Читать книгу A Mother’s Spirit - Anne Bennett - Страница 10

The news that he was engaged to Gloria Brannigan, Joe found opened doors to him, even if many people did view him with suspicion, doubting his intentions were really honourable. One of those doors was to the club that Brian attended.

Brian had taken Joe to the club quite a few times but he had always had to sign him in as a guest, but after the engagement he had been made a full member and he enjoyed the privileges this offered, though he always kept well away from the gaming rooms. He had gone in with Brian once and had been appalled at the money gambled away. Brian loved the thrill of it and was a regular, but it left Joe feeling cold and rather odd when he saw Brian raise the stake in a poker game for the amount that the average working man would barely earn in a month of back-breaking work.

He was amazed too by all the fuss a marriage of this magnitude caused. Norah and Gloria were either poring over fabric patterns for the drapes and discussing colour schemes, or shopping together for Gloria’s trousseau. The wedding dress she was having made seemed to need endless fittings, as did the bridesmaid dresses for three of her school friends. Then there the flowers to choose, cars to order and invitations to send.

‘Let them be,’ Brian advised when Joe complained of this. ‘Women and weddings go together like peaches and cream.

Mind you, we’d better be thinking about ordering our suits soon.’

‘I have half a dozen decent suits,’ Joe said. ‘I wasn’t going to go to the expense of buying another. I was just going to buy a new shirt.’

Brian smiled. ‘You really have got to stop thinking of the expense of things all the time,’ he said. ‘Those days are over for you and, anyway, you haven’t a morning suit or top hat, and that is what will be required on the day.’

‘Oh, surely not, sir,’ Joe said.

‘I am afraid so. All the men will be dressed the same,’ Brian said. ‘And you will have to think of your best man. Will you be asking the man that sponsored you? Patrick something, wasn’t it?’

Joe shook his head. ‘The friendship was spoiled between us when I passed my exams and you took me into the house to live. I haven’t seen him since then.’

‘Hmm, a pity.’

‘A great pity, sir,’ Joe said. ‘But there it is. In fact, the only one in the house that was pleased about my success that time was Planchard, and I think that he will do well enough.’

Brian nodded. ‘He is a good man. So he will have to get kitted out as well.’

‘Couldn’t I just hire a suit, sir?’

‘Stop calling me sir,’ Brian said. ‘You will be my son-in-law soon and my name is Brian. No, it would not be good form for you to have a suit on hire. The bridegroom needs his own.’

‘But when would I ever need it again, sir?’

Brian shrugged. ‘Who knows? Another wedding maybe, or other society dos where a morning suit is the appropriate and expected dress. Look,’ he went on as Joe still looked doubtful, ‘on your marriage you will become my business partner. Whatever people say, first impressions count, and so it is important to me that you have the correct clothes to fit these occasions.’

It was the first time a partnership had been mentioned and though Joe was undoubtedly pleased he was also a little unnerved. But if Brian had decided then that was how it would be, he knew, and it would be another change in his life that he would eventually get used to.

The morning of the wedding, 16 October 1926, Joe was spirited out of the house and into the white limousine to take him to the church early, lest he should cast his eyes on Gloria’s dress before the service and so bring bad luck upon the marriage. His morning suit felt stiff and uncomfortable, and he marvelled that Planchard looked so good in his. Brian was right, though, Joe noticed, as the car pulled up in front of the church and he saw some of the guests arriving: the women were dressed in a variety of outfits, but the men, without exception, were wearing morning suits. He would have looked decidedly out of place in anything else.

The church was filling up nicely as he and Planchard walked side by side down the aisle to sit in the pews to the right and await the bride. Joe felt as if all his nerve endings were exposed and he found it very hard to sit still.

‘You’re like a cat on hot bricks, sir,’ Planchard said.

‘I know,’ Joe said. ‘It’s the waiting. I never could abide waiting. You sure you’ve got the ring safe?’

‘We checked before we left the house, remember?’ Planchard said with a smile.

