Into the silence 

So into the brief silence where the priest had paused for breath during his ongoing monologue, my bored younger brother had loudly called to the choir above (up on the mezzanine floor, not ‘the above’), “Hey! You ‘ghosty’ people up there? Sing us the ‘Ghosty’ song. And with the cry echoing around the cavernous vault of the arched ceiling of the church, people flinched. Apart from several heads jolting up in sudden surprise from being woken unexpectedly, all the remaining eyes seemed to focus immediately on my younger brother and then to slide sideways, left or right depending on where they sat, to my mother. She had definitely flinched, but did not slide down out of sight. Her ‘Englishness’ (as mentioned in previous blogs) would hold her upright and she said, from the corner of her mouth in the sharpest of ‘stage whispers’ to one of my older sisters nearest my brother. “Turn ..him ….around …..now! The shade of embarrassment crept quickly up her face from the neck up. The priest had paused and looked down disapprovingly on my mother and her….. brood.

No doubt my mother returned her best ‘Empire stare’ (British, not ‘the force’). Looking directly back at the priest challenging him to continue the silent criticism as it appeared the priest flinched a little and my younger brother, now being turned to face the front again, said it a louder voice “but I don’t like him, I like the singing”. This of course caused my mother to snigger (very unladylike, she would say) and then a lot of people in the church were suddenly attempting to suppress their laughter. A bout of not so subtle clearing of throats swept through the pews. I believe what then changed everything was one of my sister’s, while trying to keep my younger brother facing forward, saying loudly to my mother, in case she hadn’t heard, “He said he doesn’t like him, he likes the singing”.

This time there was a minor explosion of laughter, but only down towards the ground as everyone suddenly bowed their heads trying not to catch the eye of the flustered priest, upon whom the children had apparently, passed suitable judgement.  The grin on my mothers face spoke volumes as she focussed her head on the back of the pew in front. Once again one of her children had commented on what everyone was thinking but wouldn’t say. While many struggled to contain themselves, my mother stood shaking slightly with laughter but at the same time, looking to the children and with the merest arching of her eyebrow and gesture of her head, signalled that all the children were to sit down and face forward. We realising something had happened and not sure if we would be thanked or banned, sat forward and with a very motherly ‘Ssshhh’ from my older sister we looked innocently to the priest to continue his presentation.

(Continued tomorrow)