‘My Edie will be reunited with her parents, then.’ Jed nodded. It was a macabre thought – that all those graves would be exhumed – but it was the right thing. People would still want to be able to pay their respects at the graves of their loved ones, and once the valley was flooded that would no longer be possible if they were left in St Isidore’s. He was glad that Edie herself was already over in Glydesdale, and would not have to be disturbed.
‘Aye. Though they’ll put the folk from St Isidore’s in a new part of the Glydesdale churchyard. Bishop’s been up to consecrate an extra field – they’ll need a lot of room.’ Teesdale handed Jed his pint, and took payment for it.
‘Any idea when they’re going to start?’ Jed asked.
‘This week, as I understand it. There’s a notice gone up on the church door. It’ll all be done under a tarpaulin, behind screens. Each set of remains will go into a new coffin and there’ll be a hearse waiting to drive them around to Glydesdale where they’ll be reburied.’ Teesdale leaned on the bar, and shook his head. ‘There’s a schedule up telling you which graves will be dug up on which day. It’s to be my ma and pa’s grave on Wednesday. I’ll have to shut up shop here, and be standing by. They don’t want you watching, but you’re allowed to stand behind the screens, and go with the new coffin to Glydesdale, see it’s all done properly.’
‘I’d better go and read that notice, then,’ Jed said. He hadn’t been to church much lately. Not since Edie had died. But his mother was in St Isidore’s churchyard, and perhaps he should be at hand when her grave was exhumed. Perhaps he should bring Isaac along, too. Teesdale had turned away to serve another customer, so Jed took his pint to a seat near the window that faced up the lane towards the church, and contemplated what was happening to the village. If it was time to start moving the dead out, it wouldn’t be much longer before it was time to move the living.
Teesdale passed by, collecting empty glasses, and sighed. ‘Ah, ’tis all changing. Nowt’ll ever be the same again, once we’re all spread to the four winds. You found somewhere to go yet, Jed?’
He shook his head. Why did people keep asking him that? The future was hanging over him like a sword suspended by a thread. It terrified him just to contemplate it. But soon he’d have to do something about it, he knew. ‘Not yet, John, not yet.’
‘Time’s running out. Don’t leave it too long. Reckon this village’ll be a sad place for the last few to leave. That’ll no doubt be me and the missus, any road.’
‘Aye.’ Jed tried to imagine the houses standing empty, but it was a painful image and not one he could dwell on. He made a decision. He’d buy the Westmorland Gazette and start looking for work and accommodation. Tomorrow he’d do it. Or the day after.
Jed finished his pint and decided to call in on his father before going home. The children would be all right – Jessie had been fast asleep before he’d even left, and Stella had been reading in her bed, promising to snuggle down to sleep when it became too dark. The thought of his ma’s grave being exhumed was preying on his mind, and the sooner he told Isaac the better. He walked quickly to the far end of the village and pushed open the door to Isaac’s little cottage.
‘Pa?’ he called as he entered. It was only around nine o’clock but the old man had already got himself into bed.
‘That you, Jed? I were almost asleep.’
‘Sorry, Pa.’ He walked through to the back room and sat on the end of the bed. ‘Something I need to talk to you about. But if you want to sleep, I’ll come back tomorrow.’
‘No, lad, now’s as good a time as any. Put the kettle on first, though.’ Isaac shuffled himself into a sitting position, and lit the paraffin lamp beside his bed. His was one of several small cottages in the village that did not have electricity. There was no mains electricity at all but the larger buildings all ran their own generators.
Jed went back through to the kitchen and popped the already half-full kettle on the stove. He cleared up the remains of Isaac’s dinner, washing the plates and cutlery he’d used, while he waited for the kettle to boil. The place was filthy, he realised; even in the gloomy light of the paraffin lamp he could see the thick dirt. He’d have to find some time to come up here and do some cleaning. Isaac clearly wasn’t coping.
With the tea made, and poured into two chipped enamel mugs, Jed took them through to the bedroom and handed one to his father.
‘Cheers, lad. Now, what was it worth disturbing my sleep for? Your little Jessie all right, is she? Who’s looking after her?’
‘She’s at home with Stella,’ Jed replied. ‘Pa, it’s about Ma. Her grave.’
‘What about it? Need tending, does it? I used to keep that graveyard so tidy, back in the day. ’Spect it’s gone to rack and ruin now.’
‘No, Pa. Something else.’ Jed took a deep breath. ‘They’re exhuming the graves. Going to move them all to Glydesdale. It starts next week, John Teesdale says. There’s a schedule, so I’ll call in to the church tomorrow and find out when Ma’s will be done. I’ll take you, if you want to be there.’
‘Exhuming? You mean, digging up?’ Isaac caught hold of Jed’s arm in a tight grip.
‘Aye. But it’ll all be done properly – behind screens, with dignity. They’re to be reburied in Glydesdale in smart new coffins. We can be there for Ma, go with her to Glydesdale and see it’s done properly.’ Jed looked at his father and frowned. Isaac was white and shaking. ‘What is it, Pa? What’s wrong? It’ll be hard, seeing Ma’s grave disturbed, but it’ll mean we can still visit . . .’
But Isaac was shaking his head. ‘They can’t dig them up. They can’t. ’S’not right. I’ll not dig it up again.’ Isaac thumped the mattress defiantly.
Jed remembered that Isaac had once been the gravedigger at St Isidore’s, long ago, before Jed had even been born. Perhaps it was that he was referring to? All his hard work to bury the poor souls, all to be undone.
He patted his father’s arm. ‘Aye, I know, Pa. All your work. You did a good job back then, but now it’s someone else’s turn to do the digging. You won’t have to.’
Isaac was still shaking his head, and screwing up the corners of his bedcovers in his hands. ‘It’ll all be bad, all be uncovered. And at my time of life and all. ’S’not right, ’s’not fair.’
‘It’ll be hard for all of us who’ve loved ones in that graveyard. But it’s for the best, you’ll see. Come on now, Pa. Drink your tea. Stop fretting. If you think it’ll be too hard to see Ma’s grave dug up, I’ll go by myself. You don’t need to if you don’t want to.’
‘’S’not fair, after all these years,’ Isaac muttered.
‘Shh, now. Drink your tea.’ So this was it. Jed had always worried that his father might lose his mind, and here it was happening, far too quickly. There was no putting it off any longer. Pa would have to move in with him and the girls, as soon as possible, so Jed could keep an eye on him. How Jed would cope he had no idea, but Isaac was his father and it was his duty to care for him.
Jed’s mother’s grave was exhumed on a grey, drizzly morning just a few days later, with Jed in attendance, a protesting Jessie on reins at his side. Stella was at school. Jed had decided it was best if Isaac didn’t attend the exhumation and had not mentioned it again. His Pa seemed to have withdrawn into himself, and kept muttering about not wanting the graves dug up, and it being unfair. Who knew what he was saying. It must be something related to his time as a gravedigger, Jed thought.
It was a solemn and strangely surreal moment – although Jessie didn’t give the occasion the respect it