life.
Of course, she had to admit that with Granny’s great age and her battery of medical complaints it came as no surprise to anyone when, one morning, Granny failed to respond to Elenor’s ritual call of: “Here’s your cup of tea, Granny.”
While Elenor’s mother and Miss Patten, firm in their belief of a wonderful life in the Great Hereafter, seemed to accept with equanimity the fact of its ‘being Granny’s time’, for Elenor this was scant comfort. From the very moment of Granny’s demise and all through the funeral service Elenor had been weeping bitterly. Now, surrounded by family and friends in the drawing room of Ivylea she was still sobbing piteously and bemoaning her Granny Mutch’s departure for ever from the ‘Vale of Tears’.
As Elenor reached for yet another handkerchief, her Mother caught her glance and said: “Elenor! For heaven’s sake can’t you at least gain some comfort from the knowledge that at long last Granny’s suffering is now over? She is free of all earthly ills and her spirit, the essence of what she was and is, will go on forever.”
Miss Patten in her soft, gently-accented voice said: “Your Mother is right. I am sure that when next I go into trance you will see the features of your beloved Granny – albeit she will probably appear looking much younger and happier than she ever did as she aged toward her ninetieth birthday.”
Elenor leapt to her feet and to the amazement of the other mourners she glared at the medium and with a voice thick with hate and revulsion she stormed: “I will thank you not to speak of my dear old Granny in such terms, As we all know, over the years in this house with your many sittings or séances, Granny Mutch would have nothing whatsoever to do with them. She steered well clear of such events – spookie week-ends was her name for them.”
There was a concerted intake of breath at Elenor’s rudeness from the roomful of mourners the majority of whom shared the beliefs and concepts of the afterlife so frequently expounded by Miss Patten.
Following Elenor’s outburst, the only sound to be heard was the ticking of the ornate French clock on the mantelshelf. As the silence lengthened uncomfortably, Mrs Cooper got to her feet and looking directly into her daughter’s eyes, she said: “I think you owe Miss Patten an apology. After all, not only has she never tried to impose her views on anyone, least of all you or Granny, there is another consideration. It is thanks to Miss Patten that you have had such a privileged childhood.”
Despite the reasoning tone of her voice it was nevertheless abundantly clear Mrs Cooper was furious with her daughter.
Even so, and still almost beside herself with the intensity of her grief Elenor was detemined to have the last word. She swivelled to face Miss Patten and with tears coursing down her cheeks, she said: “If I appear to seem ungrateful for the home you so graciously bestowed on us, then for such ingratitude I do apologise. However ...” Elenor gulped, tried in vain to wipe away a torrent of tears, then finally continued: “But as for all that mumbo-jumbo about trances and spirits returning from the Great Beyond – not my cup of tea, thank you. Since Granny Mutch had no faith in it either, please, just let the poor old soul rest in peace.”
In the months following Granny’s death the tension in Stable Cottage and Ivylea grew unbearable.
On a fine autumn morning, for the third time that day, Elenor and her mother were locked in fierce debate. Red in the face and her whole body shaking with anger Elenor spat out: “No! I will not stay here a moment longer. I have neither interest nor belief in séances, trances and messages from the spirit world. Miss Patten has accepted and chosen to respect my views on such matters. So why can’t you, my own mother, do the same?”
Mrs Cooper sat down at the kitchen table and gazed up at her still sorely-grieving daughter, “Will you please sit down,
Of course, she had to admit that with Granny’s great age and her battery of medical complaints it came as no surprise to anyone when, one morning, Granny failed to respond to Elenor’s ritual call of: “Here’s your cup of tea, Granny.”
While Elenor’s mother and Miss Patten, firm in their belief of a wonderful life in the Great Hereafter, seemed to accept with equanimity the fact of its ‘being Granny’s time’, for Elenor this was scant comfort. From the very moment of Granny’s demise and all through the funeral service Elenor had been weeping bitterly. Now, surrounded by family and friends in the drawing room of Ivylea she was still sobbing piteously and bemoaning her Granny Mutch’s departure for ever from the ‘Vale of Tears’.
As Elenor reached for yet another handkerchief, her Mother caught her glance and said: “Elenor! For heaven’s sake can’t you at least gain some comfort from the knowledge that at long last Granny’s suffering is now over? She is free of all earthly ills and her spirit, the essence of what she was and is, will go on forever.”
Miss Patten in her soft, gently-accented voice said: “Your Mother is right. I am sure that when next I go into trance you will see the features of your beloved Granny – albeit she will probably appear looking much younger and happier than she ever did as she aged toward her ninetieth birthday.”
Elenor leapt to her feet and to the amazement of the other mourners she glared at the medium and with a voice thick with hate and revulsion she stormed: “I will thank you not to speak of my dear old Granny in such terms, As we all know, over the years in this house with your many sittings or séances, Granny Mutch would have nothing whatsoever to do with them. She steered well clear of such events – spookie week-ends was her name for them.”
There was a concerted intake of breath at Elenor’s rudeness from the roomful of mourners the majority of whom shared the beliefs and concepts of the afterlife so frequently expounded by Miss Patten.
Following Elenor’s outburst, the only sound to be heard was the ticking of the ornate French clock on the mantelshelf. As the silence lengthened uncomfortably, Mrs Cooper got to her feet and looking directly into her daughter’s eyes, she said: “I think you owe Miss Patten an apology. After all, not only has she never tried to impose her views on anyone, least of all you or Granny, there is another consideration. It is thanks to Miss Patten that you have had such a privileged childhood.”
Despite the reasoning tone of her voice it was nevertheless abundantly clear Mrs Cooper was furious with her daughter.
Even so, and still almost beside herself with the intensity of her grief Elenor was detemined to have the last word. She swivelled to face Miss Patten and with tears coursing down her cheeks, she said: “If I appear to seem ungrateful for the home you so graciously bestowed on us, then for such ingratitude I do apologise. However ...” Elenor gulped, tried in vain to wipe away a torrent of tears, then finally continued: “But as for all that mumbo-jumbo about trances and spirits returning from the Great Beyond – not my cup of tea, thank you. Since Granny Mutch had no faith in it either, please, just let the poor old soul rest in peace.”
In the months following Granny’s death the tension in Stable Cottage and Ivylea grew unbearable.
On a fine autumn morning, for the third time that day, Elenor and her mother were locked in fierce debate. Red in the face and her whole body shaking with anger Elenor spat out: “No! I will not stay here a moment longer. I have neither interest nor belief in séances, trances and messages from the spirit world. Miss Patten has accepted and chosen to respect my views on such matters. So why can’t you, my own mother, do the same?”
Mrs Cooper sat down at the kitchen table and gazed up at her still sorely-grieving daughter, “Will you please sit down,
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