Finally at Peace (Short Story)

The storm clouds gathered overhead were unrelenting, but they could no more hurry me along than the driving rain that was soaking me to the bone. Kneeling beside the newly erected headstone, I could barely make out the words through the deluge. Not that I needed to see them. I knew them off by heart.

It was a little over six months ago that I’d first come back to Ravenfield. A place I hadn’t set foot in since I was sixteen. When I’d arrived, it had been a day much as this. To me the village had always existed beneath a blanket of cloud so I wasn’t surprised to be welcomed in such a way. I was grateful I’d had the good sense  to pack accordingly, even though I’d left glorious sunshine behind when I’d set off on the two hundred mile trip North.

Letting myself into Sarah’s cottage that day had been like stepping back in time, and I was quite unprepared for the tidal wave of emotions that washed over me. Emotions I hadn’t expected to feel, for out of every nook and cranny danced a memory, taunting me with recollections of times I’d long forgotten. Times more precious than I’d realised. 

I stood in the door way, tears filling my travel weary eyes, wondering why I’d never made time to visit until it was too late. How I wished the cottage would once more be filled with the aroma of home-cooking. Or that Sarah would bound out of the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron before enveloping me in a bear hug. Instead, all that was there to greet me was the silence.

Drained by the burden of nostalgia, I dropped my bags and went to sit in Sarah’s chair. The same rigid high-backed chair I remembered, still positioned beside the fireplace. The fire was gone I noted sadly, though in its place was a beautiful arrangement of dried flowers in her favourite colours of blue and yellow. No doubt made by Sarah herself.

Shivering, I couldn’t help but wonder when Sarah had finally relented and swapped her beloved real fire for the convenience of central heating. My parents had been trying to get her to do so for years, but she wasn’t a woman who gave in easily. Maybe the fireplace simply became too much work, though it made me uneasy to think of her struggling in any way.

As the chill in the air became almost unbearable, I went in search of the boiler. It had only been two days since Sarah had passed away, but all traces of warmth in the cottage had departed with her. To my relief I found it with no trouble and it had fired into life with ease. Then, wanting a cup of tea but faced with a fridge devoid of fresh milk, I took a walk down the lane to the village shop.

The village was prettier than I remembered, even in the rain, and smaller too. I was at the shop in a matter of minutes. Pausing before going in, I’d allowed my attention to be drawn back up the lane. Something had changed and I couldn’t quite work out what. It was only as I walked into the shop that I’d realised the small cemetery that had nestled in between Sarah’s cottage and the shop was no longer there.  

‘Hello,’ the shopkeeper greeted me warmly. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Just need some milk, thanks.’

‘Over there.’ She pointed to the rear of the shop. ‘It’s Anna isn’t it?’

‘It is. How do you know that?’

‘Oh I remember you well. Always in and out of my shop when you came to visit.’

 ‘It was the only thing to do around here.’ I smiled as I placed a carton of milk on the counter. Sarah was always slipping a few pennies into my hand, winking at me as she did, before sending me off to the shop without my parent’s knowledge. Sometimes though, no matter how much I wanted to spend those pennies, I just couldn’t bring myself to walk past the eerie, overgrown cemetery.

‘Very sad news about Sarah, but not unexpected I have to say. She’d not been herself for a while. Have you come to sort out the funeral?’

‘Yes I have.’

‘She did look forward to your visits you know. Missed you when you stopped coming.’

‘She did?’

 ‘Of course. She talked about you non-stop. Was very proud when you became a big-shot lawyer.’

‘Trust Sarah to exaggerate, I’m hardly big-shot.’

‘You were to her.’

‘That’s nice to know.’ I said, handing her a few coins in exchange for the milk. ‘By the way, what happened to the cemetery?’

‘Oh it’s been cleared to make way for some new cottages. Though who’d want to live in them is beyond me.’ She said accusingly and I sensed the development had not met with her approval.

‘It takes all sorts I suppose.’

‘It certainly does.’

‘Anyway, it was good seeing you again.’

‘You too, and let me know when you’ve made all the arrangements. I’m sure she’ll have a big turn-out.’

Leaving the shop, the rain now merely a drizzle, I took a slow stroll up the lane, soaking in my surroundings. As I neared the cottage I stopped to take a look at what was left of the cemetery. Most of the ground had been levelled off in preparation for the development but, oddly, the old bench on the far side was still there. For no reason other than I’d never dared to as a child, I decided to go and sit down.

Sat on the bench I found a comforting sense of peaceful. The landscape painted a beautiful picture before me. One I was sure Sarah never tired of. As I was enjoying the solitude, I became aware of a woman beside me on the bench. So lost in my thoughts was I, that I hadn’t even heard her approach.

 ‘Chilly isn’t it?’ I felt as though I should make conversation with the woman who was vaguely familiar.

