The air still hadn’t cleared when I sat down beside Bill. I had good reason for choosing that particular place to sit because on top of the lingering redolence there was an mood of defiance about and I guessed that one or more of the mourners present had experienced the weight of Bill’s authority back in their schooldays.
My motives had nothing to do with solidarity I assure you. I simply wanted to keep the proceedings civil. There’s nothing as unseemly as a row at a wake, especially if it’s reported in the Derry Journal, and I felt a certain responsibility seeing this was my house.
So there we sat, Bill and I, facing Jim, Seamus, Margie and Willie Henry. The men had the look, and Margie wasn’t far behind, of people that couldn’t wait to get started. A growing aggravation was the fact that the four of them were in need of alcoholic replenishment, as I myself was, but there was no way I was going to produce the bottle while Bill was there.
The bitter irony about what looked like my support for him was the fact that I too harboured painful memories of his heavy hand, especially in the matter of the Derry Catechism. Who created you and placed you in this world Coffey? God. Why did God create you? To know Him and love Him and serve Him and by that means to gain everlasting life. Now give me the first Commandment. First I am the Lord thy God, Thou ... Thou ... Thou ... Out on the floor Coffey. Out! Next man, give me the first Commandment. First I am the Lord thy God, sir, Thou shalt have no other gods before Me. Good man. Now come over here, Coffey, and give me your hand. Out straight!
If Seamus was well-dressed, which he was, he was put in the shade by the man facing him. Bill’s nickname in the school is Waistcoat Willy for he is never seen out of doors without his three piece on. Come winter wind or summer sun it’s always the same, the only difference being in extremely sub zero times when he partly covers it with his three-quarter length sheepskin.
“I heard the sound of more trouble when I was on my way here,” he said shaking his head. “It’s disgraceful what’s happening.”
“Terrible,” I said. Silence from those opposite.
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The Wake - Table of contents
HumorTHE YEAR is 1968 and the Swinging Sixties are still swinging - though not in Ireland. But wait! An old woman dies in a northern Irish town and her wake becomes a rendezvous for lesbians, bisexuals and political revolutionaries. And in there among t...
