All Passion Spent, Bergotte [e book reader online .txt] 📗

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The Fellinghams looked quite dignified as they prepared to enter the church for the funeral. The two men were dressed in very smart black suits and ties. Anna cast her eyes over Isabella. She was appropriately attired in a knee length black dress, black boots and a three quarter length coat, with high heeled shoes to match. When Anna looked at her sister she saw that she wore identical clothes. Anna wondered how this identical twin look had been achieved. Perhaps one of the women had bought clothes for the other one when buying her own. Whatever the reason, it looked quite striking.

However, the peace and tranquillity of the solemn occasion changed in the twinkling of an eye. Suddenly, Rita almost ran across the churchyard and began shouting at Paul. Although she was standing at a distance, Anna could hear quite distinctly what Rita was complaining about. “You ought to keep your wife under control,” she bellowed at him. Paul was too shocked to respond. He stood there wondering what was going to happen next, as did the rest of the assembled people. Michael approached Rita and took her firmly by the but she shook herself free and ran across to the another side of the churchyard. Then she quite calmly walked into church. Paul and Michael breathed a sigh of relief as they also made their way through the south door into the church. Isabella followed them.

The church was full. Many members of the Sunday congregation, who had known Laura Fellingham personally, some for a number of years, were in attendance. There was also a strong representation from the business community whom Laura had worked among. The assembled people made no attempt to talk among themselves. They observed a dignified silence as they waited patiently for the service to begin. An air of reverence permeated the church as soft, solemn music emanated from the organ loft. When the disturbance started it was all the more startling as it broke into that calm and placid atmosphere. Rita cried out in a voice of uncontrolled rage. Her words were inarticulate. Her outburst lasted only a few seconds and then subsided into a series of heart wrenching sobs, her shoulders rising and falling as she struggled to compose herself.

This was followed almost immediately by the coffin preceded by the rector intoning familiar words from the traditional service, “I am the resurrection, and the life saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.” As the bier made its way down the nave of the church towards the altar there was a distinctive sound of a squeaky wheel. The organist pushed down the swell pedal and the volume increased from pipes noticeably increased, but it did not entirely cover the noise of the squeaky wheel. The rector raised his voice to finish the sentences, with words from the book of Job, "…the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”

When they saw the coffin in front of them, resting on its bier, all four of what remained of the Fellingham family, were suddenly overcome with grief. The two women, almost simultaneously, began to weep, each dabbing at their eyes with tissues they had brought with them. The two men also were visibly moved. Paul put his hand to his mouth and stifled a small groan. Realisation had at last dawned that inside that elaborately carved wooden box was the body of his mother-in-law, whom he would never see again. Michael too was struggling to comprehend the finality of death.

During the prayers ‘Grant unto her eternal rest’ Rita rose from her seat… and attempted to leave. She could not join in the response, ‘And let perpetual light shine upon her.’ She was restrained by Michael and sat down heavily. Still the booming voice continued in her ears, ‘O Lord, hear our prayer.’ Michael thrust the service sheet in front of her and Rita mumbled inaudibly, ‘And let our cry come unto thee.’
She then appeared to go into a trance like state, only awaking from it during the singing of the final hymn with the familiar words ringing in her ears… “lost in wonder love and praise”.

The coffin bearers lifted the coffin on to their shoulders and carried it up the nave of the church and out through the north door. They had been given impromptu instructions not to use the trolley with the squeaky wheel, the noise of which was so incongruous. The organ played softly in the background. The funeral cortège then slowly made its way to the crematorium.

The service at the crematorium was very short. Before the family fully realised it, the rector had pressed the button to allow the cremation process to begin. The coffin made its way as if by some eerie form of magic towards the curtains at the far end of the chapel. Again, more magic as the curtains mysteriously opened and to the sound of piped music the coffin began to disappear. Before it did so, Rita suddenly stood up and shouted out, “No, she can’t leave us.” She continued shouting, she can’t leave us, over and over again, until after a few moments her voice subsided and the distraught woman sat down once more. Everybody inside the tiny chapel tried to hide their embarrassment at this outburst, the majority of them closing their eyes and pretending to pray. The piped music was still playing when the small congregation emerged into the daylight.

Outside, Paul and Michael stood together as they watched another funeral procession make its way towards the chapel and a similar procedure to the one that they had just experienced began to unravel before their eyes. They saw the hearse back up and pallbearers lift the coffin out and bear it into the chapel. They saw a Free Church minister standing at the door, preparing to take the service. “It’s like a conveyor belt,” observed Paul. “Yes,” replied his brother, “a constant stream of death.”

