The Serpent's Skin Erina Reddan (affordable ebook reader .TXT) 📖

to get Mum’s brooch where it had to be, and I was dead scared that somebody would catch me.

At Communion, Dad swung out of the pew, us following, Aunty Peg last. Which suited me because nobody would believe a word she said, even if she did open her big mouth. The McMahons hung back out of respect. So all eyes on us. Dad and the others shuffled at the side of Mum’s coffin, heads down, hands glued together. I had a great interest in the wood, trailing my hand along the top. A hundred eyes stabbing into my back.

I only had a second between Tim stepping forwards to get his Communion and my turn, but I shoved the brooch in among the roses. It seemed to go in nice and good. Only a couple of thorns on the way. I didn’t dare suck the pin pricks. It didn’t feel exactly right because I hadn’t got the cameo into the coffin to where Mum was. But I had to find a way to be okay with the not-rightness.

I stepped forwards and opened my mouth for Jesus. When I turned I felt all the stabbing eyes on the front of me this time. I kept my own on the floor like I was praying real hard. And I was. Just not about what people might be thinking.

I followed Dad, Tessa and Tim back into the pew, past Philly’s turned knees. She hadn’t done her First Holy Communion so she’d had to wait for us all by herself.

I kneeled and gripped my hands together hard, offering up the pain for Mum. After a bit I slid back onto the seat and stared at everybody going past her coffin. Job was done, so things were slowing down to normal, but I had to keep on my toes to see if anybody was suspicious.

I narrowed my eyes on Mrs Nolan as she went past the coffin. She’d be the one to do the looking if anyone would. My eyes were right on her and hers were on the altar, all holy. But that wasn’t a good idea because she tripped on the step getting up to Father McGinty. She flung her arm out to save herself and grabbed on to Father McGinty’s lacy dress. He stepped back quick smart before she got a real hold, but that upset the apple cart even more. She crashed to her knees, skirt flying. Mr Nolan turned to right her despite having just had Jesus put in his mouth and being in a Holy State, but she was already back on her feet with the help of Mrs McMahon, who was behind her. Father McGinty stepped forwards to give her the Communion.

I didn’t know what was on her face when she headed back to her seat, because Philly, Tim and I had our heads buried deep. We were praying all right—praying that we kept all the laughing pushed down. We’d been in just the right spot to see it all, and see it all we did. She hadn’t been wearing the kind of big no-colour underpants Mum did. Mrs Nolan’s were big all right, but red and shiny and fierce like a traffic light.

Tessa leaned right across Tim and me and clamped her hand over Philly’s mouth. Tessa was so mad she looked set to thump Philly, but she couldn’t because we were at Mass. Philly’s little eyes, bulging above Tessa’s hand, were too much for Tim, and he fell to the kneeler as if he was looking for something. I plastered my praying hands tight against my eyes and filled my chest with big, slow air to stop the giggles getting out.

Tessa dragged Philly over the back of my knees and positioned her handy to her elbow. That was enough to shut Philly up.

But while Tim was looking for that thing he dropped, he dug into my leg and grinned up. I grabbed his finger and squashed it under my knee. I grinned down.

We got all serious, though, when we saw we were on the home stretch of Mum’s funeral.

It was like we never saw those red underpants on Mrs Nolan’s big bum on the altar.

It was like we’d never forgot for a minute that Mum was dead and we were burying her.

I was looking at Dad because I knew what was next. He pursed his lips and I could see he was gathering things up in himself.

Father McGinty came down the stairs with his incense thing and swung it high over Mum. He nodded and Dad stood. The two Mr McMahons got up, and Pete and Mr Kennedy, as well as young Dave Dillion. Although he sure didn’t look young. He did everybody’s funeral, though, because he’d fought in the war.

They got around Mum’s coffin and the air got heavy. Like they were in a dance, they all swooped at the same second and hoisted Mum into the air and then onto their shoulders. Young Dave stumbled with her weight. Somebody gasped. The men under Mum’s coffin got their arms around each other’s shoulders and steadied. Seeing those grown men holding on, one to the other—it wasn’t something you saw every day.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I tried to stop all that seeing. The priest moved off, starting up the procession.

Tessa marshalled us out into the aisle after the coffin. She took Philly’s hand and she took mine. I wanted to pull away because I didn’t want Tim to be left with Aunty Peg. But I didn’t. All eyes were on us again, full of sorry. Ours were straight ahead, full of stones.

Out into the world we went behind our dead mum, through Dad’s Knights of the Southern Cross mates who were lined up on each side like a tunnel, which Dad called a Guard of Honour. They shouldn’t be here. Mum didn’t like them one bit. She pursed her lips up pin tight once a month when Dad was rushing between bedroom and bathroom, black suited