Beyond Here Lies Nothing - By Gary McMahon Page 0,2
When the man let go of his hand he didn’t know what to do with it, so he just let it hang at his side, the fingers clasping an imaginary cigarette.
“I suppose Harry told you about me. About what happened between us?”
“A little bit, yes. Not in any great detail, though.” He felt awkward, not really knowing what to say to this man. He hated small talk. It was meaningless.
“I wish we hadn’t been so stupid. If I knew what was going to happen... how ill he was... well, you know.” He smiled, sadly. His pale blue eyes were moist. His face was like parchment paper stamped with the signs of loss.
“I know. And I’m sure Harry felt the same.” He had no idea what Harry had thought about the matter. Even if he’d been told, he had not retained the information.
An awkward silence descended between the two men, pushing them apart. Again, Marc wished that he could smoke. He hadn’t felt the craving this strongly in a long time, perhaps for a couple of years.
“If he’d have told me how ill he was, I would’ve gone round, made up with him. He was my only brother... I loved the old bastard, even though I don’t think I ever told him how I felt.”
Marc was just about to say something – he didn’t know what; just anything to break the uncomfortable, candid moment – when people started to shuffle inside the building.
“Looks like we’re on now,” he said, smiling at Victor Rose. “Please, after you.”
Rose nodded and began to walk towards the entrance, hanging back enough that he didn’t get too far ahead of Marc. He doesn’t want to go in alone, thought Marc. He increased his speed and drew level with the older man. “Okay if I sit with you?” He was unsure why he’d made the offer, but once he did he felt better. Perhaps in this situation, a companion would help ease the tension.
Rose looked relieved. “Yes... yes, that would be fine.”
Marc placed a hand on Rose’s shoulder and guided him inside. He hoped that he would never get so lonely that he needed the company of a stranger at a family funeral – then he realised that he was already there. If he was called to the interment of some distant family member tomorrow, he’d have nobody to take with him.
Perhaps he’d ask Victor Rose.
They followed the other mourners inside and took their seats near the front of the narrow room. Marc looked around and concluded that there must be no other family members present. Not one person acknowledged Victor; no-one even looked in his direction. Either the trouble between the brothers had been worse than he imagined, or Victor had become so detached from his older sibling’s life that he did not know these people.
Whichever reason were true, it was a sad state of affairs.
They stood when the service began, sang half-heartedly along with the hymns, and listened to the vicar as he described someone Marc barely even recognised. After what felt like a very short time, the velvet-draped coffin began to move on its roller towards the furnace door.
Marc felt unmoved by the brief ceremony. He was unable to connect with anything that had happened, any of the words the man at the front of the room had said. It all seemed too generic, so homogenised, that it might have come out of a can. Instant funeral service: just add water.
Before long, the mourners started to file outside. Their faces were unchanged; nothing had penetrated the façade.
“Can I offer you a lift?” he asked Victor Rose, as they were standing outside, waiting for something that had already happened.
Rose nodded. “Thank you. I came here on the bus... it would be a rather depressing ride back to Harry’s patch on my own.”
Marc said nothing. He just led the way to the car, walking slowly to enable to other man to keep up.
Once the car was moving, he switched on the radio, keeping the volume low. The local news was reporting more job lay-offs and a story about yet another company going into liquidation. Times were hard; people were struggling. It was the same old story told in a different way, or a sequel in which every move could be predicted on the evidence of what had gone before.
“Back there in the crematorium.” He glanced to the side, at his passenger’s profile. “It didn’t seem like anyone knew you. I mean... not one of those people