Remember Me (29 page)

There was a ‘top’ trestle table covered with a pristine white cloth at which were seated, in a long row, the bride and groom, their respective parents and, at the end, Grandad Isaac. The rest of the guests were seated in groups of six around smaller tables. On the one nearest to the top table were the bridesmaids, Maddy and Jessie, the best man and groomsman, and Hetty. Occupying the remaining place was the photographer, Bertram Lucas. He had been invited to the reception because there was still one photograph to be taken, that of the ceremony of cutting the cake. Besides which, he was becoming quite a friend, as well as a neighbour, to the Moon family.

Maddy watched surreptitiously, but with interest, as Hetty and Bertram chatted together, appearing to get along very well and to have plenty to say to one another. They had, of course, met before, being near neighbours in their respective work places. Maddy knew that Bertram was a bachelor, around thirty years of age, she guessed, and that he lived in the flat above his studio premises. The thought passed through her mind that they made a handsome couple. What a suitable match it might have been, but there remained Hetty’s problem…

After the trifle there were cups of strong tea,
without which no northern meal would be complete, poured from huge cream-coloured enamel teapots. Then it was time for the cutting of the cake and the toast to the bride and groom.

Katy and Patrick posed with the silver knife between their clasped hands, ready to plunge it into the bottom layer of the cake. It was two-tiered, a superb creation covered in pure white icing, decorated with pink rosebuds and, in the centre, small china figures of a bride and groom. The Moon family knew that it would taste just as delicious as it looked because it had been made and iced by their esteemed cook and housekeeper, Mrs Baker, who was an honoured guest at the reception.

Bertram Lucas disappeared behind his black curtain, there was a sudden flash, and Katy and Patrick were captured in a photograph for all posterity. When the applause had died down William rose, glass in hand, to propose a toast to the happy couple. They were not sticking strictly to the protocol as to how things ought to be done at weddings. This was a friendly family occasion and it had been agreed that William Moon was the one most able to make the speech, certainly more so than the shy and retiring Horace Hancock, Katy’s rather elderly father.

‘Now, will you all raise your glasses,’ said William, ‘and drink to the health of the bride and bridegroom, my son, Patrick, and his lovely wife, Katy.’

‘Katy and Patrick…’

‘Good luck…’

‘Good health and happiness…’ The voices of them all, united in their good wishes, echoed around the hall. The drink was blackcurrant juice, such as was used at the Communion services in Methodist chapels. William and Isaac, and Patrick, too, together with several of his friends, enjoyed a glass of beer from time to time – strictly on the qt! – but now they were adhering to the principles of their religion, especially as they were on the chapel premises.

William spoke of how happy he was to welcome Katy into the family, and how pleased he was to see all the friends and relations who had come to share in their celebration. Patrick replied, amidst cheers and laughter, that ‘my wife and I thank you for being here with us and for all the lovely presents.’

There was not much ‘speechifying’ and the guests chatted amongst themselves, moving about the room to form and re-form in little groups whilst Katy, with her mother, retired to a side room to change into her ‘going away’ outfit. There was a cheer when she reappeared with Patrick at her side. His wedding suit, which he was still wearing, would be his best suit – apart from the funerals – for many years to come.

Katy looked just as lovely in the pink suit with the close-fitting jacket and broderie anglaise collar as she had in her bridal finery. A jaunty little
brimless hat covered in pink feathers perched on top of her dark curls.

The couple were to spend their honeymoon in Blackpool, a place that neither of them had visited before. And Maddy had recommended that they should stay at Mrs Jolly’s boarding house on Albert Road, where she had stayed with the Melody Makers on their spring tours. Patrick, unfortunately, could not be spared for too long away from the business. There had been two unexpected deaths in the town and the funerals had been booked for the end of the week. Also, Isaac had not been too well – he had been feeling much more tired of late – and so Patrick had agreed that they would spend only four nights in Blackpool and return home on Thursday morning.

They were to travel to the station in style, a very up-to-the-minute style. Patrick’s friend, Arthur Newsome, who had acted as best man, was in possession of one of the new Fiat motor cars. In possession for the day only, however, as it actually belonged to his father, who was an influential solicitor in the town. A few of these motors, along with Renaults and Fords and the – very occasional – Rolls Royce were to be seen on the streets of Scarborough now, alongside the horse-driven landaus and hansom cabs. This car, unlike many, could seat four and it had the added advantage, especially on a windy day, of being a closed-in model rather than an open-top.

The guests crowded onto the pavement outside the chapel as Katy and Patrick climbed into the back seat. Jessie, still in her bridesmaid’s dress, sat in the front seat. She knew Arthur from the cycling club and had eagerly accepted his offer of a ride. She was a keen cyclist, as was he, but this was much too exciting to miss.