‘Just wanted to be certain.’

‘Relax.’

‘God, I only wish I could,’ Joe said. ‘We seem to have been sitting here for ages.’ But then the strains of the Wedding March could be heard, and he followed Planchard out of the pew to stand before the altar. Behind him, he could hear the shuffling of feet as people stood, and he was aware of sniffing and snuffling as some women began to cry.

He turned and watched Gloria, on the arm of her father, walking slowly towards him. She looked so lovely, so utterly radiant, that he felt as if his heart had stopped beating for a moment or two and he knew he loved her with all his heart and would do so till the breath left his body. He stepped forward to stand beside her. Her father released her into Joe’s care and Gloria passed her bouquet to one of her bridesmaids. Then, taking each other’s hand, they kneeled together at the rails as the Nuptial Mass began.

Joe was pleased, walking out of the church with his new bride on his arm, to see so many had come to wish them well. As it was Saturday the factory was closed. Bert Clifford and his wife had reserved seats towards the front, but Joe was touched to see how many other employees had turned out too.

There were others from the church, and some of the men he knew from the club, with their wives and families. He saw many of the men’s eyes were on Gloria and he knew that more than a few would be envious of him.

Kate had surpassed herself with the sumptuous meal she had prepared. She might not approve of the wedding at all but she was too proud of her culinary skills to produce anything substandard. The centrepiece was a four-tier wedding cake. Brian cracked open wines he had laid down in the cellar before prohibition began, and a fine time was had by all.

Joe and Gloria were spending that night in their suite of rooms in the Brannigan house before setting off the following day for a fortnight’s honeymoon at Lake George in the Adirondack Mountains. Brian had highly recommended the location, where he had been himself as a young man.

All in all, the day had been almost perfect and Joe settled in his bed that night with a sigh of contentment. Gloria went into his arms willingly and when he kissed her lips, teasing them open with his tongue for the first time, she murmured and held him tighter. When he went on to kiss her neck and then her throat she moaned with pleasure. That moan inflamed the impassioned Joe further, his pulse raced and he felt himself harden. He forced himself to go slowly knowing that, despite all her wildness, Gloria would be a virgin.

‘Don’t worry, darling,’ he said huskily, ‘I will try not to hurt you at all,’ and he began gently to remove her nightdress.

Immediately Gloria slapped his hands away. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Didn’t your mother speak to you about what might happen tonight?’

‘A bit …’

‘What did she say?’

‘She said that you might ask me to do things I might find strange, but I must submit to them because I am married to you now.’

‘Is that all she said?’

Gloria shrugged. ‘Mostly. At least she said that men always seem to set great store by it, and that it’s really not so bad when you get the hang of it; that I might even get to enjoy it myself sometimes.’

Despite Joe’s frustration he laughed. ‘Did you understand one word of what she was talking about? And did she explain what “it” was?’

‘No,’ Gloria admitted. ‘She might as well have been talking double Dutch, but I felt I couldn’t ask anything because she seemed so embarrassed, but I do know she never said anything about taking my nightdress off. I have never gone naked to bed.’

‘Darling, how can I make love to you if you are keeping your clothes on?’ Joe asked.

He suddenly felt sorry for Gloria. He had held back during the courtship and wanted to hold back no longer, for, though he hadn’t expected Gloria to be experienced, he did think she would at least have been informed. But now he dampened down his ardour, cuddled her in his arms and told her what married men and women did in bed together.

She was shocked initially, there was no denying that, but she wanted to please Joe and so she allowed him to remove her nightdress and submitted to his kisses. At least she began by submitting to them, but then it was as if Joe’s kisses unlocked the passion Gloria had suppressed. Joe’s hands stroking her body, fondling her breasts, and his lips nuzzling at her nipples caused sharp shafts of desire to shoot through her and she moaned and groaned with ecstasy. When Joe’s fingers slid between her legs, she arched her back. Joe knew she was ready and he was smiling as he entered her.

