Thicker Than Water....

Chapter 8 - Last Farewells

I had, thankfully, been left to my own devices over the next day. Other than my phoning Peter to let him know about the funerals, there been  no Kula, nor Peter, .....no dark angel or the 'ghoul' to interrupt my mental preparation for the saddest day of my life. My last farewells to my parents, as I had know them to be.

I had replayed my bathroom visitation in my mind's eye, over and over again.  It was a sobering, if somewhat depressing thought that now my waking life could also be plagued with these creatures.   I weighed up the two possibilities I now had - was it real or just a dream?  The latter was winning, due to the fact having thoroughly checked the room after the event, absolutely no evidence of anyone, other than myself being in there, had presented itself. 

I had politely declined Peter's offer of travelling with them back to my home in Selkirk.  I did not want Kula probing my subconcious again.  Nonetheless,  I felt obligated to invite them to stay at the house when they arrived in my hometown.    I couldn't tell Peter what had happened between us and I had gathered from our telephone conversation, that neither had she.  I overheard her in the background, telling Peter to say that she sent her love and hoped I was doing OK.  Fair enough.  It sounded genuine too.  I resigned myself to the fact that I couldn't hold any grudges against her.  She had her beliefs, and who was I to condemn someone for holding fast to their faith or opinions.  We could all be a tad inconsiderate at times, could we not?

So, I had thrown my cases into the back of my Mazda 3 (my birthday present from mum and dad) and started the journey home.  It would take me anything between 4-5 hours, depending on traffic.

When I turned into the driveway, I was more than annoyed to see Ian standing at the door.  I collected my bags, and slammed the car door.  "Been here long?" I pushed past him.

   "Eh - no actually," he almost looked embarrassed, but I doubted it. "About five minutes."

   "Why?  I didn't tell you when I'd be arriving."

   "Just checking."

   "On what exactly?"   I faced him squarely, holding his stare.   This time he did look affronted.  Good!  I wasn't in the mood for him hanging around.  "Well, whatever it is Ian, it can wait.  And, just so we are clear.  Your services are now employed by me, for the time being anyway," I said bluntly, hammering the key in the front door lock.  His eyebrows crawled a couple of inches up his forehead.  "So kindly wait until I ask you to come here in future."  I gave him one last, venomous look, before closing the door firmly behind me.  Once inside, I leaned against it.  Boy, did that feel good!  I was buzzing! Baby Si was jumping up and down championing my cause.  I mouthed an apology to the picture of my parents on the telephone table, but  I had really enjoyed telling that stuck up, greedy, peacock exactly where he stood with me.  Out of character, I admitted, but also out of this world on the " high" stakes.

Coming down from my euphoria, the cold realisation that I was utterly alone again, hit me hard.  There was no cheery "Hello hon," from my mum to greet me anymore.  No big, suffocating hug from my dad.

Nothing.

The house was way too big for me.  Five bedrooms, 2 bathrooms as well as 2 en-suite, a huge conservatory, dining room, sitting room, study and kitchen with utility room was surplus to my needs.  It was going to be so hard, sentimentally, to let it go, but I was pretty level-headed when it came to practicality.  For all my spoiled child-hood, I had never been materialistic.  Admittedly, the only thing I was interested in maintaining was the cottage in Tarbert.

All that could wait a while though.  I had the following day to contend with and if I wasn't mistaken, Peter and Kula would be arriving in the next few hours.  I decided action was needed.  I would have a quick look around to make sure the rooms were clean and tidy (not that my mother ever allowed her home to be otherwise) and I'd dash up to the shops for some essentials to make dinner.  I could cook pretty well.  Nothing of course, like Kula, or my mother for that matter, but I could throw together a pretty decent casserole and all the accompaniments.

I had just finished laying the cutlery and glasses out on the dining table, when the doorbell rang.  With a quick glance at my reflection in the hall mirror and a brush down of my clothes, I answered the door.  Peter was first over the threshhold and greeted me with a hug.  "Hi Sienna.  How was your journey down?"

   "It was fine,"  I said.  "I've readied the guest room on the first floor for you both."

   "Thanks...Oh! Something smells good!" He sidled past me and headed for the kitchen.  I turned back to the door.  Kula stood quietly with a look of intolerable sadness in her eyes.  I opened my arms to her.  A smile of gratitude brightened her face and she pulled me close in her usual sisterly hug.  "I'm so sorry, Sienna.  I didn't mean to upset you." she whispered.

   "I'm sorry too, big sista," I replied.  We laughed lightly, still hugging.  "Come on," I brought her inside.  "Dinner won't be long."

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I asked Peter and Kula to accompany me in the limousine to the crematorium.  They readily agreed.  We left the house at 10.30.  It would only take about 20 minutes to the crematorium, but I knew it would be the longest 20 minutes of my life.  Peter and Kula sat either side of me, each holding my hands gently.

We followed the hearses all the way, stopping momentarily outside the gates of the crematorium as we were just a little too early.  No-one spoke.  Then, slowly we moved on.  The limousine circled around in front of the doors to the church and gradually came to a final stop.  The driver opened the door of the limo.  First, Peter stepped out, then me, followed by Kula.  I hesitated at the entrance.  I knew there was nothing I could do to prevent the proceedings, and even if I could, to what avail?  My parents were gone, nothing could change that fact.  All that was left to do, was to say goodbye. 

We entered the church.  I was aware that there were quite a few of my parents friends, colleagues and  associates present.  I heard muffled sobs and whispers as we walked down the aisle to seats in the front, reserved for close family of the deceased.  I was once again infuriated, as I saw Ian Carter sitting in the front row.  This, I simply was not going to tolerate.  I moved ahead of Peter and Kula and stood at the end of the first row.  Ian looked up, a smug smile on his lips.  Kill him! At least we're in a place they can rid the body fast! Baby Si hissed.

   "This row is reserved," I said quietly, but firmly.  "Kindly take you place with the other mourners further back."

His smile quickly disappeared. It was replaced, momentarily, with a look of fury until Kula appeared next to me.  "Everyt'ing alright here, little sista?" Her voice was like velvet, yet held a threatening undertone.  I glanced back at Ian.  His demeanor had completely changed.  Whether or not he found the mysterious, dark-skinned woman intimidating or just  incredibly beautiful, it was hard to tell.  Whatever it was, he quietly rose and moved up near the rear of the church.

   "Thank you," I whispered to Kula.

   "No problem."

The service was very respectful and honoured my parents beautifully.  The minister must have done his homework, making the rounds in such a short space of time, asking their friends all about them. 

As the curtains closed and the two coffins were taken from my sight, finally, my tears flowed freely.  Kula put a comforting arm around my shoulders and escorted me down the waiting line of mourners who wanted to express their condolences.   They were all kind and considerate enough not to prolong the agony with endless words of sympathy.  She deliberately steered me quickly past Ian Carter though. We were given quick passage to the waiting limo.

Ian, to his credit I suppose, had organised a wake in the County Hotel, but I was not up to going through the attempts at pleasantries, chit-chat and walks down memory lane.  I excused myself from it, expressing that I wished for all present to go and partake of the refreshments laid on.  I tried to make Peter and Kula stay too, but Kula refused to leave my side.  She suggested to Peter that he go, out of respect and as a representative for me.  He nodded in agreement.

With one last look at the church, we stepped into the limo.