Undertaking Love

Chapter Thirty-Eight




The next morning dawned, sprinkling a fairytale glitter of frost across the village. Lights and kettles were flicked on, and early morning cuppas were raised in silent salute to Dora. Wife, neighbour and friend.

At the funeral parlour, Gabe lingered before closing Dora’s casket for the last time. Death had stolen her beady vivaciousness and replaced it with a soft serenity; her precious yellow dress was tucked safely under her arm.

‘Sleep well, old girl,’ he murmured as he carefully sealed the lid. He laid his hand against the polished yew for a few seconds of silence before heading outside to check on Dan.

At the florist, Ruth and her two teenage daughters had been at work since five o’clock that morning to finish all of the floral tributes on order. They barely noticed that their fingers were red with exertion and the pricks of thorns as they chewed their lips and concentrated on the flowers. Down the lane, Ivan, who had been out with his secateurs since sunrise, laboured slowly up to the chapel with his arms full of delicately scented lemon wintersweet and fragile, yellow hellebores to decorate the altar. Marla chastised him gently as she made him a sweet cup of tea, then drove him home again and ironed his good shirt. Whilst she was gone, Emily moved the vases of white lilies she’d artfully arranged and replaced them with Ivan’s love tokens, her cheeks wet with tears.

Jonny unloaded beer and wine from Marla’s car into the chapel kitchen, where quiches, cakes and plates of sandwiches were overflowing every available surface. It was a testimony to Dora’s popularity that so many of the villagers had turned up at the back door that morning with food clutched in their hands.

‘Dora would have loved all this fuss, wouldn’t she?’ Emily said to Jonny as she came through to the kitchen with a newly delivered trifle in her arms. She balanced it on her bump as she hunted for space to set it down.

Jonny puffed out.

‘She’d have had this lot organised in five minutes flat.’ He glanced around the overloaded kitchen and started to line up glasses on a decorator’s table that he’d unearthed in Ivan’s shed.

‘I’ll tell you what else she’d have loved, as well.’ He swivelled around with one hand on his hip and a sparkle in his eye. ‘That little bitch over there getting what was coming to her.’

He’d taken great delight in relaying to Emily earlier the gossip Gabe had confided in him, particularly the part about how he’d then seen Melanie leave the funeral parlour in floods of tears.

‘I wonder how Gabe’s going to cope without her now though.’ Emily said, then frowned as Marla came through the open back door rubbing her hands together for warmth.

‘How who’s going to cope without who?’ Marla asked, unwinding her pale blue merino scarf from around her neck and glancing from Jonny to Emily.

‘Gabe. He’s given Melanie the boot,’ Jonny replied, practically shimmying with excitement.

Marla’s hand stilled at her throat. ‘Really? Why?’

Jonny revelled in the opportunity to tell his story all over again, and spared no details when describing how shocked Gabe had been when he’d found out about the note from the fireworks.

‘And then she came out, sobbing! Practically on her knees, begging him for her job back,’ he finished with a flourish. ‘Good riddance, I say.’

‘Well, I can’t say that I’ll miss her,’ Marla said, careful to keep her surprise from her voice. Gabe’s staffing issues were his own affair, but up till now he’d always seemed to be Melanie’s number one fan. It wasn’t that long since he’d given the girl flowers and taken her for fancy dinners, for god’s sake. But then, she didn’t know why was she even remotely surprised. It was entirely consistent with his behaviour to turn his affections on and off like a tap.

She glanced up at the kitchen clock.

‘Come on guys, we’d better get out front. People will start arriving soon.’

Jonny eyed Emily’s bump with a frown as they filed through the vestry and out into the cool winter sunshine.

‘I wish you’d hurry up and have that bloody baby. I’m sick of lurking outside every time I want a fag.’

Emily smiled at him sweetly.

‘I’m sorry to inconvenience your legs, but my child says thank you.’

He shot her a sarcastic look as he wandered off towards the old graves at the back of the chapel gardens.

Tom sauntered up the High Street in his dark suit and joined their little huddle. He slid an arm around Emily’s shoulders and dropped a kiss on her cheek.

