Chapter 8
8
ZAC
As the ceremony ended, the opening bars of ‘My Heart Will Go On’ filled the room, proving that no one could say Aunt Audrey didn’t have a wry sense of humour. Everyone remained in their seats, some of them joining in, others just patiently waiting to be directed. The crematorium ushers appeared at the end of the front pew and beckoned the immediate family out, before moving down the aisle, making sure everyone filed out row by row. Zac placed his hand on his dad’s crestfallen shoulder, then walked slowly behind him, the last of the family line to exit the row.
As commanded by the end-of-life wishes of his wonderfully prepared Aunt Audrey, as soon as they got outside, he waited at the double doors of the crematorium, Jill and her husband, Archie, on one side of him, Hamish and his wife, Mandy, on the other, to shake the hands of the mourners who’d been good enough to come and pay their respects. Aunt Audrey was big on manners and traditions like that. Hopefully, if she was indeed watching from above, she’d understand that his dad had decided that he wouldn’t participate in the line-up, in contradiction of Audrey’s request. Zac hadn’t been surprised when his dad came over to whisper that he was going to head straight to the hotel, to make sure the tea and sandwiches (specification number eight on Audrey’s plan for the day) were ready and waiting for the mourners to arrive, because he had a feeling that his dad was just struggling with the emotion of it all, and the memories it was bringing up of the day, less than twelve months ago, when they’d buried his mum. Zac felt a comfort in being beside his cousins in this moment, but his dad had always been one to stay strong and stoic and deal with his pain on his own.
Every single person who came out of the building worked their way along the family line, some hugging, some shaking hands, the ones he hadn’t met usually introducing themselves before they expressed their condolences. Some even shared a little anecdote about Audrey and he reacted to them all with gratitude, touched that, just like his mum, she’d left her mark on so many people’s lives.
Zac had just shaken the hand of one of his aunt’s neighbours – ‘wonderful woman – she was the only one on the street who knew what colour bin went out every week; when she went on holiday it was chaos out there’ – when he turned to see that there were only two people left. Must have been the ones who’d sat in the back row.
Both were women, the first, a striking vision, in a black furry jacket, which was the opposite end of the colour spectrum from her pale blonde hair, cut in a razor-sharp edge around her neck, but weirdly wide like a motorcycle helmet.
‘My condolences to you all,’ she said when she reached him. ‘I’m sorry to say I never had the pleasure of knowing Audrey, but I wish I had. She sounds like some wumman. I’m actually here to support a friend who was close to Audrey’s sister, Morag, back in the day.’
It was so unexpected, it almost winded him.
‘That was my mum,’ he said.
‘Och, son, I’m so sorry. I heard the celebrant mention that she passed away last year. What a time you’ve had. My heart is sore for your whole family. You take good care of yourself. I’m sure your mum and your aunt would want that for you.’
‘They would. Thank you.’
He gave her hand a grateful squeeze before letting it go.
The very last mourner wrapped up her conversation with Jill, and moved along the line so that she was standing in front of him. He had no idea if this was the friend the other woman had been referring to, but she was a very elegant lady in a dark navy suit, her hair pulled back into a small bun at the nape of her neck.
He forced a tight smile as he reached out to shake her hand. One more mourner. Just one more. The cars were already lined up next to them, ready to take them to the hotel.
‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ she said in a very soft, polite voice, that was nothing like the gravelly brogue of the woman who’d gone before her.
‘Thank you. It was very kind of you to come today. I’m Zac. Audrey was my aunt.’ He must have made that introduction twenty times in the last half an hour.
‘So I guess from the accent that you must be Morag’s son,’ the woman said. ‘I was so sorry to hear that she’d passed away. I came here today to pay my respects to Audrey, because she was always very kind to me, but I was actually Morag’s friend when we were growing up. To be honest, I was hoping that she’d be here and I’m so sorry that she isn’t. Your mum was a very special lady. I was sad to lose touch with her when she moved to Ireland.’
He lost interest in the fact that the cars were waiting, or that the other family members had now headed in that direction. This woman had known his mum before she went to Ireland. All he wanted to do now was speak to her, ask her a million questions about the young Morag Corlan. Or Morag McTay, as she’d have been then.
‘So you knew her before she left Glasgow, before she had me?’ It was out before he’d thought it through, but if she thought it was a strange question, she didn’t show it.
‘Yes. We met when we started high school. And then, later, we worked together at the same legal firm. I was the receptionist, and she was one of the secretaries. We were best friends for many years. She was great fun and we had some wonderful times.’
This was totally intriguing. If they were such good friends, why had they lost touch? Why hadn’t his mum gone to see her when they came back on any of the twice-yearly visits to Glasgow that they’d made every year of his life? It didn’t make sense. He’d always known his mum to be a faithful friend who hung on to the people she loved. Her own funeral had been absolutely packed with pals that she’d met and kept close in her thirty years in Ireland. Now that he came to think about it, though, when they were in Glasgow, the only people she spent time with were family members. Why had he never questioned why she had no friends from here? And why was he only realising that now? Or was it just that his brain was so blown away by the questions raised by the strip of photos of his mum and dad on their first date, that he was questioning everything and nothing was making sense anymore?
The note of apology to someone he’d never heard of, and the photo booth snapshots were now burning a hole in the inside pocket of his jacket. He wasn’t sure why he’d brought them – it just felt right to keep something his mum had touched close to his heart, and he hadn’t wanted to leave them back at Aunt Audrey’s house in case his dad spotted them. His father had enough to deal with and Zac didn’t want to force him to have a tough conversation on a day like this – or on any other day.
‘Excuse me, Zac, but the cars are waiting for you.’ That came from Hamish, who’d come back to get him.
Zac felt his pulse quicken, realising that it was time to wrap up a conversation that he didn’t want to end. Maybe this woman was one of those people who exaggerated relationships and tried to make herself feel important by inserting herself into other folk’s dramas and heartache, but, truthfully, he was pretty good at reading people and didn’t get that vibe from her.
That thought gave way to another one. Maybe she’d be able to shed some light on the timescale of events, perhaps answer his question about the date on the back of the photographs. ‘I don’t want to put you on the spot, but are you coming back to the hotel for tea? I’d really like to talk to you a little more.’
‘I wasn’t planning to, but…’ The woman’s gaze went to her friend, the lady with the blonde hair, who was patiently waiting a few feet away, and he watched as they appeared to have a silent conversation that consisted of eyebrows raised in question, then very subtle nods, leading to, ‘Yes, okay. I’d be very happy to come back to speak with you. I think Morag would have liked that.’
Zac’s shoulders dropped in relief. ‘Thank you so much. I’ll see you there.’
He shook her hand again, then watched as she took a few steps towards her waiting friend. He turned around, ready to make his way to the large black vehicle only a few feet away, when he had a thought.
‘Excuse me,’ he called after her, keeping his voice as low as possible, so as not to be disrespectful to his surroundings. ‘I didn’t catch your name.’
The older woman turned, gave him an apologetic smile. ‘I’m so sorry. I should have introduced myself. I’m Alice.’