Healing - Book One

twenty one

I sit in between the twins in the back car. They both wear tiny black bow-ties over their off-white cotton costumes. They hold a hand of mine each, not really applying much pressure and never making a sound. In a way, I admire their silence, how they prevent themselves from becoming noticeably sad, perhaps not from each other but from those whom will never get to see them.

Miss Peregrine sits in the front passenger seat, eyes closed and a handkerchief in her grip. Occasionally she will dab at her eyes.

It is not a long drive to the church; a different church on the other side of the village, chosen for obvious reasons. When the procession of cars approaches, I notice three figures stood outside the archway into the graveyard which stands in melancholia before the abbey. All in black, my parents and sister await our arrival.

I take a series of deep breaths before I exit the safety of the car, still keeping hold of the twins' hands. When my mother realises that I am among the parade of sad children she rushes towards me, dispersing the group as we stroll toward the cemetery. She grabs me and holds me tight, forcing me to let go of the little hands I am responsible for.

"Violet, Violet, Violet!" She repeats loudly into my ear, making me want to cover my ears. I understand that she is upset at the loss of her sister, but I hate the way she dramatises our reunion.

"Hello mother, father." I say quietly, giving my father a courteous nod after struggling from my mother's constricting grasp. Spotting my sister lingering behind both parents, I launch myself into her arms like we were young children again. I feel her hair tumble from it's precarious state down her back as a result of my force. I feel that her cheeks are soaked when our faces brush past each other; her heart pounds through her skin.

"I've missed you Rosie."

"I've missed you as well, Vi." My sister pulls away and her eyes flick up and down me. "You've seen such horrors, little sister."

Pushing my lips together, I nod and stare at the ground. She takes my hands in hers and gives them a squeeze, before she is beckoned away by our parents to lead the procession into the church. Miss Peregrine takes my arm as we walk, gripping my bicep for dear life.

A gloomy breeze glides through the graveyard, guiding my hair towards my left side. The path is paved - my shoes click against the stone, the noise cuts through the silence which has trapped us. The sky is grey, the air is cold. Every aspect of the day is the complete opposite to what the wedding started out as.

Once we enter the church, I am faced with plenty of people whom I do not recognise. Many of them sharply take a breath when their eyes reach me - perhaps they thought I was the deceased for whom they had gathered together to celebrate and mourn. Alas, I fear I can never be the woman she was.

The front four pews are empty, ready to be occupied by the large parade which has obnoxiously entered in a clatter of footsteps and sniffling. Dozens of eyes follow us as we walk up the aisle and file into the empty seats.

I become separated from my friends and Miss Peregrine, sitting on the front row with my parents and Rosanna. My sister takes my hand in hers and squeezes it, forcing a smile when I look at her.

Both of our faces fall when the organ begins to play solemnly. Everything within me sinks. Along with the rest of the congregation, I stand and crane my neck towards the church entrance and cannot stop myself from breathing heavier. A despairing pressure in my eyes forces warm tears to stream down my cheeks at the sight of the dark wood coffin which is being carried down the aisle of the church. I shake uncontrollably, unable to contain my grief. Rosanna wraps her arms around my body and holds me; I cannot look away from the casket piled high with white roses and lilies which my parents must have chosen, for I knew full well she loved daffodils.

Aggie is set down on a flower-adorned table before the alter. I continue to shiver with a hand over my mouth to avoid letting any unappealing sounds echo about the crowd.

The vicar lets us sit, and I bury my head into my sister's shoulder, blocking out all noise and vision. For a while I believe that I am completely hidden from the terrible outside world. That is until Rosanna elbows me in the ribs.

"It's you, Vi."

I emerge from her protective embrace and look around - the congregation is watching me intently. Slowly, I push myself up from my seat and my heels click against the floor as I walk up to the lectern, retrieving a folded-up page torn from a notebook.

I refuse to let myself look where Aggie rests in favour of unfolding my speech and centring all of my focus on the writing which I scrawled out in a rush.

"As Agatha's niece, it is my honour to be able to pay homage to her in the form of a speech." Already, my voice begins to wobble, however my eyes are fixated on the page, not wanting to look up out of some sort of fear which I cannot quite out my finger on.

"I am certain that she would be thrilled to see you all here to celebrate her. It would be an understatement to say that I am grief-stricken. My emotions would not have been changed even if I had not witnessed the horrific events which led to her passing. She died at the hands of somebody who she thought loved her."

More wobbling. As I bring back the memories, the angrier I become.

"She took the bullet for me." The words tumble from my mouth. They were not part of my script. "I am afraid that there is no other way to describe her death." Rather dramatically, I roll the paper into a ball and drop it onto the floor beside me. "My aunt was and will always be the bravest person I've ever known. Her cause of death says a lot about her as a woman - strong, loving and fearless."

Pausing, I let another tear roll down my cheek. There isn't too much more for me to say. I struggle from behind the lectern and, in a despair-fuelled spur, throw my arms over the coffin and hold my head in my hands.

"It should have been me that you are mourning this day. I want all of you to remember her as somebody who was willing to die for somebody they loved - may others follow her."

I am sobbing my words now, but my finale is met by controversial applause. Only now do I feel a sense of release.