Clover Moon Read online

  ‘I’m both,’ I said, because I was Megs’s sister and her best friend.

  ‘Well, sit either side,’ said the vicar, giving me a little pat on the shoulder.

  I walked into the church apprehensively. I’d had a peep inside several churches but I’d never visited one properly. I was in awe of the huge room, the wooden pews, the big gold cross at the end and the stained-glass windows reflecting pools of red and yellow and blue on the stone floor. It smelled of damp and candles and the heady scent of flowers.

  I saw two great vases of white lilies beside the altar and wondered who could have provided them. I knew that Pa and Mildred had had a conversation about flowers. Pa had wanted to have flowers for Megs’s coffin – maybe just a small posy of roses – but Mildred had talked him out of it, saying it was a waste of money because you couldn’t even take them home with you to get the benefit.

  I sat right at the side where the coloured light from the windows couldn’t fall on me. There were two old ladies in dusty black whispering together a few rows back. They had big old-fashioned bonnets on, misshapen from years of wind and rain. I peered round at them, trying to see their faces. Did they live in the alley? They didn’t look familiar. They weren’t Megs’s friends, I was pretty sure of that. Could they perhaps be distant family, invited by Pa? Could they be unknown aunts? They looked too elderly.

  My heart suddenly started beating wildly. Could one of these ladies be my mother’s mother – my grandmother? Pa had told me he’d lost touch with her and thought she was dead. Had he made enquiries and found her and given her the sad news that her little granddaughter had passed away?

  I couldn’t stop myself edging along the pew towards them. ‘Oh please, ma’am, ma’am, would you mind telling me why you’re here?’ I asked, looking from one to the other, wondering if I could detect a faint family likeness.

  They peered at me from under their ragged bonnet fringes.

  ‘We’re here for the funeral, of course,’ said one.

  ‘So did you know our Megs?’ I asked.

  ‘Who’s that, child?’ said the other.

  ‘My sister Megs. Margaret Anna Moon,’ I said urgently.

  They still looked blank.

  ‘It’s her funeral!’

  ‘Oh dear, we’re so sorry. Please accept our condolences,’ said the first.

  ‘Was she a slip of a thing like you? Tragic!’ said the other.

  ‘But why are you here if you didn’t even know her?’ I demanded.

  ‘We love a good funeral, dear. We always come here. The vicar always conducts such a dignified ceremony.’

  ‘He’ll do your sister proud, my dear.’

  I backed away from these two crows, sitting there so placidly, treating Megs’s funeral as if it were entertainment. I went back to the shadows of my side pew. Then I heard a horse whinny and the sound of carriage wheels on the stony path outside. They were here.

  An unseen organist started playing a melancholy dirge. I waited for what seemed like an age. Then at last I heard footsteps. I held my hand up to my face and peered through my fingers. Six tall gentlemen in black were proceeding very slowly up the aisle, carrying Megs on their shoulders. It was a heart-stoppingly small coffin. Any one of the men could have carried it unaided, but they plodded along as if they were supporting at least twenty girls.

  Pa and Mildred walked behind, heads bowed so they didn’t even glance in my direction. Mildred matched her steps to those of the men bearing the coffin, but Pa tried to walk with his usual gait and she had to keep restraining him. An usher showed them to their pew, right at the front of the church. The coffin was laid down slowly. The vicar stood to one side, waiting to start the proceedings. He waited. We waited.

  I realized he was waiting for further mourners. But this was all there were – Pa, Mildred and me, and two ghoulish old women here to pass the time of day. I wished I’d been bolder and brought all my brothers and sisters with me, whether or not they were wearing the right clothes. I should have brought all the children in our alley – I could have filled several pews. They might look ragged and behave restlessly, yawning and fidgeting and kicking their heels, but each one of them would have known Megs, and perhaps they’d have cried genuine tears when they said goodbye to her.

  The funeral started. There were two Bible readings and a couple of hymns, although Pa and Mildred didn’t know them and the old women were only prepared to be spectators, so the vicar sang solo, loudly and not very tunefully. Then he went up the steps into his pulpit and started talking about Megs.

  He spoke of little Margaret Anna, a happy, obedient little maid who had laughed and skipped throughout her brief life. We mustn’t be sad that she was taken from us at such a young age. We must picture her laughing and skipping in Heaven.

  I glared at him from my shadowy pew. It was clear that he didn’t know a thing about my sister. She rarely laughed – only when I tickled her. She never skipped. She simply wasn’t that sort of a child. She sat on a step and sucked her thumb, waiting for me.

  Next there was another hymn and prayers, and then the service ended with more organ playing. The six coffin-bearers returned and took Megs back down the aisle. After hesitating uncertainly, Pa and Mildred shuffled after them. The old women dabbed at their noses, seemingly overcome. I stood and marched past them, hating them, hating Pa and Mildred, hating the undertakers, hating the vicar, hating this whole bizarre, expensive ceremony that had nothing to do with my own dear Megs.

  I was so angry that I forgot to skulk in the background. Mildred turned and saw me. For a split second she didn’t recognize me in my new black finery and gave me a sickly smile. Then it froze on her face. She nudged Pa and he turned too. Mildred muttered something, her face flushed. She started towards me, her arm lifted, ready to give me a clout, but Pa grabbed hold of her. He looked at the vicar, at the coffin-bearers, and whispered urgently. He was clearly telling Mildred she couldn’t give me a hiding at my own sister’s funeral, not in front of everyone.

  She beckoned me instead. ‘Clover dear,’ she said in a strangled voice. ‘Good Lord, look at you! My, what a surprise!’

  ‘Don’t she look fine, Mildred?’ said Pa.

  ‘Oh yes, she does indeed. Do tell us where you got your outfit from, Clover.’

  ‘Oh, I – I got it off a clothes stall in the market,’ I said.

  ‘Of course you did,’ said Mildred.

  ‘Well, they were a lucky find,’ said Pa, not realizing she was being sarcastic.

  The vicar turned, clearly wondering why we were chatting at such a solemn stage in the proceedings. Pa and Mildred walked on together and I followed in their wake. There was a newly dug hole in the shade at the side of the church and I bit my knuckles, terrified that this might be intended for Megs’s grave. Perhaps Pa hadn’t really bothered give instructions about Mother’s grave.

  I wondered what I could do. Megs would be so scared and lonely by herself in the shadows. The coffin-bearers marched on, slowly but steadily, and I cleared my throat, ready to cry out – but to my intense relief they went past the hole and walked on round the church.

  ‘Where are they going?’ Mildred hissed. ‘There’s the hole! They’ve gone straight past it.’

  ‘I’ve asked for Megs to be buried with her mother,’ Pa murmured.

  ‘So she’s buried here?’ said Mildred. ‘You never said! Do you come and visit her?’ She flushed, actually seeming jealous of someone long dead.

  ‘Just occasionally,’ said Pa.

  My heart soared. I had never realized Pa made these secret visits to Mother. Perhaps he would let me go with him next time. Pa and me, and Mother and Megs, a little family again.

  The vicar was frowning at us, so we walked the rest of the way in silence. There was Mother’s grave, with a fresh hole right beside it, as requested. We stood by the mound of earth while Megs’s coffin was lowered in very slowly and respectfully. Then the vicar indicated that Pa should shovel a spadeful of earth on top of the coffin. P