‘Mind you don’t muck up your dress,’ said Maddy who, surprisingly, had not yet ridden in one of the new petrol-driven motors. ‘And take good care of that wedding bouquet!’ She winked slyly at her friend, looking meaningfully at Arthur, who was tinkering with the engine. When Katy had thrown her bouquet into the air it had been Jessie who had caught it, which, according to custom, indicated that she might be the next bride.

Jessie blushed crimson. ‘Shhh…’ she admonished her stepsister. ‘I’ve told you; he’s just a friend,’ she whispered as Arthur, having put down the bonnet, took his place at the wheel. But Maddy guessed that the two of them might possibly become rather more than friends.

She turned to her brother and his new wife. ‘Have a lovely time,’ she said, ‘and give my regards to Mr and Mrs Jolly. And all the very best of luck and…and everything, to both of you.’ She blinked away a tear as she saw her brother and Katy smile adoringly at one another.

Arthur started up the engine and the motor car slowly drove away in a cloud of smoke. Patrick and
Katy waved excitedly and the crowd of well-wishers waved back.

Grandad Isaac waved too. ‘Aye, God bless ’em,’ he said. ‘I’m glad our Patrick’s wed that lovely lass. I tell you what though, Will, lad.’ He turned to his son, who was standing at his side. ‘You wouldn’t catch me in one o’ them newfangled monsters.’

‘No, Father; so you’ve said before,’ smiled William.

‘And I hope I never live to see the day when they take over from t’ horses in our job,’ Isaac continued. ‘I’ve told you afore, lad. Over my dead body!’

‘I should imagine that motor-driven hearses will be many years ahead,’ replied William. But he knew that, possibly sooner rather than later, that day would come.

It was when they were back in the hall saying their goodbyes that Isaac clutched hold of his daughter-in-law’s arm.

‘Eeh, Faith lass,’ he said, putting his other hand to his chest. ‘I’ve gone all queer, like. I’ll have to sit down a minute.’

‘Here you are, Father,’ she said, pulling a chair forward and easing him into it. ‘It’s been an exciting day, and I expect you’ve got overtired…’ Then, ‘William…!’ she cried as her father-in-law clutched again at his chest and slumped forward. ‘William…your father…he’s ill. I think it’s his heart.’

By the time William had dashed across the hall from where he was standing talking to Katy’s parents, his father had fallen sideways in the chair, supported by Faith’s arm. His face was ashen as he gave a rasping gasp of breath. Then his head lolled crookedly and his arms fell limply to his sides.

‘Father!’ cried William. Gently, he eased Faith away and put his fingers to the pulse point on Isaac’s neck. ‘It’s too late,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I’m afraid he’s gone.’ Tenderly, he took off his father’s spectacles and closed the lids on the pale blue faded eyes.

Chapter Twenty-Three

B
ut he can’t be dead!’ cried Jessie. ‘Grandad Isaac? He waved to us, only half an hour ago, and he was so happy…’ She burst into tears and Arthur Newsome put a comforting arm around her. She leant against him, her ginger head resting against his shoulder. He was a head or so taller than Jessie, a serious-looking bespectacled young man. Maddy, watching them, felt a moment’s gladness, despite her sorrow. She had guessed that there was rather more than a friendship developing there.

Jessie had been very fond of Isaac Moon. He had become an honorary grandfather to her, far closer than her real grandparents, whom she saw only occasionally. Maddy felt sure that Jessie’s grief would be just as acute as her own.

‘It was a heart attack,’ said Maddy. ‘At least, that’s what we think. We’re waiting for the doctor to come and then…well, my father will see to what has to be done.’

‘Aye, we’ll take him home, and I’ll do what I can for him,’ said William. ‘When I say home I don’t mean our South Bay place; I mean North Marine Road. That was his home until the last few years.’

It had been both his home and his workplace. Isaac had grown up there as a lad and had stayed there helping his father to build up the reputation of the undertaking business of Joshua Moon and Son; afterwards to become Isaac Moon and Son. And now that was to change again.

‘What about Patrick?’ asked Maddy. Her brother was already on the train with his bride heading towards Blackpool. ‘Are you going to get in touch with him?’

‘No…’ William shook his head. ‘We’ll leave him be. Let the lad enjoy his honeymoon. Goodness knows, he’s worked his socks off recently. He’ll be back on Thursday, and that’ll be soon enough for him to know.’

‘I can’t believe it. I still can’t take it in,’ said Jessie in bewilderment. ‘To go so suddenly.’

‘He hadn’t been well for a while, you know,’ said Faith, putting an arm around her daughter. ‘He tried to hide it from us, but we’ve known for some time that he was slowing down.’