The sudden sharp pain caused Gloria to cry out and then it was forgotten as waves of exquisite joy swept over her again and again.

‘All right, my darling?’ Joe asked as they lay still, entwined together. ‘Did I hurt you?’

‘A little.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Never be sorry for what we did tonight,’ Gloria said. ‘You have made me happier than I can ever remember being.’

And she was, for she felt as if she had been engulfed with total bliss and her love for Joe was greater than ever.

Gloria and Joe returned from their wonderful honeymoon to find that Brian had bought them a Cadillac as a wedding present. With Joe at work all week, Gloria had charge of the car to go into New York on shopping trips, or to meet her friends for lunch, and in the evenings and at weekends she and Joe would often take off in it somewhere together. They had thought to begin a family straight away but each month they were disappointed.

They assured each other that these things take time, and meanwhile there were any number of distractions to be had in New York, and they had good friends to visit at weekends. They told themselves that they were young and free, and maybe it was as well to stay that way for a while.

However, they were fooling themselves. Each month Gloria’s longing for a child grew greater and she dreaded feeling the drawing pains in her stomach that meant they were once more unsuccessful.

Then just after Easter, Brian had a funny turn at work and Joe drove him home and sent for the doctor. He advised Brian that he had to take life at a slower pace if he didn’t want his heart to give out altogether. Joe had seen his father have the same warning and not heed it, but he had been a younger man then with no authority to tell his father what to do.

With Brian the relationship was totally different. ‘You have to do as the doctor says,’ Joe said. ‘What’s the point of having him come to see you otherwise? After all, I am here now. Over the years you have taught me well and you will be near at hand if I need advice.’

Brian knew that Joe spoke the truth, but he growled, ‘And what will I do all day? Now if you were to do the business and give me a grandchild, which I thought you would have done by now, I would be as happy as Larry to stay at home more.’

‘You can play about with your stocks and shares,’ Joe told him. ‘It’s what you love to do anyway. And didn’t the doctor tell you to take more exercise? A brisk walk every day would use up some of your excess time.’

‘You are ducking the issue, man.’

‘What issue?’ Joe asked, though he knew full well.

‘I want a grandchild to gladden my heart and give me a reason for living long enough to see him or her grow up.’

‘Aye,’ Joe commented wryly. ‘Well, we can’t always have what we want.’

‘Why’s that?’ Brian demanded. ‘Is there a problem? Shall I ask the doctor to take a look at you both?’

‘There is no problem,’ Joe said. ‘Leave well alone. These things take time.’ And surely, he thought, there couldn’t be anything serious wrong. He was as fit as a fiddle and so was Gloria, and he saw no reason why they wouldn’t soon have a child of their own.

However, the years passed and each month Gloria was sunk in despondency, especially as she knew her parents were waiting anxiously. She had a wonderful, happy life, money was no object, and she could have anything for the asking. Added to that she had loving parents and an adoring husband, and yet the thing she wanted above all this, a child, eluded her.

In the summer of 1929, when Gloria and Joe had been married almost three years, she said to him, ‘Don’t you think it’s strange that there has been no sign of a child, Joe? Maybe I should do what Mother wants and see the doctor?’

‘What can a doctor do about something like that?’ Joe asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Gloria said. ‘But it wouldn’t hurt to have a word.’

Joe said nothing else, but Gloria knew he didn’t want her to go to the doctor and discuss their most intimate affairs with him, and so she said, ‘I won’t bother the doctor yet. Maybe I’ll go next spring, if it doesn’t all begin naturally.’

She felt, rather than heard, Joe’s sigh of relief as he said, ‘Your father at least has something else to occupy his mind for now. He is buying shares left, right and centre, by all accounts. He doesn’t have to come into the office each day, but he insists, but I don’t let him do much. Actually he seems to spend most of the day on the telephone to the Exchange, buying and selling shares.’

‘He’s always been the same with stocks and shares,’ Gloria said. ‘I don’t really understand it.’

