
Fantasies Incorporated: The Wake
By: Bridy McAvoy
All rights reserved
Copyright © Jan. 2009, Bridy McAvoy
Cover Art Copyright © Sep 2009, Brightling Spur
Bluewood Publishing Ltd
Christchurch, 8042, New Zealand
www.bluewoodpublishing.com
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Bluewood Publishing Ltd
Special Note: This book contains UK Spellings.
Smashword Edition – License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase another copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book, and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your own use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
Dedication
To everyone who helped me write this. Especially my husband who encouraged me to explore my fantasies in print.
The Wake
She had managed to keep a straight face all through the service but now as the vicar led the final prayer and the wooden coffin began to slide through the curtains to its fate, she couldn’t hold it back anymore.
“Chris . . .!”
The anguished cry tore itself from her lips and her shoulders began to shake as she sobbed. Besides her, Joanne, her sister put her arm around her to comfort her; tears visible in her eyes as she tried to comfort the young widow. Finally the curtains swayed back into place as the coffin disappeared from their view forever and Joanne felt her sisters’ shoulders stiffen as the sobs subsided. She nodded at the funeral director Charles, who stood, his professionally solemn face masking his own feelings at the death of his best friend since childhood.
The soberly dressed man stepped forward and helped Joanne to guide her sister to her feet and with this the rest of the ushers, coffin bearers at the start of the service, ushers now, began to organise the congregation for an ordered passage from the chapel.
Outside Allison stood there in her long black dress with the veil still hanging over her face looking bleakly out at the flower tributes to her husband, taken from her by cancer after only two years of marriage.
The other mourners, family, friends and acquaintances were lined up to give their condolences. Chris’ mother Pat, hugged her and took her place alongside Allison to accept the condolences of the line of mourners who were slowly filing past the flowers. Her own husband had been cremated here less than a year before and she knew exactly how Allison was feeling but her own grief prevented her from helping the daughter-in-law she adored.
Finally the long queue of mourners completed their pilgrimage through the flowered wreaths before dispersing across the car park to make their own way to the wake.
Allison’s sister and mother-in-law climbed into the second of the stretch Volvos to make their own journey leaving Allison, as she had requested, alone for a couple of minutes with the flower tributes before she climbed into the first of the waiting cars.
* * * *
She was alone in the back of the car and felt lonelier than she had ever done so before despite Charles and the driver sitting in the front. Chris had arranged all of the details of the funeral himself when he had known the cancer was going to take him. His best friend had promised him to take care of all of the details and Allison hadn’t had to deal with a thing since her beloved husband had passed away peacefully in a drug induced coma six days earlier.
He had even told her what to wear to the funeral because he said that knowing what she was wearing underneath wasn’t entirely appropriate would send him off to meet his maker with a smile on his face. Now alone in the back of the car she began to cry again.
Lost in her thoughts, her sight blurred with the tears of her inconsolable loss she failed to notice the car turn off from the main road just after leaving the crematorium. She did notice when it bumped onto a more uneven surface and moved slowly up a steep hill, a hill she knew wasn’t on the route from the crematorium to the wake.
“What . . .?
Allison looked out of the windows in confusion.
“It’s ok. Chris told us to bring you here.”
The deep melodious voice of Chris’ friend Charles calmed her as her eyes finally registered where they were. The car pulled into the small, deserted, car park behind the layered rock formation that earned this small park its name. Before Chris was ill it had been one of their favourite places to visit and now by the way Charles was acting they were here by Chris’ request.
The driver opened the door for her and she stepped out, flanked by the two men, she moved toward the guard rail at the edge of the car park and gazed out at the pinnacle of rock jutting out of the grass below her. The stratified rock seemed to glow in the afternoon sun, whose warmth she could feel on the back of her neck.
She choked back a sob, and grabbed the waist high rail to steady herself. She felt Charles move to stand just behind her, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“It’s ok Allison; Chris had a reason for us coming here today. There is something he wants you to do here, something he felt was important enough to insist upon.”
Allison looked round as she heard another car pulling onto the car part. It was another of the funeral cars and as it parked she saw two more of the pall bearers emerge, leaving the car empty. The four men formed a semi circle behind her and she drew comfort from their strong presence as she turned and gazed out at the rock formation in front of her.