The Wake - Table of contents

The Wake - afters (2)

But that crowd at the wake couldn’t have been more right about Maud and the money. You wouldn’t have believed it to look at the cut of her and the shape of her house. Well she’s booked her place in heaven now anyway. Come into the garden Maud, for the black bat Life has flown. Welcome to Paradise Maud, I am here at the gate alone; and the woodbine spices are wafted abroad and the musk of the rose is blown. Come sit on My right hand, O good and faithful servant, for your name is written in the book of heaven. No, hold on, on second thoughts, why don’t you try this nice wee garden stool instead? No shortage of tulips here, what? See those blue ones over there? Especially for you. Don’t mention it. Now, where was I? Ah yes, the book of heaven. Let’s have a looky.

Hmm, you have indeed given sterling service to the church, to the tune of, let Me see, seven hundred and fifty thousand plus ninety-five thousand which, if I’m correct, comes to eight hundred and forty-five thou. Sweet music, Maud, sweet music down from the blissful skies indeed.

And We’re not finished yet, are We? There are also, ah, I’ve lost the place, yes, here We are, four houses, twenty-seven and three quarter acres of prime land plus the rest Maud, plus the rest. And the vintage Bentley of course, offside mudguard slightly rusted but no matter, that should fetch a fine penny. Now we’ll overlook the Child of Prague who’s missing two fingers and part of a nose anyway and the ducks and other wall furnishings which are pretty near worthless unless they’re of sentimental value to somebody though I can’t imagine. In fact you showed extremely good judgement there if I may say so, Maud. Pity about those neighbours of yours but in time they will learn to offer it up.

I doubt it somehow. Maybe Mammy will but not me. She’s only the executor. I’m the one has to do everything. In loco parentis. Loco’s right. The second time at the probate office I was ready to kill somebody. Mammy’s here to execute the will and I’m here to execute you you and you. You there sitting in your pinstriped three piece on your swivel chair with your nose in the air, prick, if you tell us we have to come back a third time I’m going to strangle you with this dental floss I have here with me in my pocket. Look, see it? And you too, Bob Cratchit, head down in your dusty ledger hiding behind your big desk trying to let on you don’t see me. And I’ll have more than enough left for you on my way out. Yes, you, you in your tacky uniform, what are you anyway but a fucking doorman? Two-bit job and you’ve the nerve to look at me like that.