Joe shook his head. ‘I don’t want to understand it,’ he said. ‘Seems like a mug’s game to me. Even Bert’s at it. I thought you had to be really wealthy, but apparently not. You buy on something called a margin, Bert said. First a person borrows the money and then uses that to buy stock, so he can put the stock up as collateral. The whole thing is decided by the value of the shares, which apparently go up and down continuously. When they rise, you collect the dividend. Then if they drop, as they did earlier this month, he said you raise some more cash and wait for them to go up again. He wanted me to go in with him.’

‘I’m surprised that he wasted his breath on you,’ Gloria said. ‘You don’t even trust banks. You have a stash of money in a biscuit tin.’

‘What’s wrong with that?’ Joe said. ‘I have got along without stocks and shares this long while, and I will continue to give them a wide berth.’

About the middle of October, Joe became aware that Brian was worried about something and he asked him about it.

‘It’s nothing that you need concern yourself about,’ Brian snapped.

‘Stop that sort of talk, Brian,’ Joe snapped back. ‘I am your son-in-law and so everything that bothers you this much is my concern too. If it is connected to the business in some way, then I need to be told what it is.’

‘It only loosely concerns the business,’ Brian said. ‘And it’s all to do with the shares. They dropped in early October, but they did that last month too and recovered.’

‘And this time they haven’t?’

‘Not yet,’ Brian said. ‘They will eventually, but they are still dropping at the moment.’

‘Why don’t you sell up while you have the chance?’

‘I can’t do that, Joe,’ Brian said. ‘You don’t know how much is at stake. I would lose a packet if I sold at current rates.’

‘I hope for your sake that prices soon rise then.’

‘You worry too much, Joe,’ Brian said. ‘I have been doing this for years. And the uneasiness sort of adds to the excitement.’

It was excitement that Joe could well do without, and he saw Brian develop deep furrows across his brow and down each side of his nose, and sometimes he looked quite grey. Joe knew he was more worried than he was letting on and he was very concerned about him, but Brian refused to talk about it.

The following week, Bert sought Joe out. ‘I am selling my shares back to the bank tomorrow,’ he said. ‘The boss should do the same. I tried telling him and got my head bitten off for my trouble. He said he’ll lose money. Hell, I will lose money, but at least this way I’ll get something back. People say the stock market is going to crash. Try talking to him, Joe. He listens to you.’

‘Not at the moment he doesn’t,’ Joe said grimly. ‘But I will do my best.’

Brian, however, was intractable. ‘People are getting fearful, that’s all,’ he told Joe. ‘They just have to hold their nerve and sit tight.’

The following day, Bert told Joe of the agitated crowds of people who had flooded the Exchange, frantically trying to redeem their shares. ‘Good job I went early,’ he said. ‘For all that there was a mile-long queue already there, at least I got in. Some poor devils didn’t. When the hall reached what they considered capacity, they just shut the doors. People were hollering, crying, screaming in the streets, banging on the doors. I tell you, Joe, it was mayhem, and some of those who got in got no money, for the Exchange just closed down, couldn’t cope at all. God Almighty, Joe, where will America be after this?’

Over the weekend, the market seemed to recover a little and there was a glimmer of hope that it would bounce back as it had so many times before. Brian had a smug, ‘told you so’ look on his face as he read the financial papers. But, by Monday the shares began spiralling down again and the evening papers were full of doom and gloom, and bad forecasts of worse to come. Brian decided he had to go down to the Exchange and see how things were for himself, and so on Tuesday morning, without a word to anyone, he got up early and left the house.

The streets around the Exchange were busy for that hour in the morning, and in the milling crowds around the closed doors the desperation and panic could almost be felt. Brian felt the knot of worry he had carried for a few weeks harden and he was suddenly filled with dread. No one spoke to averyone else, and even avoided eye contact. Brian admitted for the first time that he might have made a ghastly mistake. It seemed hours later that the staff began arriving and then the crowds surging against the doors burst them apart.