‘It’s not so bad, dear.’ She replied, gently patting my hand. The ice cold touch of her skin sent shivers cascading through my body.

‘Are you out for some fresh air?’

‘No, I’m just waiting for someone.’

‘It must be someone special for you to be waiting out in this weather.’

 ‘Yes, it is.’

‘That’s nice. Do you mind if I ask who?’

‘My daughter.’

‘Well, I hope she gets here quickly so you don’t catch a cold.’ I said lightly. She wasn’t exactly dressed for the occasion without an overcoat, and only a headscarf to protect her from the elements. ‘How long’s she staying?’

‘Oh, quite a while.’

‘How lovely, you must be excited.’

‘I am.’

‘And I hope you have a lovely time with her.’ I said as I stood up, ‘It’s been really nice to meet you. See you again soon, I hope.

‘You will. Take care of yourself, Anna.’ She held my stare for an uncomfortable few seconds.

‘You too.’ I finally managed before heading off, somewhat perturbed by the encounter. I brushed it off as tiredness. It had been a difficult couple of days.

Back in the warmth of the cottage, savouring a much needed cup of tea, I settled down on the sofa. I thought about switching the television on for company, but opted for sitting in the quiet instead. My emotions swung as freely as the pendulum on Sarah’s Grandfather Clock, whose chimes resounded around the room, signalling to anyone who might be interested that it was now seven o’clock. It was then that a photograph on the sideboard caught my eye.

It was black and white and depicted a street party scene, which I figured must have been in celebration of the Queen’s coronation. The main subject was a woman cradling a small child. In spite of the age of the photograph there was no mistaking the woman pictured, for I’d just been speaking to her whilst sat on the bench.

Hoping to still find her there I threw my coat on and ran outside, but she’d gone. As I frantically scanned the area for any sign of her, I dug into my pockets for my mobile phone so that I could ring my mother. She answered after the second ring, not quite her usual cheery self and I felt a pang of guilt as I realised she’d been waiting for my call.

‘Mum?’

‘Anna, sweetheart. How are you? Did you have a good journey?’

‘Yes, it was fine thank you. Listen, mum ... there’s a photograph here of a woman and I wondered if you might know who she is.’

‘Well I’m not sure I can say without being able to see it.’

‘Do you have your mobile with you?’ I asked, as I headed back inside.

‘It’s in the kitchen. Why?’

‘I’ll take a picture of it and send it to you. Can you ring me back when you receive it, to tell me who it is?’

‘Of course. Why’s it so important.’

‘I don’t know. It just feels important.’

‘Okay then dear, send me the picture.’

Ending the call, I took the picture with the camera on my phone and sent it to my mother. As I waited for her to call me back, I switched the kettle on to make another cup of tea. The kettle hadn’t even finished boiling when the phone rang.

‘Anna you couldn’t possibly have seen this woman. You must be mistaken.’

‘No mum, I’m not. It was definitely her. She said she was waiting for her daughter.’ A whimper came down the line. ‘Mum? Are you okay?’

I waited as my mother composed herself.

‘Anna, the woman in the photograph is my mother ... your grandmother, and the child is me.’

‘Your mother?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure, and Anna you know that she died such a long time ago.’

‘I do, but mum I’m positive it was her.’ I hesitated before continuing. ‘You never would tell me anything about her. How did she die?’

‘I’ve never told you anything because I’ve no memory of her. I was only two years old when she died. There is one thing I kept from you though.’ She took a deep breath. ‘She died giving birth to your aunt Sarah.’

‘What? Why did you never tell me that?’

‘Because it wasn’t necessary for you to know and, well, Sarah never came to terms with how our mother died.’

‘Oh mum, you should have told me.’

‘What difference would it have made, Anna? It ruined Sarah’s life. What good would have come from sharing her pain?’

‘And your pain, too.’ I whispered, tears falling silently down my face.

‘Yes, but mainly Sarah’s.’ She said quietly. ‘At least she’s at peace now.’

‘But mum, that’s the thing. I don’t think she is yet. Neither of them are.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t you see? That’s why my grandmother came to see me.’

‘Anna you’re mistaken. It wasn’t her.’

‘It was. I know it was.’

‘Anna, sweetheart ...’

‘Where is my grandmother buried?’

‘In the cemetery next to the cottage, but I’m not sure exactly where. You see, she never had a headstone. My father could only afford to bury her at the time. Then he re-married and  ...’

‘Mum,’ I interrupted, ‘the cemetery’s not there anymore.’

I ended up staying in the village for almost one month. I wouldn’t leave, nor would I have Sarah buried, until my grandmother was found. When I’d finally gained permission to have the ground searched it had taken only two days to find her. I’d stood with my arms wrapped around my mother as the coffin was raised from the ground.

Now I’d come back to Ravenfield once more and watched as the headstone was gently lowered into place, a fitting tribute to two remarkable women. My grandmother finally reunited with Sarah, and finally at peace.