Retribution - A Dish served Cold

Chapter Five

The air in the ancient church chilled those waiting for the padre to arrive. John nodded to Elsie's friends seated in the middle pews and dressed as if ready for an arctic adventure.

He stood next to the coffin, bowed, rested his arms on the stained oak. With his hands together as if in prayer, he peered skyward. Hope this is what you would have wanted, Elsie. We never discussed this part of our lives. Even when we met, we never talked that much about anything, and now my big sister, you've gone. With a final touch of the coffin, he turned and walked straight to the front pew. The presence of a loving God never fitted in with the pain one human being could inflict on another. His sister believed in the resurrection and was now in a better place.

He forced himself to sit upright and not slouch. The clip-clop of high heels on flagstones echoed off the stone walls. He turned to trace the sound.

Angela, dressed in black, came and sat beside him. "Thought you might like some company."

Her dark eyes mesmerised him. He gave her left hand a gentle squeeze and whispered, "Thanks."

The padre, his pale face clean-shaven, motioned for those there to rise.

The service wasted no time, but the vicar did ask John to say a few words.

He nodded and stood in front of the alter. His eyes contacted those there. "Thank you for taking the time to come and say farewell to one of the good people.

"Every one of you here today knew my sister Elsie. She had the warmest eyes you can imagine that put every new mother at ease during the act of childbirth. She was the voice of experience during the pain. During these times, she held hands and wiped away tears of joy. The good births and those not so good. Christenings, weddings and the occasional funeral, she was always there. Today we remember her as someone who helped others."

Shaking inside, John returned to his seat.

"Thank you, John." The padre gazed at the congregation. "Today is a celebration of Elsie's life and achievements. She spent over thirty years as a midwife. I did a small calculation. Our town has a total of twenty thousand residents. If you allow the birth of one child a day, it amounts to eleven thousand children. Doing what she knew best, Elsie must have touched every family in Bellstead. How many of us can make such a claim?" When he looked up from his notes, there were no dry faces. "Let us pray."

John raised his head as the pallbearers gathered around the coffin and carried it to the grave.

The padre followed and motioned to John and Angela. With heads bowed, those present attended the graveside.

The padre took his position as, with care, four sombre dressed men lowered the coffin into the ground.

John produced a single red rose and dropped it onto the polished wood. "Goodbye, Elsie. Sleep well." He thanked the padre and strode away with Angela at his side.

"Your words in the church were from the heart, but the single rose was the perfect touch," said Angela.

John shook his head. "I didn't think about what to say. Since my wife died, grief has stalked me, but with each passing day, the pain lessens. When I remember, I think of happy times, laughter, fun, you know those thoughts that block out what you choose to forget."

Angela turned her face to look at him. "There's much more to you than you show to the world. You're a bit of a softy."

He laughed. "Me? You're thinking of someone else. Angela, my big sister was sixty and due to retire from the maternity home in a few months. She never harmed a soul in her life." He stopped. "One moment, I need to have a chat with the gravedigger. You can wait here on the path or come with me in those heals."

She glanced at the muddy ground. "I'll wait."

He strolled across the grass towards a tall, bearded hulk of a man wearing overalls and wellington boots. From his jacket, John removed a white envelope.

"Morning, Richard." He handed him the envelope. "As agreed."

Richard shoved it in his pocket and nodded as he shovelled dirt into another grave.

John turned and returned to where Angela was standing.

She placed her arm in his as they walked. "What's your plan for the rest of today?"

"Don't laugh, but I'm going to buy a bike."

"Why?"

"To keep fit, and it saves time searching for a parking space. Leaving my car on double yellows is no longer an option."

She chuckled. "That sounds far too sensible. It smells of an ulterior motive."

"Don't tell me you're a truth-seeker."

"Not at all. You were determined, full of purpose, and the best detective in this area. No one can better your record of clearing cases and seeing the offender convicted. You will make the Little brothers suffer." She chuckled. "But you on a bike, I can't see it happening."

John nodded. "You're right about one thing. I do have a few plans for the brothers. Fancy a pie and pint?"

"You're changing the subject."

"Ten out of ten for observation, but you didn't answer my question."

"You're a strange but easy-going man. Yes, why not? Which pub?"

He pointed along the road. "The Lion and the Unicorn. Homemade pies that are to die for. Let me buy you lunch."

"I make a wild guess you eat there every day."

"Saves cooking and washing up."

She laughed. "Typical. You don't have to tell me, but how exactly are you going to deal with the Little brothers?"

For an instant, his grin unnerved her, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

When they entered the pub, he rubbed his hands together. "Decisions, decisions. Steak pie or Chicken and mushroom?"