Story I'm working on

The wind and rain beat down on the little country church as the coffin was carried down the aisle. The packed church held only the sombre sound of the choir and the stifled cries and sniffling of running noses of the congregation. The young widow, dressed in black, tightly held the tiny hand of her five year old daughter as she walked slowly behind the coffin. Her baby boy was being cared for at home by her aunt. Unchecked tears slowing falling from her eyes she followed the coffin that carried the love of her life to the graveyard.

Maureen stood impeccably groomed in the gallery where she had full view of the church. She hated funerals. She looked around the church for her husband taking in the cobwebs and peeling paint she felt uncomfortable standing shoulder to shoulder with faces she recognised but couldn’t put a name to. She couldn’t see him anywhere. He was coming to the funeral with his brother. She knew he’d be late. The church was so full she could smell the sweat beneath the aftershave of the middle aged man standing beside her. The congregation shuffled out of the church behind the coffin following the concrete path to the dug grave. Maureen glared at the man next to her for standing on her new 4 inch heels. She was very glad she wore her long black rain coat and had the forethought to bring an umbrella.

The young widow was shielded from the rain by several black umbrellas held by her father and brothers not that she was aware of anything beyond her grief. The graveyard was full of his neighbours and friends. As the priest began the decade of the rosary neighbours spoke in hushed tones to each other, “shocking tragedy, the poor girl”, “and she after burying a baby already”. “Was he suffering from depression with long?” “You never know what goes on in someone’s mind” came the reply.  The villagers numbed by shock joined in prayer mumbling the response in dull harmony broken by the cries of the dead man’s five year old.  “Daddy, I want my Daddy” she wailed with outstretched arms. Her mother wrenched out of her grief by her daughters’ cries bent down to pick up the watery eyed girl.

The little girl kicked and wriggled to be free of her mother, now screaming as the coffin was lowered into the ground , “I want my Daddy back” A wave of gasps and gentle crying swept through the congregation as the prayers continued. The priest’s voice wavered for just a second and he continued in his soothing monotone voice “Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace.  Amen”.          Maureen’s eyes drifted across the crowd. She spotted her mother in law looking all serene and regal and thought Dave must be around there somewhere. Sure enough her husband was standing beside his Mummy dearest. She looked at him and admitted he looked handsome in his dark suit. She was maddened by the shirt he wore, a check shirt from Penny’s when his new Hugo Boss stripped shirt hung pressed in the wardrobe. She watched him as his left eye twitched as it did when he was anxious, only slightly noticeable, but it irritated her so much. To think that once she found this endearing and God help us, cute. What a stupid young girl she was then. So naïve and in love.                                                                                                              Her attention was brought back by the sobs of the little girl. Maureen watched the pretty blonde headed girl as she wept uncontrollably clutching the leg of her bewildered mother and thought what a lousy selfish fucker. He left them in a fine mess. The cows will still have to be milked and how will she cope with two children to rear. His grumpy old fella and harsh bitch of a mother to care for and living in the same house. She won’t even be able to claim of the insurance as he committed suicide. John was a first cousin of her husband.  Dave and Maureen where at Marie and John’s wedding. She guessed that when  Marie stood at the altar six years ago she didn’t count on being widowed at thirty one with two children,  saddled with his fathers debts and a farm that was being mismanaged for decades, but saddled she was. Still in time she’d get over it. Maybe she’d even be better off, she thought, free of her husband. If she’d have any sense she’d sell up and move on with her  life. Maureen looked back at her own husband.
A heat attack, an accident, a car crash would be very suitable. She wondered if she would shed tears at his graveside. The way she felt about him lately she couldn’t imagine that she would, nor him at her graveside either.  She asked herself what had changed since they where married twelve years ago to turn her feelings to utter hatred. She made a metal note to take another look at their life assurance policies. She felt she had to offer her condolences to the family and made her way over to her husband. “Hello Mary, very sad isn’t it” she said to her mother in law. The elderly women acknowledged her with a nod.  She stood beside her husband ever looking the strong couple as they queued with the hundreds of mourners to shake the hand of the widow. 