The sheer number of people streaming in that day made it impossible for the staff even to attempt to try to close the doors again. Brian stood cheek by jowl with his neighbours and saw the shares drop that first hour more than they had ever dropped before.

The ashen-faced people began to shriek and scream, and then the massed crying of wretched people settled to a loud hum of profound distress that filled the room and rebounded off the walls. There was pandemonium on the Exchange floor, and Brian saw some men grab frantically at their collars before collapsing beneath people’s feet. Brian didn’t blame them; it was only the people pressed all around him that were keeping him upright, for he knew he too was ruined. His major investments were in radio and steel, and when the value of them dropped so low they were worthless he knew his life was effectively over.

Stumbling through the door and into the street, he began to lurch from one side of the sidewalk to the other as if he was in the throes of drink when really he was trying to come to terms with the anguish and wretchedness that he was going to inflict on those he loved best in all the world. He walked for miles and for hours, trying to ignore the sharp pains shooting across his chest, but when eventually the cold and darkness caused him to head for home he knew what he was going to do.

There had been a little concern when there had been no sign of Brian when the house was astir that morning. When he hadn’t made an appearance or contacted anyone, either at the factory or the house, Joe had come home early, intending to take the car out and look for him.

He was in the bedroom, changing from his suit when he heard the loud hammering on the front door.

‘Thank goodness, that must be Daddy now,’ said Gloria, who had followed Joe upstairs. And then, just a few minutes later, they heard Norah’s cry of distress.

The knocking on the door had been so loud and insistent it had brought Norah from the drawing room, and so she was in the hall as Planchard crossed it and opened the door to see his master holding the evening paper in his hand, leaning heavily against the doorjamb. He looked as if he had had a skinful, although there was no smell of drink upon him at all.

‘Are you all right, sir?’ Planchard said, going forward to support him.

Norah gave a little gasp of shock, seeing Brian brought into the light, leaning heavily against the butler. His face was grey, even his lips had no colour, and his rheumy eyes were red and bloodshot with huge fleshy bags beneath them.

‘Oh, Brian, my darling,’ she cried. ‘What in God’s name has happened to you?’

She went forward, her arms outstretched, but before she reached him he said sharply, ‘Leave me be.’ Norah stopped, unsure what to do as Brian said to Planchard, ‘You leave me be, too.’ He pulled himself away from his butler’s arm, stood for a moment as if to regain his balance, and staggered off towards the study. Planchard and Norah looked at each other, worry etched on both their faces as Joe and Gloria came running down the stairs.

‘What is it, Mother?’ Gloria cried. ‘What’s happened?’

‘It’s your father, dear,’ Norah said. ‘There is something the matter with him. He is ill. I have never seen him like that.’

Joe looked across at Planchard, who said, ‘The mistress is right, sir. There is certainly something very amiss.’

‘Where is he now?’

‘He went towards the study,’ Norah said.

Joe was his making his way there when he heard the shot and it galvanised him into action. Norah gave a shriek and Planchard, who had been returning to the kitchen, was side by side with Joe as they reached the study door with Norah and Gloria behind them.

It was locked and bolted, as Joe had expected, and he rattled it and shouted, but there was silence.

‘We will have to break it down, sir,’ Planchard said, and Joe nodded.

The panel split the second time they hit it, and then Joe was able to get his hand in and open the door from the inside. They were too late, Joe saw that at a glance, and he felt his heart contract as he saw Brian at the desk, his head fallen forward in a pool of blood. There was a neat bullet hole in his skull and the gun that fired it had fallen from his hand on to the blood-splattered paper that read

I’m sorry.

Love you all.

Brian

It was so absolutely horrendous it was almost unbelievable. Joe steeled himself to put his fingers to the pulse on Brian’s neck, knowing it was useless, and then Gloria burst away from Planchard, who was trying to prevent her and her mother going too close. But they had seen enough. Gloria let out an almost primeval howl and sank to her knees, and Norah fell unconscious to the floor.

