It's Raining Men Part 37

'We'll stay with you,' Lara insisted. 'We wouldn't leave you. How could we after what we've all been through today?'

'Gene said we could stay in Well Cottage,' said Clare, still very tearful. 'You won't say anything to anyone, will you? The village has come to trust us.'

'As if you need to ask!' exclaimed May. 'And even if I did want to say anything, who'd believe me?' She didn't add that she didn't understand any of it. How could she? It was ludicrous. It would make more sense that Raine was a self-deluded old lady who had built up a myth around herself for no other reason that she wanted to be a creature of the deep. After all, only Milton Bird was alive to witness and remember first-hand what had really happened in 1928 and he was two nuts short of a fruitcake.

Jenny brought over some fresh coffees for them. She was very red-eyed.

'She was a lovely old thing. I suppose if she had to leave us, then going back to the sea was the way to do it.' Jenny coughed and looked at Clare. 'We thought you might be the same as her, you know, with your eyes.'

Clare smiled. 'I wish.' Something flashed in her brain, a thought brushing past. But it quickly hurried off when she tried to catch it. Something Raine had told her. But it was gone.

Jenny made them something to eat. Clare picked at hers; it was delicious but she wasn't hungry. Not even the cheesecake could tempt her.

'How can we go back to normal life?' asked Lara, as they eventually left.

'I don't know what normal is any more,' replied Clare.

Chapter 90.

Ren Dullem was a solemn place the next morning. Even with the absence of those stupid clouds and the sun bright in the sky, the gloom was almost tangible. May, Clare and Lara didn't really know what to do with themselves. Lara drove them all into Whitby in an attempt to cheer Clare up. It didn't work very well, especially when they decided they ought to shop for something to wear at the funeral as their holiday wardrobes consisted of jeans, T-shirts and a few floaty summer dresses. May forced Clare to eat fish and chips at a harbour cafe because she hadn't had anything for almost twenty-four hours. When they got back to Well Cottage Clare didn't even want to go down to the lagoon. She had been trying not to cry all day but her eyes had been leaking continuously.

'Do you think we should go to the Crab and Bucket and see what's happening?' suggested Lara.

Clare nodded. She put on some make-up but it couldn't disguise her red, puffy eyes. And, really, she didn't care.

The Crab and Bucket was fuller than usual. Only two tables weren't taken. Shirley greeted them with a sympathetic smile.

'Hi,' she said. 'Sad day for us all. Poor old Milton is inconsolable.' She tilted her head towards the old man in the corner. He was wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Today he was sporting a black armband and a red rose in his lapel, and his hat was off, sitting like a pet at the side of him.

'Please send a pint over to him,' said Lara. 'And put it on my bill.'

'Has he eaten? Send him a pie over as well,' added May.

'He's been fed, don't you worry. But I'll send him that pint and let him know it's from you,' said Shirley. 'That's kind of you to think about him.' She looked at Clare. 'Raine thought a lot about you, miss. And anyone who was all right for Raine, is all right for us.'

Clare turned away to wipe her eyes and May gave her a squeeze.

'The funeral is tomorrow at ten,' said Shirley. 'Everyone would like it if you were to join us. Someone was going to call up to Well Cottage to ask you.'

'We'll be there,' replied Lara.

'Usual?' asked Shirley, pointing to the gin optic.

'The usual,' Lara said and she smiled. Lord, they really were honorary locals. She was touched.

She fished in her pocket and handed Clare a tissue. 'It's clean,' she said.

'Thanks,' said Clare. Her eyes looked even more different in colour when they were gla.s.sy with tears.

They sat at a vacant table. 'To your lovely friend Raine,' said May, raising her gla.s.s. Clare and Lara clinked their gla.s.ses against it.

'I'm still in shock,' said Lara. She didn't say to Clare though that she was less in shock that the oldest inhabitant of the village had died and more in shock that a whole community could believe the old dear was a mermaid they'd been protecting in their midst since she landed on their sh.o.r.es in 1928.

'Do you believe in Raine, Clare?' asked May softly.

Clare had no doubt now. Nor would she ever have. The vision of Raine under the water was something she would never forget. And even though the sensible part of her brain was telling her she had been hysterical and imagining things, she didn't want to listen to it. 'Yes, I do.'

