Week 4: Tribute

Tribute

“The only reason I’m going down there is to make sure that bitch is dead.” Steve tossed aside the copy of the Daily Mirror he had been reading and stared hard at his son, Steve junior (known to most as Stevie). “You’re too young to remember what she was like in her prime son, you don’t know the terrible things she did to people round here. She terrorised us lad, back when this was a working class neighbourhood and people used to actually belong to a community and go out into the street. All the public workers from the councillor down to the bloody postman lived in fear that it was going to be them next to feel her…”he grasped for a word, eventually settling on “wrath!” He emphasised this with a slap of his hand onto the rickety old coffee table in front of him. The cups rattled and a little bit of tea sloshed out into the saucers.

Stevie looked at the teacups and nodded. His dad was right, he didn’t really remember what she’d been like, and everything that had happened, but he’d been brought up to hate ‘that bloody bitch’ and he knew it was right, knew it in his Scouse bones.  “Yeah, you’re dead right dad. After everything she did.”

“I know what they’re saying, that you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. That just because you feared her, hated her even, doesn’t mean you can’t respect her.” Steve paused here, and seemed to ruminate, before continuing more quietly. “Maybe she does deserve some respect though, she’d never give up a cause once she had her mind set on it, I’ll give her that.” He sighed. The spark, the animation of passion seemed to have drained out of him now and to Stevie, just for a second, he looked like a tired old man.

 “Well, we’d better leave now if we want to get there in time, it’s a bit of a journey you know.” Steve junior tried to inject some enthusiasm into his voice, but the senior Steven didn’t seem to have it in him anymore.

“Alright la, let’s go.”

*** 

When the two of them joined the crowd later that day they mingled with the people, from all walks of life, who had turned out for this special event. Stories were swapped and new ones told. Steve saw a man his own age, whom he recognised from the old neighbourhood, and ambled over to him. They nodded to each other, then stood and stared together to where a coffin was being brought out of a hearse. Steve broke the silence.

“It’s a pretty big turn out just for a dog though isn’t it? And, I mean, is it usual to have a funeral for a pet?”

The man nodded and drew his lips into a thin line. “Well, she was pretty special though wasn’t she? Remember the time she time she ripped the seat out of Derek Hatton’s suit when he was campaigning down our road?” They both laughed grimly at this. Then Steve seemed to perk up.

“Hey, isn’t there that other thing going on down in London today as well?” He smiled. “”We can probably catch a bit of it on the telly later.