La Vie En Rose

Amos suddenly died in 1967, his weak heart getting the better of him. On the day of the funeral, Biddy led the way into the crematorium, followed by Madge, Frank and Roy, who attended alone, while Aileen stayed with their two young children. He had the task of inviting the army territorial chaps who knew his dad and came to pay their respects.

The music playing in the background was a quiet turn-of-the-century waltz, which Biddy had chosen, and this helped, together with the fragrant flowers, to bring colour and dignity to the sad day in this cold concrete building. The music had set the correct tone, and she and Bunty had made the right decision. She knew their dad liked the Parisian songs from WW1, the only time they saw him dance with their mother during childhood.

They sat beside Mattie, who was already at the front, simply staring at the coffin with one large hankie in her hand. Biddy looked at her stepmother, who showed an expression of indignation, as if Amos should not have died. The large, round glasses Mattie wore daily matched her dark brown coat (not black) and made her look like an old tawny owl.

Mattie, with the family, had decided on a closed casket. Amos never attended church; she did. She was weeping quietly as Biddy came to sit down next to her.

The officiant nodded for the music to fade so he could begin the ceremony. The gathered mourners heard a click-clack of heels at the back of the hall. Heads turned. Dorothy had arrived late.

Madge turned around and said ‘Ssh’ to her as she tiptoed down the aisle and slid in next to Auntie Bunty and her husband George, who was the only speaker today. George, as Amos’ oldest friend, had taken on the task when Biddy told him she would be much of a mess to deliver a speech. All the Bell family knew their dad had a weak heart, but even so, it came as a shock that he died so suddenly.

After the officiant had opened the proceedings, George was called to speak and began with, “Well, Amos – you made it to Heaven before me.”

Some soft laughter and smiles appeared, except for Eileen, one of the L.N.E.R. conductors, who sobbed as if it were her father in the coffin. Amos knew her back in the 1920s. Biddy had met her on the train during their Whitley Bay holiday.

George explained how he’d met Amos; he’d introduced him to jazz clubs in the 1920s. Then he’d met opera singer Alice Neil-Gregory.

“Alice took him to see his first musical with Fred and Adele Astaire. Alice danced into his heart and musically into his head, singing opera for King George V in the twenties. Then, the birth of his children took place, who are with us today: Biddy, Madge, Dorothy, and Roy. Amos told me recently he was proud of them all, and his four grandchildren had given him the happiest moments of his retirement.”

To this, Dorothy muttered, “Ha!” Biddy glared at her.

George continued and also shared, “Amos wanted to give more time to his grandchildren, as he could not give time to his children due to WWII and Alice’s illness.”

George paused and smiled, looking at all the siblings. This set off Dorothy sobbing, tears dripping down her face.

This ruffled George’s composure. He paused, took a sip of water and looked at his typed notes. “Amos also shared with me that he knew as a father he’d made mistakes, but one can look at those here from work, the L.N.E.R., and you territorial army chaps to see how he was well respected; a chap who never said no and never let anyone down.”

There was much nodding in agreement from his co-workers, but Dorothy, through her tears, croaked, “Except he did let me down.”

Bunty’s head snapped toward her. “Ssh.”

Dorothy didn’t look at her. She kept her eyes on the coffin.

“He let Mum down,” she said. “And me.”

George continued with the eulogy. “Finally, in his twilight years", he then paused and looked at Mattie—his daughters knew their Auntie Bunty had added that ‘twilight’ phrase. "He shared his life with Mattie, who took care of him and helped him live a good retirement. Today, please remember Amos in your own unique way.”

There was quiet applause at the end of the eulogy. George was surprised at the acknowledgement. He was relieved the task was over. He went and sat back down next to his wife, and with a big sigh, whispered, “Thank god, I got through that.”

Biddy noted the squeeze of his knee from Bunty, which meant, “Well done.”

While the officiate completed the ceremony, he informed the guests, “Amos’ children and friends ask you to meet in the side room to have tea and treats, when ready.”

As the coffin slid behind the curtain, the last song played was La Vie En Rose by Edith Piaf, which had played at their mother’s funeral. Biddy knew Amos listened to it when he missed Alice Neil-Gregory. This brought more tears to his three daughters’ eyes. But Dorothy’s sobs were severe, so Uncle George sat patting her back to calm her down.

Madge said to Biddy, “Once again, it’s all about her!”

Biddy put a finger to her lips, and then she moved to thank the guests, who must return to their train shifts. Others knew there would be an extraordinary spread of Bunty’s baking. Much appreciation came from those who had missed lunch to come over to the crematorium as they entered the reception room to freshly made finger sandwiches and cakes.

Madge served the tea, and Dorothy sniffed and asked, “Do you need my help?”

Madge shut her down. “We could not rely on you to show up, so we did not assign you a task. You then burst into tears for our father, whose guts you hated. So I suggest you click your heels and make sure everyone has been given a cuppa – unless you have somewhere else to be.”

Dorothy shook her head at her sister’s put-down, sniffed her tears again and picked up two cups of tea for her, Auntie Bunty and Uncle George. As she handed them the hot drinks, still with a crack in her voice, she said, “Thanks for baking this monumental feast, Bunty.”

Her aunt smiled and said to her niece, “George actually learnt to bake the shortbread after all these years, as I ran out of time.”