They stayed for two drinks each but were tired as none of them had slept particularly well the previous night. They waved goodbye to Shirley and were just going through the door when Milton appeared behind them. Silently, he held out his hand to Lara and she shook it and smiled. He did the same to May. But when it was Clare's turn and she took his hand, he lifted it to his lips and kissed the back of it. That brought a fresh load of tears rolling down her face.

'Goodnight, Milton,' she said. 'We shall be there tomorrow. To say goodbye with you.'

He turned and went back to his seat, his shoulders weighted, his gait a little unsteady after all the pints of beer which people had been sending over. Whatever she was, Raine de la Mer had been queen of his heart for many years and his loss was huge.

Chapter 91.

'I'll catch you up,' said Lara to the others, as they were about to pa.s.s La Mer. 'I'm going to take Gene Hathersage some money for staying this extra day.'

His truck was in the drive and she felt her spirits lifting at the sight of it. She knocked lightly and he opened it with his usual unconsciously aggressive s.n.a.t.c.h.

'Hi,' she began. 'I came to pay you-' .

'There's no need,' he replied. He did not stand aside to let her enter.

'I insist,' said Lara, wishing he would invite her inside, close the door and kiss her again.

But Gene stood his ground. 'I was going to give you some money back anyway. I just haven't got it organized what with . . . you know. I'll send a cheque on to the holiday agency.'

'Don't be silly. It was worth every penny. And we never managed to replace the wallpaper.'

'Don't worry about it.'

'I should at least compensate you for that.'

He looked at her without saying a word and she didn't know what to say either. The silence between them was palpable.

'Well, if that's all . . . Will you be at the funeral tomorrow?' he said eventually.

'Yes, and then we'll be going.'

'Right.'

'Well, thank you. Just in case we don't get the chance to say goodbye tomorrow.'

'Yes, goodbye.' Then he closed the door and Lara felt her eyes cloud. Her footsteps back down the path were heavy and slow and she was cross with her heart for feeling disappointed.

'Lara.'

She turned, hearing him say her name. He was running towards her at crash speed. When he reached her, he lifted her high then buried his head in her neck. She felt his warm breath on his skin and wished he would not let her go for a long, long time.

'I shall miss you,' he said. 'I shall really miss you. I shall think of you in your very different world and wish you lived in the same one that I did.'

Then he set her down and returned to his house as fast as his long legs would take him.

Chapter 92.

The church bells began to toll at half-past nine in the morning; it was a terribly sad doleful sound. The girls headed down the hill, joining the stream of people who were filtering into the church. Everyone was in black, without exception. Milton had on a black suit, a black d.i.c.ky bow at his throat and he was carrying a bowler hat. His trousers ended a good few inches short of his shoes also black, but the effort he had made was evident. May's heart gave an excited leap to see Frank; he was looking very handsome in his black suit. Daisy was sporting a black fascinator with a blackbird on it, a net dropping over her face. She glowered at May but even she had to be on her best behaviour today.

They filed into the church. Lara saw Gene standing at the back with the younger men of the village. He too was wearing a black suit, a black tie. He looked cultured and smooth, rough and wild at the same time, with his hair flowing behind his shoulders and his thick beard, which looked more trimmed than it had done the previous night. He nodded at Lara and she returned his greeting with a smile.

The church was crammed. There were flowers everywhere. Then six men brought in Raine's coffin on their shoulders. It was white, covered in a froth of white Yorkshire roses. They set her down reverently at the foot of the altar.

Behind Lara the heavy church doors thudded shut and a locking bar was dropped. Reverend Acaster, fully gowned, laid his hand on Raine's coffin affectionately before speaking.

'The sea is important to us in Ren Dullem. It has fed us and nurtured us, it has given our families a living and we have been privileged and honoured to have in our midst one of the sea's greatest treasures.

'We are gathered today to say goodbye to our Raine, our friend, our reine de la mer. Not only did she save thirteen of our menfolk, but she sacrificed everything she knew to stay with the man she loved. Illis quos amo deserviam: For those I love I shall sacrifice. The words carved into the headstone of her beloved husband, Seymour. The words became just as relevant for him when Jeremiah Unwin refused to bury him in consecrated ground because of what she was, despite the fact that Jeremiah's life would never have occurred but for Raine.'

