‘Aye,’ I said. ‘That’s what I was thinking, Mr Feeney.’
‘Aye, we’ll get you suited, we’ll get you practising a bit in the hearse and get you schooled up on everything. We’ll look after you.’
‘Thanks, Mr Feeney.’
‘Aye young fella,’ he said, ‘we’ll look after you.’
At McMillan’s it was the same tailor that had fitted me for my tuxedo in February.
‘Let me see,’ he said, flicking through his book. ‘Ah, here we go, got all your measurements here, oh yes …’ He glanced up at me. ‘You’re the one I gave the extra dickie bow to. Which did you wear in the end?’
I had let Mr Feeney do all the talking up to that point and hadn’t expected the tailor to remember me, or for me to have the memory of a happier time come back so strongly.
‘I went for the “more than just the black” one,’ I said.
He chuckled.
‘And no regrets?’
I thought for a moment.
‘No. No regrets.’
‘Good,’ he said.
‘Today, though,’ I said, ‘today it’s just the black.’
‘Right,’ said the tailor, his face losing a little bit of its glow. He looked to Mr Feeney. ‘The usual Feeney attire for the young gentleman is it, Gerry?’
‘It is indeed, Alister.’
‘Let me put that together for you, won’t be a moment.’
After we got back from McMillan’s with the new suit, Mr Feeney took me for a test drive in the hearse.
‘Easier than you thought?’ he said as we completed another loop of the perimeter of the funeral home.
‘Definitely, I’ve never driven an automatic before.’
‘Now don’t you worry on the day, Matty’s helping out and he’ll be in the front here beside you, he’ll keep you right. I’ll be out front leading the cortege. Now, as you know, the mourners will be following you from behind, you want to keep roughly a four-foot gap between them and the hearse. Matty and me will keep you right with the distance but if you see their noses touchin’ the back windscreen then you know you’ll need to speed up a bit,’ he said with a smile and a wink.
‘Right,’ I said, trying to take it all in.
‘Timing is everything for funerals, the service at St Matthew’s is at ten o’clock but we’ll need to be there for ten to ten, which means we’d need to be leaving here by quarter past nine. Ronan will be in the chapel of rest here from the night before and people are welcome to gather from eight o’clock in the morning onwards. Had you and your parents settled on a time for arriving?’
‘Um …’
It felt like my throat had closed up and my lungs had suddenly shrunk, I couldn’t breathe. I felt trapped. The seatbeltacross my chest felt like a straitjacket. I started fumbling with it to try to get it off but I didn’t have power in my fingers to press the button to release it.
‘Brendan, what’s wrong? Here …’ Mr Feeney said, pressing the seatbelt button.
The belt whipped across my chest and I tried for the door handle but couldn’t get it open. Mr Feeney reached across and pulled it for me and I tumbled out onto the ground.
‘Brendan, take it easy, young fella,’ said Mr Feeney, getting out and coming round to me on all fours trying to suck in air.
‘Brendan, what’s wrong? Take it easy there, take some breaths,’ Mr Feeney said, coming down onto his knees with his hand on my back. ‘That’s it, slow yourself down.’
My throat began to open again; air flowed down into me and slowly began to return my lungs to their normal size.