Joe felt numb with shock, but his first duty was to his wife and then his mother-in-law. He lifted Gloria into his arms and held her shivering form as he said to Planchard, ‘Can you manage to get your mistress upstairs?’

‘I’ll see to her, sir,’ Planchard said. ‘And shall I phone the police after I have phoned the doctor?’

‘Police?’ Joe repeated. ‘I hadn’t thought of the police but I suppose they need to be informed, so if you would … And anyone else you think we might need to call. I can’t seem to be able to think straight at the moment.’

Planchard looked at Joe’s drawn, ashen face. ‘Don’t worry, sir. Leave that side of things to me.’

The servants, many in tears, were clustered in horrified confusion in the hall, unsure what to do. When Mary stepped forward to help Joe with Gloria he waved her away. ‘I will manage her,’ he said. ‘But your mistress might need your attention.’

Gloria leaned against Joe as he carried her up the stairs. Laying her gently on the bed, he said, ‘Planchard is calling the doctor, darling. I’m sure he will be able to give you something to ease you.’

‘What good will the doctor do me, Joe?’ Gloria asked sadly. ‘He cannot bring Daddy back.’

Joe sat down on the bed and tenderly stroked Gloria’s hair away from her forehead. ‘I really do understand how distraught and devastated you are feeling at the moment.’

‘I will never see him again,’ Gloria said, covering her face with her hands. ‘I’m not sure I can bear it.’

Joe put his arms tight around her and murmured into her hair, ‘You will, my dearest, darling girl. It will take time, but I will be by your side always, helping you in any way I can.’

‘Oh, Joe!’ Gloria cried, and the tears came then, not the quiet, controlled weeping she had already done, but like an outpouring of her very soul. The sound of Gloria’s sobs rasping in her throat cut Joe to the quick, and he held her shuddering body in his arms.

He remembered the doctor expressing surprise and concern that his mother hadn’t cried when his father had dropped dead of a heart attack. Whether tears would have helped a woman like his mother he wasn’t sure, but in Gloria he saw them as a good sign, and so he didn’t urge her to stop crying, but just held her trembling body close, rocking her slightly and feeling her tears dampen his jacket.

Eventually, when she was calmer, he laid her head down on the pillow. Her face, he noticed, was as white as lint and her eyes looked larger than ever and puffed up from the tears.

‘Why did he do it, Joe?’ she asked. When Joe shook his head helplessly she added, ‘It’s something to do with those blessed shares, isn’t it?’

‘Quite possibly,’ Joe said. ‘But we might know more later. Planchard is informing the police, but you needn’t concern yourself with any of that. To sleep would be the best thing for you.’

Gloria said nothing. She knew that the only way sleep would help her was if she were to wake up afterwards and find the whole thing had been some horrible nightmare.

‘I must find out what is happening,’ Joe said. ‘I will send Tilly to sit with you.’

Downstairs he found Planchard waiting for him with the evening paper in his hand. ‘The master was holding this when he came in,’ he said, handing it to Joe. ‘Look at the Stop Press, sir.’

There in the hall, Joe learned what had caused his father-in-law to take his own life. He read of the Wall Street Crash, which had begun on a day the paper called Black Tuesday. Many people faced ruination because of it, and some men, seeing this, found their hearts couldn’t take it and they had died there on the Exchange floor.

‘If it is as bad as that, maybe in the end Brian’s heart might have given out too,’ Joe said. ‘That would have been tragedy enough, but doing it this way – that’s so … well almost unbelievable. He is the very last man that I could imagine doing such a thing.’

The doctor, who had known the Brannigan family for years, was terribly shocked and upset by the news that Brian had felt driven to kill himself after the news he had heard about his shares. He went into the study first, looked down on the body of the fine man he had known Brian to be, and felt the pity of it all wash over him.

Brian had no need of his services now and he followed Joe up the stairs to see how the man’s wife and daughter were coping.