‘It’s only recently we managed to persuade him to see the doctor,’ added William. ‘He was told to take it easy, to remember that he wasn’t a spring chicken anymore. That made him even more determined to carry on, but these last couple of weeks…well, we’ve seen a big change in him, haven’t we, Faith?’

His wife nodded. ‘That’s true. And he wouldn’t have wanted to get old and infirm. I think you are right, William, not to let Patrick know. It’s what
your father would have wanted, for Patrick and Katy to enjoy their holiday. Father was so happy today, wasn’t he? So pleased to be welcoming Katy into the family.’

‘I thought Grandad Isaac would go on for ever,’ said Maddy. ‘I know I’ve said so before, but I can’t imagine him not always being there.’

‘Nor can I,’ added Jessie. ‘I did love him so much…’ She burst into tears again, letting go of Arthur’s hand, to which she had been clinging tightly and turning to her mother for comfort.

It was a sad ending, indeed, to what had been a most joyful occasion. Most of the guests, after expressing their condolences, had thought it was best to depart. Tommy and Tilly, bewildered at what was happening and not quite understanding it all, had gone back home with Mrs Baker. She usually had some time off on Sunday, but she had offered to take care of the twins until such time as Faith and the rest of the family returned.

Isaac had been laid gently on a piece of carpeting in a corner of the room. The doctor had been called as soon as he had collapsed although it had been obvious at once that there was nothing that anyone could do for him. By the time Dr Armitage, the Moon family physician, arrived, there were only the immediate family members still there, plus Katy’s parents and Arthur Newsome, who was loath to leave Jessie in her distressed state.

‘It seems that he had a massive heart attack,’ said
the doctor, when he had examined him. ‘He wouldn’t have suffered at all, apart from the initial pain. It may have been brought on by the excitement of the day, but it was inevitable.’ He signed a death certificate and he and William discussed how best to transport Isaac’s body to what had been his childhood home.

The doctor owned a large Daimler car, and he suggested that that would be the most dignified way for Isaac to travel on his penultimate journey. The final journey would be when he was taken from his resting place at his own premises to the cemetery on the outskirts of the town. Very carefully and reverently, he was carried out and placed on the back seats of the motor car – he was not a tall man – and then covered with the doctor’s travelling rug.

‘I shall stay with him…when I have done what is necessary,’ William told his wife. ‘You understand, don’t you, my dear?’

‘Perfectly,’ replied Faith. ‘The children and I will be all right on our own. You stay…with your father.’

Dr Armitage, who was a family friend as well as the doctor, helped to carry Isaac’s body into what was now Patrick – and Katy’s – living room. The premises had been somewhat altered over the years, but they had formerly been the home of William and Clara and, before that, of Isaac and Hannah, and of Isaac’s forbears too.

The doctor left, and as William performed the
last service he would ever do for his father, he recalled how he had done the same thing for his wife, Clara, seven years ago. Tenderly, he washed his father’s body, dressed him in a temporary shroud, then placed him in a makeshift plywood coffin. The coffin he intended to make for Isaac would be one of his very best, as had been the one for Clara: oak wood, polished to a high gloss, with handles of silver gilt and lined with ivory satin. He knew that his son, Patrick, would have felt privileged to take his part in the making of his grandad’s coffin, but it was better this way, William decided. When Patrick returned he would take his place at the funeral as the son, and not the grandson, of the business.

It was the end of an era. Very soon he would need to change the sign over the door and the wording on the notepaper and bill headings to ‘William Moon and Son’, no longer ‘Isaac Moon and Son’. But not yet, not yet…

For the moment, until he had been finally laid to rest, Isaac was the head of the firm and of the family. And William would remain there with him, sleeping in Patrick’s bed until his son and Katy returned.

The chapel on Queen Street was half full for the funeral of Isaac Moon, as it had been for the wedding of Patrick and Katy only ten days before. Many of the same people filled the pews, but this time as mourners rather than well-wishers.

The young couple had been shocked on arriving back home after a gloriously happy few days in Blackpool to hear that Isaac had gone; and that Patrick was now the son and not the grandson of the family firm. All the preliminary work, in which Patrick would normally have played his part, had been undertaken by his father. Isaac lay at peace in his splendid oak coffin, one of the very best that Moon and Son could supply. He had been a small white-haired, white-whiskered elderly man; but death, as so often happened, had taken away the age and care lines from his forehead and around his eyes, and he now looked serene, free from all anxiety.

