Wardsend Cemetery

It had been sixty-five years since Arthur had last visited to Wardsend Cemetery. The cemetery had been situated in this spot, in Sheffield, near the River Don for over one hundred and sixty years. Arthur, standing at the entrance, could still hear the steady current of the river. Taking him back, all those years ago. He liked the sound of the river. It was a relaxing contrast to the eery silence of the cemetery. When he was very little, he used to be scared stiff and would clutch his mother’s hand and almost fully close his eyes. Not completely because he was worried he would walk into an empty grave but almost closed so he could block out most of the graves and unnerving statues. The statues were scarier than the graves. He could feel their eye on his back when he walked past them. Their blank, concrete eyes whose vision you could never escape from.

The river would always soothe his nerves when he learned to listen it more. At first, he was too scared to pay it the attention deserved. But, when he got a little bit older, he used to listen to the sound of the water and let it encompass his fears. His imagination was vivid when he was a child and he used to imagine the souls of the good spirits that resided in the cemetery were swimming, carefree in the river. If you listened closely, you could hear them laughing and talking with one another.

The graveyard is the famous resting place of George Lambert, an Irish Soldier. He received the Victoria Cross. The cemetery also contains an obelisk that commemorates soldiers who died at the Hillsborough Barracks. This cemetery has always been filled with northern pride and bravery.

Arthur used to go to see their grandmother with his Mother and siblings. Her name was Vera Roseberry. She had four children. One died very young from lung complications. Her husband died in the war. She remarried to a man named George.

The grave at Wardsend that Arthur used to visit was of his Grandmother Vera. He had never met the woman. She had died the year before he had come into this world. But his mother used to take him and his two siblings every year. When Arthur was little, his mother used to take him and his two siblings to visit her grave. She told them stories about her. She brought her children up on her own because her husband was away in the war. She had seven children. One died. She had a picture of him that she kept in her blouse pocket. She would never show this to anyone, not even her other children. Arthur’s Mother put flowers on her grave, and, usually, there was another set of flowers there too. They never knew who. Arthur’s mother had disengaged with her family a long time ago. Arthur did not even know their names, or, if they were alive or dead. One of the must have been alive, to leave flowers on Vera’s grave.

When Arthur first went, all he could think of was spirits and demons. The gravestones never looked appealing; grey and chipped with morose black letters printed haphazardly. He never read the plaque properly until he got older.

“Loving Mother, wife, philanthropist, nurse, cook”

 Arthur’s mother used to laugh at this. “She was a remarkable woman, but she could not cook to save her life”.

Arthur never got to meet Vera but, every time they visited the cemetery, his mother would reveal a little bit more information about her. She was not religious, despite being from a religious background. She liked to sing used to have a backing band. She loved her children, but she had a terrible taste in men. Her children never had a real father figure and, some of them never forgave her for it.

Arthur used to go with his Mother. Vera’s middle daughter, Scarlett. Scarlett never told Arthur much about his Grandmother, but they used to visit her grave anyway. For the first few years, Arthur did not even know who she was. When he got older, Scarlett told him it was his Grandmother. She had remarried and she was miserable. She was found dead with two empty bottles of Vodka beside her. Arthur’s aunties and uncles had said she had died of “stress”.

Scarlett died ten years ago. She was also buried in Wardsend. Arthud did not know where her siblings were buried or, whether there were still alive. Whatever happened in their life and why they did not wish to know each other more, he would never know. But, there still was one set of flowers on Vera’s grave. No note. No note on Scarlett’s grave.

Arthur took his grandkids round the whole cemetery. He showed them both his Mothers and his Grandmothers grave. He told them stories about both of them. As he stood there, he remembered, years ago, standing there. Frightened but intrigued. He could hear the water running in the river. His Mother was telling him stories about her mother. How much did he listen to? Did she feel the same uncomfortable feelings he had felt in the graveyard?

Arthur stood now, in the graveyard, looking at the tombstone of Vera Roseberry. His hand was held by one of his grandchildren, Amanda. She was scared of the cemetery. She did not like ghosts. Arthur leant down to her and said, “don’t be silly, the ghosts do not want to scare you. Listen” He calmed her down and signalled her to be quiet. The littler girl stopped her thoughts momentarily and grasped her Grandfathers hand. He did not say what she was supposed to listen to, but she trusted him. When she stopped and listened, she could hear water running. And she could hear talking, cheering, and laughing. She opened her eyes and looked at her Grandfather. He smiled back and said, “that’s her, she likes you”. She would listen to the noises that spouted from the river. It would almost sound like they were calling her name.