‘All set?’

‘I think so,’ Marla nodded as Jonny reappeared at her side. It struck her how sombre a tableau they made, a huddle of black against the stark white chapel.

They looked up in unison as Gabe appeared momentarily on the street outside the funeral parlour. He glanced their way with a tiny nod of acknowledgment, before disappearing again through the side gate.

‘Is it terribly bad form to find the undertaker sexy?’ Jonny murmured. ‘Sorry, Dora.’ He crossed himself as he cast his eyes to the skies in apology.

‘You won’t like him so much when he puts you out of a job next summer,’ Marla muttered with unnecessary acidity, mainly because very similar thoughts had invaded her own head at the sight of Gabe. It frustrated the hell out of her that the mad chemist in her gut refused to listen to the cool voice of reason in her head.

Today was going to be a long, long day.



By midday the chapel was packed to the rafters with mourners. Marla hovered outside the door and sent a discreet nod towards Tom, who stood sentry in the funeral-parlour doorway.

He disappeared inside, and moments later Ivan stepped out onto the pavement to lead his wife on her final journey. Dora’s casket followed, borne on the steadfast shoulders of Gabe, Tom, Jonny and Dan. A painful lump rose in Marla’s throat as she watched them match their pace to Ivan’s. They made a slow and dignified procession, and she had to acknowledge that they all looked magnificent with a yellow hellebore pinned to the lapel of their black jackets. Marla glanced down at the matching flower corsage around her wrist, the only splash of colour against her simple Jackie-O-style black dress.

Who knew that Ivan had such a romantic soul? Only Dora.

She looked up as Ivan approached the chapel doorway and reached out for his hands.

‘Are you alright?’ she asked.

He squeezed her fingers for a few seconds then stepped inside the chapel. She swallowed hard and met Gabe’s eyes without rancour as he drew alongside her. Today wasn’t the time for discord, a fact brought home by the strains of the wartime love song ‘Goodnight Sweetheart’ that floated from the chapel speakers.

Emily and Marla had both shed a tear yesterday as they listened to the simple love song Ivan had requested, made all the more sentimental by the crackle and hum from the stylus of the old record player Jonny had hunted down for the occasion.

The four men placed Dora’s casket carefully in its place before the altar and then took their seats. All except Jonny, who stepped up to the lectern and stood silent with his head bowed until the last strains of the music ebbed away.

He drew a deep breath, and on behalf of Ivan, thanked the congregation for coming. Everyone in the church had their own memories of Dora, and Jonny enriched them as he shared a little of Dora’s early life. How she’d been the last surviving member of seven children, and of how devastated she’d been to lose her beloved eldest brother Billy when he went down with HMS Courageous during the Second World War. Many of the elderly congregation bowed their heads, their own wartime losses ever close to their hearts.

Jonny’s affection for Dora shone star-bright in his every word. He made many of the congregation cry with his heartfelt anecdotes gathered from Dora’s many friends, and gentle laughter rippled around the chapel as he recounted a memorable day last winter when she’d tumbled down the step into the local shoe shop. She’d knocked over every single rack as she gathered momentum like a bull in a china shop, completely trashing the place. He paused to allow people to settle again, and then wrapped up his speech with a simple acknowledgment of how large a hole Dora had left behind in the lives of all who loved her.

Ivan most of all.

Finally, Jonny looked across at Gabriel, who straightened his tie and approached the lectern.

Marla couldn’t take her eyes off him. She hadn’t allowed herself to so much as glance in his direction over the last four weeks; having him here was torture. It seemed that she was destined for famine or feast where he was concerned, and neither option did anything to settle her stomach.

He glanced her way and held her gaze for a second that might have been an hour, and in that moment she felt sure that everyone in the building knew they’d had sex. She dropped her eyes to her patent black Mary Janes to minimize the number of people that would see her scarlet cheeks.

‘Ivan has asked me to speak on his behalf this afternoon,’ Gabe began, and his beautiful accent pulled her eyes like magnets back to his face.

‘It’s my honour and my pleasure, because Dora was one in a million. She made my move here so much easier with her simple kindnesses, her endless supplies of biscuits and her no-nonsense advice.’