‘I am worried about the mental state of both your wife and your mother-in-law,’ he told Joe, after examining them both. ‘I have given them each a strong sedative for now. At least they will sleep tonight and I will be back in the morning.’

‘The police are on their way,’ Joe said.

‘Well, I would say neither woman could help them in what is so obviously a terrible and tragic accident,’ the doctor said. ‘It could be very detrimental for them to be disturbed tonight.’

‘I’ll see they are not,’ Joe said firmly. ‘And I will make that clear to the police.’

In the end, he didn’t have to because the police saw straight away that Brian’s death was a suicide and they praised Joe for having the foresight to leave everything as it was until they arrived. Once the police left, Planchard phoned the undertakers to take the body away.

‘Would you like me to phone Bert too, sir?’ he asked. ‘I don’t think news like this can wait until the morning.’

‘No, you’re right,’ Joe said, ‘and he was worried enough when I told him that Brian had gone out this morning without a word to anyone. He was all for me leaving a little earlier so that I could look for him before true darkness really descended.’

Over the next few days, there was so much to do that Joe didn’t know whether he was coming or going. Everyone now knew what had happened, and not just in the Brannigan household either, for it was widely reported in the newspapers. An estimated thirty billion dollars had been lost in the Crash, and Joe felt as helpless as though he were on the edge of a precipice and about to fall into the dark void beyond.

Everything Joe had to do seemed to take so long and there were only so many hours in the day. He had thought arranging the funeral would at least be straightforward. However, when he went up to the presbytery to make arrangements with the priest, he told Joe that Brian should not be buried in consecrated ground because he had taken his own life.

Joe glared at him for a moment before saying, ‘And exactly who would that punish?’

‘It’s the law of the Christian Church, Joe.’

‘You can’t put the word Christian to a law like that, which serves only to shame and stigmatise the people left behind,’ Joe snapped. ‘They are already coping with the fact that their loved one is dead, and by his own hand. Have you the least idea what that feels like?’

‘But, Joe—’

‘There isn’t a but here, Father,’ Joe said. ‘Brian has donated enough money to this church over the years and, added to that, his plot where his father is buried, and where Norah will lie eventually, is bought and paid for.’

‘Money and even ownership of a plot doesn’t come into this, Joe. It’s a question of doing what is right.’

‘You will be doing something badly wrong if you refuse to bury Brian’s body in the churchyard,’ Joe said. ‘The doctor said the balance of Norah’s mind is precarious.’

The priest shook his head. ‘Obviously I feel immensely sorry for Norah, for all of you.’

‘Oh, good,’ Joe said sarcastically. ‘That will make all the difference. Look, Father, when Brian came home from the Exchange he was in a bad way. Planchard said that he thought Brian wasn’t totally sane at that point, which was just a couple of minutes before he turned the gun on himself. If he wasn’t in his right mind surely he can’t be blamed for his actions?’

‘Not if he wasn’t sane.’

‘Well, you know the manner of man he was,’ Joe said. ‘Could you see him ever even thinking about killing himself?’

‘No, Joe, I couldn’t.’

‘Well then, Father?’

‘All right, Joe, you argue well,’ the priest said at last. ‘Brian can have his Christian burial.’

Joe had been expecting the call from the solicitor, though he thought they might get the funeral over first, but it was the day before it that he was called to the office urgently. He was deeply shocked by what the solicitor had to tell him for he hadn’t dreamed that things could be so bad. He knew he had to deliver two new hammer blows to his beloved wife and his mother-in-law, and he didn’t know how in God’s name they were going to cope with them.

He decided to say nothing until the funeral was over, but that meant carrying the news alone, and he found it to be a heavy burden. He felt totally isolated, and bad that he hadn’t even had proper time to mourn the man that he owed so much to and thought so much of, for both Gloria and her mother looked to him for support. He couldn’t ever remember feeling so sad or so lost, not even when his own father died.