A grumble rippled around the church. Clearly Jeremiah Unwin wasn't thought of with any affection.

'Raine was a humble woman, a simple woman. She had few wants, few needs and today we are taking her home. To the sea. Her wedding band will lie with Seymour and her ashes will be taken to her beautiful lagoon in the Hathersage cave.'

There was a lot of sniffling in the church. Clare was crying silently, and even the Reverend Acaster was wiping his eyes on a white handkerchief as he spoke. May and Lara stayed quiet in their a.s.sumptions that they were caught up in a situation of ma.s.s hysteria. The power of suggestion was a strong and curious thing. Besides, what other explanation could there be except that Raine was the genuine article?

'Raine saved a man from every one of our families when she brought all thirteen back to sh.o.r.e on that day in 1928,' the Reverend Acaster went on. 'Her greatest wish was that her selfless act should not be outweighed by adverse long-term effects. She wanted to see Ren Dullem thrive again, rise and prosper. With her pa.s.sing to the next life the debt we owed her, which she never wanted to hold us to, has been discharged. Ren Dullem is safe. Her last act was carried out to protect us, as much as her first act was.'

The reverend blew his nose loudly and had to take a few moments to compose himself.

'Now we can openly celebrate her. There is no proof she was anything other than an old lady who lived and died amongst us. Her kind are safe. If any of them still exist. We have not betrayed them.

'Remember Raine de la Mer with affection and love. As she loved us. And I urge you all to pray for the lost soul of Joan Hawk.'

Gladys's 'huh' reverberated around the church.

'Someone's daughter,' said the vicar pointedly. 'The coastguard have not been able to recover her body. Find it in your Christian hearts to wish her well on her way.

'Now let us pray. Our Father . . .'

At the end of the service, as each pew emptied, there was a general move towards the coffin. Not one person left without laying their hand on it and wishing Raine some personal, private message of affection.

'You must stay for something to eat,' said the lady with her hair pulled into a tight grey bun; the woman who had taken Albert. Apparently her name was Gladys, and Clare recognized the name. She was accompanied by an old stooped man in a black morning suit with a line of medals on his chest.

'Thank you,' said Clare. 'We'll be glad to.'

The three friends joined the stream of people who headed for the village hall from the church. The tables were heaving with refreshments. It appeared that many people had brought food and wine in honour of Raine's wake.

A waitress appeared at Lara's elbow with plates of nibbly food: quiches and pastries, sandwiches and tiny stuffed potatoes. These had the hallmark of Jenny.

The mayor had donated crates of champagne to toast the old lady's memory. Lara allowed herself the one gla.s.s but wished she could have had a few. She didn't want to go back and sort out the mess with James. She had barely thought about him for days and now he was looming on her horizon again.

Suddenly a wheelchair barged a path through the crowd and Daisy Unwin sat, cross-armed and furious, in front of them.

'Isn't it funny that everything was okay until you three came? Suddenly Raine is dead.'

'Daisy, be quiet,' said Frank, arriving behind her.

'No, I will not be quiet.' She smirked, knowing she had the whole of the hall's attention. 'How dare you shout at me, a disabled woman . . .'

Then Clare remembered.

It happened almost in slow motion. Lara and May watched Clare put her plate down on a nearby table. She took three strides so that she was standing beside Daisy, then she pushed cousin Pauline out of the way, grabbed hold of the handles of Daisy's chair and tipped her right out of it onto the floor.

Daisy screamed.

'What the heck, Clare?' Lara made to grab Clare and drag her to a position of safety before she got lynched.

'She can walk,' cried Clare. 'Can't you, Daisy? There's nothing wrong with your legs. I know.'

'You can't know,' shouted Pauline. 'Only we know.'

'Pauline, shut your mouth,' shrieked Daisy.

Pauline began to stutter in a panic: 'I meant that . . .'

'Shut up, shut up, Pauline.'

'Is it true, Daisy? Can you walk?' Frank cut through to the front of the gathered crowd. His usually gentle voice was tight.

'Don't be stupid. Of course I can't. Help me back into the chair.'

'Can she walk, Pauline?' Frank bent to stare into Pauline's face.