Going Under Cover

Chapter 6

6

The was a low humming noise as the bus slowly maneuvered itself down the small lane that unfortunately called itself a road.

The day was quiet, the voices of nearby chirping birds the only thing to be heard. Again it was stuffy and I fanned myself lightly before trying to pry open the window beside me. It was no good however, completely stuck shut. I groaned, laying my head against the coolness of the window.

It was a nice day, somehow extremely pleasant. There was no noise, no hushed whispers. Just silence among us fellow passengers, as if a word had passed that no one would speak. And I took to appreciate this small fact, enjoying the quiet time for once.

The day was in a way identical to the day of my arrival into the village of Longhall. The sun had been shining, there were no clouds present and the green fields had look beautiful as they quickly flew past the window.

And as I had already said, I blamed that sun for my now prison. I couldn't escape Longhall. Here, I was stuck. For now and forever.

I sighed gently, letting my eyes wander around the almost empty space. I had taken the back seat, so I knew that nobody was watching me as I gazed around at the strangers.

Yesterday had been an odd day. I seemed to turn numb as I realized how bad that situation actually was. It frightened me how scared I was, how vulnerable I felt. Ryan Adams lived a couple of houses down from me and from what  had heard all day, it had been a robbery that had gone wrong. Horribly wrong.

So wrong that it had led to Ryan's premature death.

I would not mourn over his death for long, we had not been close after all. But I would miss his smile, that I knew. And his cute inability to talk. He was nearly as bad as myself and that was saying something. I would, in my own way, miss the man that I had known as Ryan. The Ryan who came into my shop and bought milk. The Ryan who had a sweet-tooth for doughnuts.

And in that way I would miss his company.

And I didn't like the feeling that I was left with.

I had even managed to shock myself last night as a few silent tears escaped my ducts. I had even told myself earlier that he was a man who I would not cry over and then what did I turn around and do? Cry.

I hated myself for it.

Father Roche, the local priest, had visited me later that day and told me to inform everyone that Ryan's wake would be this Friday and the funeral mass and burial on Saturday. He had sounded sombre as he had spoken, his eyes holding a sadness that I didn't quite understand. Or maybe it was just because I couldn't fully see his eyes as his loose skin hung down over them.

Father Roche was an old man for sure. How he kept going everyday was beyond me. Still, I wouldn't ever question him about it. Nor would I suggest that he take it slow.

He was his own man after all.

I didn't know if I would actually go to the wake or the funeral. I didn't know Ryan all that well, even though I had shed a few tears for the lost man.

But considering that I had gone to Sarah and Damian's wedding, it was the least I could do.

I let myself think about Betty once more and pondered whether she would attend mass. I don't think Father Roche would like it if she did considering her occupation and all. But who knows, Betty was stubborn and if she wanted to g then she would and no one would question her.

Not me anyway.

The baby that sat about two seats in front of my started to wail, drawing me from my wandering thoughts on Betty. So much for silence, I thought bitterly as the little girl's mothered leaned down and gave her a scolding. At that I grinned. Not many parents are as strict as that nowadays and it was oddly refreshing to see.