It was the custom for the undertaker to walk at the head of the procession and William had asked Patrick if he would do the honours on that day. Prior to that, the coffin was carried from the old home that Isaac had loved so much, by William, Patrick, Samuel, and Joe Black, the assistant of the Moon family firm. A large wreath of white lilies, the family tribute, was laid on top of the coffin, covering almost the full length, and at the sides was a host of wreaths and sprays: roses, carnations, sweet peas, gladioli, in bright summer colours of red, pink, yellow and mauve; a vivid splash of colour seen through the glass sides of the hearse on what was a grey cloudy morning with, as yet, no promise of sunshine.

Patrick, wearing his customary black suit, black
gloves, black top hat, and with a black-bordered handkerchief in his breast pocket, led the procession the short distance from their premises to the chapel. Immediately behind him was the hearse, pulled by the two black horses, Velvet and Star. William, Samuel, Joe Black and several of the men who had been friends of Isaac for many years, walked behind the hearse, followed by Faith, Maddy, Jessie and Hetty in the family carriage, a horse-drawn brougham, such as William hired whenever one was required.

Throughout the service Maddy’s eyes kept straying to the coffin, resting on a bier near to the chancel steps. It was almost impossible to believe that there lay the body of her beloved grandfather and that she would never see him again. He had been a vital part of her life for as long as she could remember.

They sang one of his favourite hymns, ‘And Can it Be’, by Charles Wesley, and she could imagine Grandad Isaac’s voice joining in heartily, as he had done so many times.

If ever anyone deserved to go to heaven it was her grandfather; and despite the doubts that sometimes assailed her with regard to such matters, she felt sure that he was there now. And maybe he was
reunited with his beloved wife, Hannah, the grandmother whom she vaguely remembered.

The minister spoke of Isaac’s life and his work; his commitment to his chosen profession, to his family, and to his church. His many friends and his family would miss him sorely and mourn him for a time, but a character such as Isaac Moon would not be forgotten.

Maddy managed to keep her tears in check until the final hymn, ‘O Love that wilt not let me go’, another of her grandfather’s favourites, which spoke of the promise of eternal life.

Her tears overflowed and ran down her cheeks. She remembered talking to Susannah about the promise in the rainbow, and here it was again. Despite her tears the thought came to her that the future was not entirely dark and cheerless. There would come a time when they would remember Grandad Isaac with joy rather than sadness. Their memories of him would be happy ones; she had found that this had happened after the death of her mother; her grief had gradually changed to a glad remembrance.

And in another part of her life, too, Maddy was finding contentment. She had realised that she could not go on pining for a lost love for ever. She
was now able to look back on her time with Daniel with fondness and scarcely a regret, rather than banishing thoughts of him from her mind because they were too painful. Freddie had proved to be a very good friend to her. She had the feeling that he was only waiting for a signal from her before moving their friendship a step nearer to romance. Perhaps, one of these days…

She found herself smiling. Whatever was she thinking about, allowing her thoughts to wander at such a time? She composed her face again, wiping away the few tears that remained, but she could not still the feeling of joy and hopefulness that had stirred deep within her. She would regard it as a special gift from Grandad Isaac. He would have wanted her to be happy and to look forward.

The cemetery was on the outskirts of the town, and only the family and close friends gathered there. The committal at the graveside was heart-rending, as Isaac’s coffin was lowered on top of that of his wife, Hannah. Handfuls of soil were scattered on the top by William and Patrick. And then it was all over.

Mrs Baker, after attending the service at the chapel, had returned to the house on Victoria Avenue, with two more of the chapel ladies, to put the finishing touches to the funeral repast, which she had prepared beforehand. The curtains, kept closed since Isaac’s death, had been opened to let in the daylight. Fires had been lit in the dining room
and the lounge, adding a cheerful aspect to the greyness of the day. After the glorious sunshine on the wedding day the weather had been changeable, not at all what the holidaymakers in the town had hoped for.

Maddy, of course, had been given permission to miss the morning and afternoon Pierrot shows, but she had agreed that she would take part in the evening performance. She knew that that was what her grandfather would have wanted, and she intended to sing his favourite songs tonight.

The twenty or so guests who had returned to the South Bay house drifted between the two rooms, after helping themselves to the selection of savoury items and desserts, and a glass of sherry, or orange juice for those who were strictly teetotal.

Samuel, to Maddy’s surprise, had agreed to attend the funeral, although he had not been there for the wedding. But she supposed he could not do otherwise; even Samuel would not be so lacking in manners or decency as to stay away. She had spoken to him politely, quite affably, in fact, but no more than was necessary. He had stayed at the family home overnight but intended returning to Leeds later that evening.

She noticed that he was sitting next to Hetty on the settee in the lounge. She wondered what they were saying to one another, but on no account would she eavesdrop. Despite Hetty’s condition, which was still no more obvious than it had been a
week ago, she hoped against hope that the two of them would not get back together again.