He smiled sadly.

‘She was funny, and she was kind. A true friend, and I will miss her immeasurably.’

He paused, and he reached inside his jacket for Ivan’s speech.

‘Okay, so over to Ivan.’

He bowed his head towards Ivan on the front row, and then began to read.



‘It was raining the day I met Dora. October sixth, 1939. She was just fifteen but already very beautiful, like a young Rita Hayworth, she was. All the other girls were huddled together under the eves of the youth club, but my Dora just twirled and lifted her face up to the rain.

That was it, she was the girl for me and I didn’t waste any time in telling her so.

Then the war came along and everything changed – everything apart from Dora, that is. Her letters kept me alive through times when I could have easily lain down and died. I was determined to get home to my girl.’


Gabe paused as Ivan wiped his eyes with his huge white handkerchief and held up a shaky hand to still him. He turned to Marla and handed her an envelope.

‘I reckon my Dora would have liked you to read this out now.’

Marla nodded as she looked at the frail envelope with tear-filled eyes.

She joined Gabe at the lectern, and he stepped aside to allow her centre stage.

Marla drew strength from the sad smile of gratitude on Ivan’s face.

‘Ivan has asked me to read this letter to you all.’

She eased the notepaper from its envelope.

‘It’s dated August, 1944.’

Her throat burned as she scanned the letter quickly, and she took a moment to compose herself. She needed to do Dora justice. Both the elderly lady she’d known and loved, and the hopeful young newly-wed with a full heart and a primrose dress.



‘Dearest Ivan,

It was such a wrench to leave you at the station last weekend, although by the time this letter finds you it will probably be more like three weeks ago. Maybe even more. How I wish that you were not so far away from me, my darling. I keep looking down at my hand to make sure that my wedding ring is still there and I haven’t dreamt that I am actually your wife!

Wasn’t it just the most marvellous day?

You looked terribly handsome in your uniform, I really thought I might actually die of happiness when I saw you waiting for me at the altar.

I have to go now as I’m expected at the factory in an hour, but whenever you read this, remember that you are always my first and last thought each day.

All my prayers are that you will come home safely to me.

Your loving wife,

Dora.’


Silence fell over the congregation as Marla folded the letter and returned it to its envelope with trembling fingers. Gabe stepped closer, and the warmth of his hand against the small of her back made her long to turn into the safety of his arms.

‘Well done. You did Dora proud,’ he murmured against her hair, then propelled her lightly back towards her seat between Ivan and her mother. The old man patted her hand and nodded as he tucked Dora’s letter back inside his jacket.

At the lectern, Gabe cleared his throat and glanced down at the paper in his hand to complete Ivan’s speech.

‘I was the proudest man alive the day Dora married me. We were never lucky enough to be blessed with children, so she’s been my everything for more than sixty years. She is more than just my guiding light.’ Gabe placed the speech down slowly and raised his eyes to Marla’s. ‘She is the rock that this lighthouse stands on.’

Marla’s heart cracked wide open. It was the most beautiful, sentimental thing she’d ever heard, and she suddenly understood why Dora had worn her little diamond lighthouse brooch every single day. It must have been a love token from Ivan, as precious in its own way as her wedding ring.

The hauntingly familiar intro bars of Dame Vera Lynn’s war-time anthem ‘We’ll Meet Again’ floated out across the chapel, and all around the room tissues were pulled from handbags as old and young hearts alike swelled with pride.

Gabe stepped down from the lectern and joined the pallbearers around the casket. Dora’s elderly friends and fellow war survivors stood and joined their voices with Dame Vera’s, their swelling song a beautiful tribute as Dora left the chapel for the final time.

Marla rubbed Emily’s back as she sobbed, and together they helped Ivan outside to Tom’s car.

Everyone filed out behind them to watch the funeral cortege leave for the cemetery: Gabe and Dan in the front of the hearse, Emily and Tom escorting Ivan in the car behind.

It was only as the hearse disappeared around the corner that someone in the lingering crowd glanced towards the funeral parlour.

‘Fire!’