As if to underline the sheer misery of the proceedings, the sky heavy with thickening clouds now blackened and a light rain began to fall. Rita stood motionless with her sister who struggled to put up an umbrella she had brought with her. The two women huddled underneath it and went towards Paul’s car. The two men looked at each other, turned their collars up against the weather and walked to the car.

It was a small gathering of people who returned from the crematorium for lunchtime refreshments at Laura’s house, prepared by the faithful Sandra Smith. She had gone to a lot of trouble to provide sandwiches, sausage rolls, cake, several bottles of wine and tea and coffee. The rector was present, trying to keep up spirits, along with Mr and Mrs Close and Mary an elderly widow who lived next door to Sandra Smith and also attended the church in Claverton.

Rita sat apart from the others, staring out of the window at the garden. She seemed to be intent on looking at the different birds that were making use of the various bird feeders that the former mistress of the house had filled with nuts. Mrs Close approached and sat down next to her. “You will miss your mother,” she said tenderly. “Yes,” replied Rita, “but she might be better off dead, there is so much pain and suffering in this life. I see it all at the hospital where I work.” “Surely not. You’re very upset I can see that. Perhaps you could have some counselling…” “No, I don’t want that, I don’t want that,” said Rita, her voice rising. Mrs Close scurried away into the kitchen, like a frightened rabbit, and started to wash up glasses to help Sandra. Mr Close approached Rita. “My wife is only trying to help,” he said, “there’s no need for rudeness.” “I don’t want help, I don’t want help,” shrieked Rita. Mr Close also beat a hasty retreat.

Paul stood talking to the rector who was encouraging him to attend church. “But I don’t believe in any of it,” said Paul. Bella sat next to Michael, still very tearful, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief he had supplied. “We still don’t know who did it,” she said into the handkerchief. “I’m sure the police will sort it out,” said Michael. “Most crime goes unsolved,” sobbed Bella. He put his arm round her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her.

“You haven’t got rid of me yet,” said Rita as she came upon them both. “You left me of your own accord,” replied Michael, in an exasperated tone. “And now you’re sleeping with my sister!” she hissed at him. “No,” said Bella firmly, “we comfort one another in very trying circumstances. There is no sexual involvement, I assure you.”

Anna did not attend the crem. service and she had not been invited to get-together afterwards at the Fellingham’s home. The family had seen her in church, but they had had no conversation with her. Anna had not wanted to intrude on their grief. She had found it useful to observe them at close quarters without having to make polite conversation. Now she was sitting in her car thinking. She had not turned on the engine. She decided to analyse her thoughts and impressions while they were fresh in her mind. It was becoming more and more apparent as time went on that there were deep divisions in the Fellingham family, though they put on a brave united front. Isabella, for all her superficial charm, was a deeply troubled woman. She felt very hurt by her husband’s attempts to constantly deceive her and yet she seemed unwilling to throw in her lot with Michael. She wanted the best of both worlds, the freedom to associate freely with her brother-in-law and the financial security offered by Paul. However, as it turned out, he was not as financially secure as might appear. If Bella was beginning to learn the true state of Paul’s financial circumstances perhaps she might more easily renounce him as a life partner. How certain was she that Michael would welcome her with open arms?

But why should Bella kill her own mother? The only reason Anna could think of was – because Laura had opposed Bella’s supposed infidelity but sanctioned Paul’s and this was unacceptable to Bella. It was not a reason for murder, surely! Bella had not been unfaithful, she had merely approached Michael for comfort – but Laura did not know that. Perhaps Laura had pushed her to the edge of endurance, where she felt she could not cope any more. And Paul, like the good St Justus, made no effort to cope; he just ran away and made himself scarce.

Anna started the engine and drove back to Bath to report to Gerrard. She told him, “I don’t understand why they are protecting each other. What has any of them to gain by that?” Gerrard responded with the idea that, “They don’t think they are protecting each other. One does not want to say anything about another in front of a third member. It is quite subtle, what is going on, I mean. They’re not telling us a pack of lies, much of what they say is true. It’s the occasional lie that’s throwing us. There is still much that we don’t know, but we must find out.”


CHAPTER TWENTYTWO
Monday, Oct 30: afternoon
The guests gathered at Laura Fellingham’s house had now departed leaving Bella alone. The faithful Sandra Smith had taken on the job of clearing up afterwards. She had restored the house to its former