‘Brendan,’ he whispered, ‘come up beside me.’
I left Mr and Mrs McCoy and joined Mr Feeney to walk side by side out into the light. We led the procession through the gathering in the yard, towards the hearse. Mr Feeney used his hands, from his shoulders to his waist, to direct the pallbearers to lower the coffin down. He, Matty and Vinnie slid it inside. Mr Feeney reached up and closed the door. I remained standing there, looking through the glass I had cleaned the day before, a crystal-clear view of the coffin inside, of the flowers around it.
‘Alright, young fella,’ came Mr Feeney’s voice with his hand on my shoulder. I looked up to him, nodded and followed him to the driver’s side door as Matty went to the passenger side.
‘The keys are in her already,’ said Matty over the roof of the hearse.
Mr Feeney opened the door for me.
‘Take a wee look back, Brendan,’ he said.
The first faces I saw were Mr and Mrs McCoys’; it was dawning on them that I would be driving. Smiles beamed through their tears. Standing just behind them my parents were realising too. Dad, the one who taught me to drive, slowly put one thumb up at me, his lips pressed tight together and his eyes squinting; it was an expression that looked like he was feeling something inside that his face didn’t know how to show, an expression I’d never seen before. My mum’s eyes were filled with tears and she was smiling.
‘What’d I tell you?’ said Mr Feeney. ‘Promise less, give more.’ He put the black top hat on his head. ‘In you get.’
I got inside and closed the door. Matty sat in too.
‘We’ll keep you right, Brendan,’ he said.
I looked at Mr Feeney through the windscreen standing with his back to us.
‘Start up the engine there,’ said Matty.
I turned the key.
The hearse hummed into life.
I took a side glance back to the end of the coffin, Ronan’s head just behind mine.
My passenger.
I took a deep breath, let it out and turned back to look through the windscreen again.
Mr Feeney was facing me.
He lifted his hand and made a slow beckoning motion.
I moved forward.
Everyone followed.
Through the centre of our town, on the way to St Matthew’s, I tried to keep my eyes on Mr Feeney, but couldn’t help glancing to the sides of the road; an almost unbroken fence of people on both pavements. Faces known and unknown.I saw Mrs O’Neill. I’d never seen her wearing black before, I only knew her as a woman of colour and light. Principal Pickereen was beside her and Mr Dickson, the PE teacher. I recognised some of the dinner ladies and cleaners too. I saw Ms Toner and thought how she would be forever mentioned in the story of how Ronan and me became friends on the day of my nosebleed. It seemed like most of the students from my year were there too; it was strange seeing everyone not in their school uniform but still dressed the same. All eyes were on Ronan in the back, but sometimes a surprised face of a student saw me and took a second glance to make sure they weren’t imagining things. One student tapped Mrs O’Neill and pointed; we met eyes, her hand to her cheek; she smiled.
I saw Kevin Sherry. And he – the boy who never wanted to set eyes on me again – saw me. Almost a year ago, when he’d looked at me through that front windscreen of the hearse, he’d given me a look that I didn’t understand at the time; it took me a whole year to work it out. Maybe it took Kevin the whole year too. He was crying now. Crying so much it looked like he might never stop. He turned his head into Leanne’s shoulder as they scrolled out of sight.
Mr Feeney kept the distance and I kept the pace.
Matty was mainly quiet but said a few words of support every now and again.
‘Keep ’er steady, that’s it.’ Or, ‘Slow her up a wee tad.’
When we approached the gates of St Matthew’s I saw Jennifer with her mum and dad. Her eyes went wide when she saw me driving. I felt like I hadn’t seen her in months even though it had only been a few days ago at the hospital. She’d been waiting in the corridor outside the room that Ronan had left us in. She had stood up, saw my face, and knew. As she held me I saw, over her shoulder, my birthday cake sitting onthe plastic chairs, all sliced up. And, in a pile beside it, all the spent candles.
I drove through the gates and brought the hearse to a stop outside the doors of St Matthew’s where the priest was standing. I turned the engine off. Matty, wordless for possibly the first time in his life, simply put a hand on my shoulder before he stepped out. Mr Feeney, out in front, turned and gave me a tiny nod.
But before I got out I turned to Ronan behind me.
‘How was it?’ I said.
