… except for Arch, of course, him being yer husband. My Arch will be chief pall-bearer. As for the food, we’ll have ham on the bone, and tongue, sandwiches and sausage rolls. Barrel of beer for the men, sherry for the women.’
Despite the grief that had rendered her incapable of mustering the inner strength needed for a battle of wills with Arch’s bossy mother, Aidy wasn’tabout to have her own mother’s funeral railroaded. Taking a deep breath, she spoke up. ‘Now look, Mrs Nelson …’
Bertha immediately cut in. ‘I’m surprised at you, Aidy. You know it’s extremely rude to butt in when someone else is speaking.’ She then politely asked Pat, ‘I expect you could do with a cuppa, Mrs Nelson?’
Aidy looked askance at her grandmother. Why was she encouraging this overbearing woman to stay, instead of doing the opposite?
Pat responded, ‘I was beginning to think yer weren’t going to offer me one. Better make it a pot, Mrs Rider. Arranging a funeral is thirsty work.’
Appearing not to notice that her granddaughter was staring daggers at her, Bertha got up and went across to the stove to put the kettle on to boil, then disappeared into the pantry.
While the kettle was boiling, she poured Pat the dregs left from the pot made earlier which she put before her, saying, ‘The kettle won’t be a moment. In the meantime, this’ll keep yer going.’
Pat took enough time off from issuing her instructions on what route she had decided the funeral procession should take to pick up the cup of stewed tea and knock it back. After swallowing it down, she pulled a face. ‘Oh, that was a bit bitter! I’ll have a spoon more sugar in me next one. Now, where was I?’
Fifteen minutes later Aidy was having extreme difficulty controlling her need to tell Arch’s mother to at least afford her grandmother and herself the courtesy of having some opinions on Jessie’s funeral, when the woman suddenly stopped mid-flow and clutched her huge stomach, giving out a loud groan.
Looking at her worriedly, Aidy asked, ‘What’s wrong, Mrs Nelson?’
Her rotund face screwed up in agony, Pat bellowed, ‘It’s me guts. It’s feels like they’re dropping out. It must be that bleddy cod we had for dinner last night. I thought it looked a bit iffy when I bought it. I’ll give that ’monger what for, the next time I see him.’ Heaving her bulk off the chair, she announced, ‘I’ve got to go. Don’t worry, I’ll be back first thing to continue where we left off.’
With that she snatched up her coat and handbag, and almost wrenched the back door off its hinges in her haste to get home.
‘That’ll just be us for tea then,’ said Bertha matter-of-factly, getting up and bustling over to pick up the kettle that was now whistling merrily on the stove.
Her face showing her fury, Aidy hissed, ‘I can’t believe that woman was expecting me to
pay
Arch’s brothers to pall-bear for Mam. The bloody gall of her!’ Then she paused and sighed. ‘Oh, Gran, as much as she irritates the life out of me, I hope her stomach ache isn’t serious. It’s funny, though, we had cod lastnight from the same ’monger she uses and Arch never complained of anything when he was here earlier. And I’m all right …’
‘Well, it might not have been caused by summat she ate so much as summat she drank,’ said Bertha dryly as she busied herself with her task.
Her tone of voice had Aidy looking at her suspiciously. Instinctively she knew her grandmother was somehow involved in Pat’s sudden stomach problem. ‘Gran, just what did you give Mrs Nelson?’
Bertha turned to face Aidy, a satisfied expression on her face. ‘Well, I thought she looked a bit grey around the gills, and to me that’s a sure sign of constipation. Out of pure kindness, I put a dose of senna in her tea.’
Aidy gawped. ‘So that’s why it tasted bitter to her? Gran, how big a dose did you give her?’
‘Enough to clear the blockage of an elephant! Well, yer
Despite the grief that had rendered her incapable of mustering the inner strength needed for a battle of wills with Arch’s bossy mother, Aidy wasn’tabout to have her own mother’s funeral railroaded. Taking a deep breath, she spoke up. ‘Now look, Mrs Nelson …’
Bertha immediately cut in. ‘I’m surprised at you, Aidy. You know it’s extremely rude to butt in when someone else is speaking.’ She then politely asked Pat, ‘I expect you could do with a cuppa, Mrs Nelson?’
Aidy looked askance at her grandmother. Why was she encouraging this overbearing woman to stay, instead of doing the opposite?
Pat responded, ‘I was beginning to think yer weren’t going to offer me one. Better make it a pot, Mrs Rider. Arranging a funeral is thirsty work.’
Appearing not to notice that her granddaughter was staring daggers at her, Bertha got up and went across to the stove to put the kettle on to boil, then disappeared into the pantry.
While the kettle was boiling, she poured Pat the dregs left from the pot made earlier which she put before her, saying, ‘The kettle won’t be a moment. In the meantime, this’ll keep yer going.’
Pat took enough time off from issuing her instructions on what route she had decided the funeral procession should take to pick up the cup of stewed tea and knock it back. After swallowing it down, she pulled a face. ‘Oh, that was a bit bitter! I’ll have a spoon more sugar in me next one. Now, where was I?’
Fifteen minutes later Aidy was having extreme difficulty controlling her need to tell Arch’s mother to at least afford her grandmother and herself the courtesy of having some opinions on Jessie’s funeral, when the woman suddenly stopped mid-flow and clutched her huge stomach, giving out a loud groan.
Looking at her worriedly, Aidy asked, ‘What’s wrong, Mrs Nelson?’
Her rotund face screwed up in agony, Pat bellowed, ‘It’s me guts. It’s feels like they’re dropping out. It must be that bleddy cod we had for dinner last night. I thought it looked a bit iffy when I bought it. I’ll give that ’monger what for, the next time I see him.’ Heaving her bulk off the chair, she announced, ‘I’ve got to go. Don’t worry, I’ll be back first thing to continue where we left off.’
With that she snatched up her coat and handbag, and almost wrenched the back door off its hinges in her haste to get home.
‘That’ll just be us for tea then,’ said Bertha matter-of-factly, getting up and bustling over to pick up the kettle that was now whistling merrily on the stove.
Her face showing her fury, Aidy hissed, ‘I can’t believe that woman was expecting me to
pay
Arch’s brothers to pall-bear for Mam. The bloody gall of her!’ Then she paused and sighed. ‘Oh, Gran, as much as she irritates the life out of me, I hope her stomach ache isn’t serious. It’s funny, though, we had cod lastnight from the same ’monger she uses and Arch never complained of anything when he was here earlier. And I’m all right …’
‘Well, it might not have been caused by summat she ate so much as summat she drank,’ said Bertha dryly as she busied herself with her task.
Her tone of voice had Aidy looking at her suspiciously. Instinctively she knew her grandmother was somehow involved in Pat’s sudden stomach problem. ‘Gran, just what did you give Mrs Nelson?’
Bertha turned to face Aidy, a satisfied expression on her face. ‘Well, I thought she looked a bit grey around the gills, and to me that’s a sure sign of constipation. Out of pure kindness, I put a dose of senna in her tea.’
Aidy gawped. ‘So that’s why it tasted bitter to her? Gran, how big a dose did you give her?’
‘Enough to clear the blockage of an elephant! Well, yer
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