He said with his hand on his heart. “I needed something to calm me down while I wrote five versions of the eulogy for your dad this week.”

Dorothy gave him the tea and grabbed her uncle’s other hand, who always thought the best of her. “Thank you for the many nights you sat with me, helping me with those dreadful mathematics when I was studying for my accountancy exam. You were a great Amos substitute.” She picked up a plate and said, “I will try your shortbread first, Uncle. You encapsulated Amos Bell in one speech. You could be a speechwriter for political men. Shall I ask Mr Prescott if he has a job going?”

George looked horrified. “Absolutely not, it would end my long marriage. Bloody nerve-racking being up there—I still have no idea why Alice wanted to perform every night.”

He sipped his tea as Dorothy, who had nabbed two shortbreads, said, “You were a shining star, like Mum! She was wired to perform… she and Aunty were the first generation to have the vote. We are now the ones fighting for equal pay with men,” she paused to chew the shortbread with as much dramatic timing as her mother… “this shortbread is pretty good for a beginner.”

He squeezed her arm with affection as Biddy came up behind and said, "Dorothy – could you not have worn flats just for today?”

Dorothy turned and snapped right at her sister’s face. “I was up at six, on the bus at seven with Deborah, and put in my hours at work. It didn’t even occur to me that the floor would echo. " Sarcasm dripped from her pink lips.

Biddy retaliated: “Today should have been about Dad, not you making an entrance.”

“It was for Dad; I came here just for Amos Bell, but as I am the secretive sister, you would not know that. Yes, I heard what you said about me. Remember, John P has a big mouth. You will no longer know any of my secrets.”

Biddy was relieved when Dorothy moved away to pick up more poured tea cups and handed Mattie a cup. She stood alone, staring at the military men in their Yorkshire Royal Engineer uniforms with khaki dress jackets and black hats trimmed in red.

Mattie looked surprised and said, “So many military men paying their respects. Thank you for the tea, Dorothee.”

Dorothy said, “Oh yes, Roy drummed up all the old-timers who are left. Thank God George did the eulogy. My sister believed Roy should have spoken, but as Madge pointed out, ‘He has a big gob on him,' which would not have been suitable for this sedate L.N.E.R. crowd. He’d have embarrassed us all.”

Mattie simply looked confused and not wise like her owl glasses, and wandered away. She avoided Amos’ children as much as possible.

***

They had their first family meeting in years.

Bunty clapped her hands. “Please give me your attention. I am asking you to let me or Biddy know if there is anything in Amos's personal belongings you would like. Biddy has asked George and me to make the final decision if the two of you want the same items. We believe Mattie will need a few months to pack and go through items within the house before we turn in the keys. If any of you have house keys, please return them to me.”

Biddy said, “I have a set, Auntie – here they are.” She handed over the keys.

Roy said, “I’ve got a set somewhere, but I'm not sure where they are. Aileen will get them to you.”

Madge retorted, “Typical would lose his own head if it were loose.”

Bunty said, holding a clipboard with a typed list in her hands. “There is time to find them. Roy has volunteered one of the territorial chaps to move the furniture. We have only a piano not been claimed.”

Dorothy put up her hand and asked, “Deborah is learning to play piano, so we would like Mother’s piano. It’s the one Mummy taught me to play on.” More tears fell on her cream sweater.

With a roll of the eyes, Madge noted, “You’re the only one other than Bunty that still plays. Take the monstrous beast.”

Bunty said, “We will take the piano to Dot’s. Finally, there will be ashes to disperse. Mattie has left them for us to disperse. I will inform you which weekend when I have picked them up.”

She looked around the gathering. “By the way, did she go home on her own? Is she still in the vestry?”

Madge said, “Maybe one of their neighbours took her. I was thinking of taking piano lessons. Dorothy bit back. “You want the piano? You do not play.”

“Steven might be a budding Charlie Parker.”

Dorothy said with venom, “I hope so. But Charlie Parker plays the saxophone.” Her other siblings smiled at her swift reply.

Madge turned to her Auntie Bunty and asked, “But we are supposed to be sharing equally, aren’t we, Auntie?” Memories came back to them all of the childhood arguments – it was happening again.

Dorothy exploded before her aunt had a chance to answer and snapped, “Forget the piano, Auntie. I am sorry you have to deal with such pettiness on such a sad day. I got nothing from him in life, and so it will continue in death. I must leave, as Don and Deborah are waiting for me outside.” She clicked her way out of the echoing building with aplomb.

She heard Madge as she grabbed Frank’s arm to follow her out, and she said, “Once a bitch, always a bitch! Hang out the flags this month; she’s living with her husband again.”

Roy ran his hand through his thinning hair as Biddy said, "Auntie, why do none of them change? I do not think we liked each other, and as children, we always disagreed.”

Tears dripped down Biddy’s cheeks. Bunty handed her another clean, starched hankie and said, “Funerals bring emotions out that have been buried. You still have George and me for a while longer. But I agree that your sisters are smart women, but together they are 'Les Enfants Terribles'. Where’s Mattie? We are supposed to take her home?”

Biddy checked the bathrooms, but to no avail. They went outside and could not find her.

They squeezed into George’s packed car. Biddy wedged herself into the back with empty boxes from the cakes. As they exited the Chanterlands Avenue crematorium, they caught a glimpse of Mattie climbing onto the passing bus.

The bus pulled away before any of them spoke. No one suggested going after her.