They drove home in silence together in Maureen’s car. They usually rowed over who drove but today she just let him take up position in the driver’s seat. She stared out the window. The rain had stopped and the grey cloudy sky was beginning to clear to sunshine. This pleased her as she wanted to finish weeding the flower bed at the back.                                                                      Dave lit a cigarette and left the window down a crack. He knew she hated when he smoked in her car but today he didn’t care and thankfully she didn’t feel the need to berate him for it. He found the funeral very difficult. He liked John, he was a few years older than him but often had a pint with him in Murphy’s after mass on Saturday night. He was quite but enjoyed the crack all the same. He couldn’t believe he committed suicide and left his young family. God he knew things were tough but to commit suicide. He couldn’t understand it. John always seemed a happy fellow, not one for going on foreign holidays but happy with his lot in life. Only the other day his mother and father spoke of how great John was to his parents and how he worked every hour God gave him to build up the farm. He wondered what would happen to the place now. John’s older brother wanted nothing to do with it maybe he’ll have to rethink things now. His father would never allow the farm to be sold but there’s probably loans to be repaid, God what a mess. 
He drove up the road to their house. Their house was a large Victorian farmhouse they bought ten years ago. They spent months looking for a small farm holding so he could set up a stud farm. They couldn’t believe their luck when O’Donoghue’s came on the market. He loved the fact it was close the village he grew up. He had discounted the dwelling house immediately, only looking at the potential for his new venture but the moment she saw the house it she fell in love. They restored the house to its former glory and now it stood impressively clad in Virginia creeper at the end of the long beech tree lined driveway.  It took them three long years restoring it room by room and on a tight budget but it was worth it. The garden was looking well he had to admit. Maureen was a keen gardener and definitely had a flare for it.
As he pulled up outside their home Maureen got out of the car. She loved how her garden looked after a shower of rain. It made everything seem more lush and bright. She delighted at the opening alliums and how last nights wind and rain hadn’t toppled them. Once inside the kitchen she removed her coat and turned on the tap to fill the kettle. Dave followed her inside dropping the keys on the worktop. The water spurted out the tap onto her suit. “When are you ever going to fix that fucking tap?” she shouted at him. She stormed out of the room and pounded up the stairs. He walked over and filled the kettle making a mental note to fix the tap once and for all. He went upstairs to take off his suit and put on working clothes. He watched her from the landing, God he thought she was beautiful. The pencil skirt she had on cut just below the knee showing off perfectly toned legs. She had put on a little weight lately filling out her bum perfectly. After three children she still had a flat stomach and full breasts a twenty year old would be proud of. Her long butterscotch coloured hair fell to her shoulder blades. Her perfectly manicured eyebrows framed her beautiful green eyes. As he walked into the room she flashed him a look daring him to speak.

He looked into her eyes desperately wanting to talk but she walked out of the room locking the bathroom door behind her. He didn’t even know they had a key for that door. Lately he felt she couldn’t bare to be around him. She usually snapped out of these moods pretty quickly but this had been going on a while. He sat on the edge of the bed. When was the last time they spoke properly, Christmas, no before that, he couldn’t remember. She came out of the bathroom in old blue jeans and a t-shirt her hair tied up in a pony tail and make up removed. God she looked twenty one again. She went downstairs and he could hear her in the kitchen making coffee before heading out to the garden. He felt no matter what he said it was wrong so why bother.  He got changed and his mind drifted to the young race horse he was training. He felt he was going to be a promising horse.
Maureen loved to potter about in her polytunnell. This was her space where she could unwind and forget about everything, her “me” time. She believed she inherited a green thumb her from her granny. Her Grandmother had a fabulous cottage garden stuffed to the brim with climbing roses, hydrangeas, dragon snap, lilies and every flower you could imagine.  She smiled when she thought of her grandmother. She was a little rotund woman and could always be found singing in the garden with her backside sticking out of a flower bed, her laddered brown tights stained with circles of dark red blood where her leg snagged on a thorny rose bush. Her head would appear eventually with sticky back weed in her unkempt hair and her face red from exertion  .
She remembered her first lesson in gardening. Her grandmother took Maureen’s eight year old  hand in her puffy arthritic hands with muck under her nails and emptied a packet of seeds into it. She showed her how to put a hole in the ground with her finger and pop the seed in. Next she covered it with soil. She let Maureen continue planting the seed under her watchful eye and when she was finished she broke a stick from the hedge and tied the upturned seed packet to it to service as a label. “Now we’ll see if we can make a gardener out of ya yet” she winked at Maureen with smiling eyes and a big satisfied grin on her rosy cheeks. Everyday for about two weeks Maureen would run to her Granny’s and check if her seeds had grown.
The first sign of the spindly green shoots excited her. She was so proud of her self and when she showed them to her Granny they had a celebratory glass of red lemonade and a chocolate digestive biscuits in the garden. From then on she was hooked. Her Granny would take her around her garden naming off flowers as she went, pointing out what needed pruning or dividing. She peppered her Grandmother with questions and the old women would always take the time explaining how to take a cutting or prune a rose brush. She was delighted to have someone to share her passion.  She helped her put in the spring bulbs and later on the dahlias. She never lost that childhood excited feeling when awaiting a flower to bloom.                                                  The arguing voices of her children getting of the school bus drifted up the driveway and brought her back from her reverie as she quickly tidied the potting bench in the tunnel and went back to the house wondering what she’d make for their tea.