to give me some explanatory notes about Kumbaya and Bodybag," pursued George. "It sounds like a secret language
"Oh," smiled Nikki. "Crystal used to sing it over and over again to piss off Bodybag, I mean Sylvia Hollamby. I'm sometimes in danger of calling her the name I used to call her. Can't do that these days."
"…….Imagine all the people
living life in peace.………."
Yes, Nikki thought, that's what she ever wanted in this world.
"That's something I really miss from the past as there don't appear to be any real singers in Larkhall at the moment," Karen said in a slightly slurred voice as she roused herself from her extreme tiredness. "You've heard Roisin and you can hear Crystal right now. Shaz Wiley could sing really beautifully and sensitively, when she wasn't behaving like some naughty schoolkid who pulled stunts like locking Sylvia in her own cell so that she and Denny could cause havoc. Even Shell could sing, though it was usually for some ulterior purpose."
John and George fell silent and listened as Nikki and Karen exchanged these nostalgic reminiscences. It seemed highly ironical that it was the legal profession which had the reputation of having its own restricted code of expressions that is impervious to those not on the inside.
"………..Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world.…………"
The song gently wound its way to its conclusion and like an infinitely tender nurse, soothed away all their hurts and even made some impact on Karen's sense of emptiness. The evening settled down into tranquil form as Josh and Crystal left first as their children were younger of any of them and that umbilical chord was wound its tightest. The others politely made their exit while Karen was half dreaming as the night drew in.
Eventually, the only person who is eventually left with Karen was George who suddenly swam into view. So there she was, Karen reflected, a good friend who she felt had always been somewhere around. George gently moved to her and kissed her on her cheek.
"You look tired, darling."
"I feel it but I don't think I'll ever sleep tonight. I've gone past tiredness."
"That's how I felt when Daddy tucked me up in bed that night when I was little……after my mother was killed. I can still remember that particular place in that church where I sat, right at the front and the sight of…….right in the middle of the church. I didn't want to look at it….The strange thing, there's a gap right after that as if the memory were taken right out of me . What I can remember, won't ever leave me. I can still think of it even after these years."
Karen held onto the smaller woman who needed comforting as those ancient memory tracks were being replayed. It was strange that Karen felt a little better when she was nursing someone else who, just for that minute, needed her help and not the other way round.