Both Crystal's and Judy's parents preferred that their daughters be buried rather than cremated so the final moments of the funeral weren't of two coffins sliding inside a furnace and being incinerated. Instead a procession of hearses snaked out of the funeral home and wound through the roads and avenues of Rock Hill to Crystal's final resting place at the Forest Hills Cemetery. I was a mess of sorrow and tears during the whole drive. The brief respite I'd had from my grief by the need to comfort Marianne abandoned me now that there were others, including Crystal's father, who'd taken on the role. It was Andrea who once again shouldered the burden of comforting her sister as we processed towards the cemetery and the already excavated rectangles of soil into which Crystal and Judy would be separately buried.
I knew very little at the time about the conventions and customs associated with funerals and wasn't at all sure what was the right thing to do. I'd seen in movies that someone or other was supposed to throw something into the open grave, so I tossed in a linen handkerchief that Crystal had once given me. However, nobody else followed my gesture and I still regret having lost this small memorandum of Crystal's life.
The funeral wasn't as private as any of us would have liked. How could it have been? All of North and South Carolina, or at least those in the Charlotte metropolitan area, were interested in witnessing the final chapter of the Catawba River Murder (or the River Park Lynching or the English Rock Star Double Homicide). And there were those, I'm sure, who believed that Crystal deserved to die for the sin of being a godless lesbian atheist who shamed the moral rectitude of York County, SC.
There was a modest coterie of photographers who followed the funeral procession all the way from the exit door of the Joseph Armistead & Sons Funeral Home to the Forest Hills Cemetery. Although they kept a respectful distance, I could still hear the distant click of camera shutters as I bent my head down in memoriam. However, not even Polly has suggested that it was the relentless hounding of the press that had brought about Crystal's death. It might have worsened the generally sour atmosphere in the weeks and days that culminated in her tragic murder, but Crystal had escaped press attention sufficiently enough for her murderers and Judy's lynchers to remain unknown, undiscovered and free from the penalty of justice right up to the present day.
My enduring hope is that someone somewhere in Rock Hill or the Charlotte metropolitan area, almost certainly middle-aged and possibly balding, is now feeling sufficient remorse for his role in the rape and murder of the woman Polly Tarantella deems the greatest performer of popular music since at least the 1970s that he will come forward to the Rock Hill PD and hand himself in.
And with the funeral over, there was no longer a reason to remain a moment longer in South Carolina or the United States. So at long last (and after far longer than any of us would have chosen) we could set off for Charlotte Douglas International Airport and fly back to the United Kingdom.
I don't believe a single one of us was sorry to leave America behind.
Not that our arrival at Heathrow was especially auspicious. Or particularly anything much. There were no paparazzi or reporters stalking us on our return. In fact, it was pretty much as we'd hoped. The tensest moment was the wait by the carousel for our luggage after which we strolled unhindered through the green channel and then by Piccadilly Line on the long tube ride home.
It wasn't that our tragic American tour hadn't been news. It just wasn't the sort that would justify a press stake-out or more than a few column inches in the middle pages of a family newspaper. Sure there'd been obituaries for Crystal Passion in the Guardian, the NME, the Wire and Smash Hits, but I got the impression that the tribute writers got their information directly from our label, Gospel Records. There was a brief mention of Crystal Passion's murder on
Have I Got News for You
in which more effort was expended in explaining to Ian Hislop what a Riot Grrrl was than on any insight into Crystal Passion or her music. It was obvious that what interested the British media wasn't that a couple of almost unknown musicians had been murdered but that it took place in South Carolina which, by virtue of being one of the original Confederate States, was therefore the home of racism, religious bigotry and mind-blowing ignorance and stupidity. There is nothing that the British—in particular, the English—like more than to feel superior to a nation of straw-chewing, cross-burning, negro-lynching hicks.
A few radio plays of our songs, most particularly by the likes of John Peel and Mark Radcliffe, piqued interest in our music and this led to an early peak in our CD sales, which the hurriedly mixed and marketed posthumous fourth album went some way to satisfy. Although I still think
The Last Word
is the least satisfactory of Crystal Passion's albums, including her first solo acoustic album, it
is
the biggest selling.
"So, who's still active in the Crystal Passion Band?" our manager, Madeleine Tartt, asked when we met her in a small coffee shop near Paddington Station. I was accompanied by Tomiko and Jacquie while Madeleine had her chunky well-thumbed Filofax ever close at hand.
"Andrea says she won't have anything more to do with the band," I said. "Without Crystal, my sister says there's no point in the band continuing."
"OK," said Madeleine. "Who else is there?"
"Philippa and Bertha have become an item and they're travelling the world together," I said. "I think they might be in India or Armenia or somewhere."
"I don't think Olivia's interested in sticking with the band either," said Jacquie. "Not if Jane's still playing..."
"And are you and Jane still in?" asked Madeleine.
"Only if Pebbles keeps it together," said Jacquie, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.
"Jenny Alpha's living with Olivia now," I said. "So, if Olivia's left, then I guess Jenny has too. I don't know where Thelma is, but I don't think she'd be keen to be involved in a Crystal Passion band without Crystal. And I'm pretty sure the same goes for the Harlot."
"So, let's do the sums," said Madeleine, mostly addressing me. "If we assume that you stay in the band, and Jane and Jacquie too, then all we're left with is a trio. What about you, Tomiko? Do you want to work with Pebbles and the two sisters?"
"I'd do
anything
to keep the memory of Crystal Passion alive," said Tomiko with startling conviction. "It's what she deserves."
"So what we're left with is a rhythm section and a sound engineer," said Madeleine. "Can any of you sing or play guitar?"
I shook my head.
