I leaned across to tell Raymond, but he had fished a bag of peppermints from his suit pocket and offered me one before I could speak.
I popped it in and sucked. Other people had joined us on the pew, and we’d had to shuffle up like crabs to make space for them.
I was therefore in very close proximity to Mr. Raymond Gibbons.
I noticed that he smelled extremely pleasant today; the peppermints, of course, but also a clean soap scent and something almost woody, like cedar.
I hadn’t seen him smoke a cigarette yet. I suppose even Raymond would think it inappropriate to smoke a cigarette outside a crematorium.
The rest of the family entered and sat beside Sammy’s boys on the front pew; Laura was on her own, looking impossibly glamorous.
Dark glasses! Indoors! Astonishing. They were followed by a jolly-looking minister.
A man at a keyboard tucked away in the corner flexed his fingers and started to play, and we shuffled to our feet.
The words to the hymn were printed in the booklet but I found that I could remember them from childhood.
The communal singing was of extremely poor quality, more like an atonal mumble,
and the minister’s unpleasant voice was overly loud, perhaps because he was wearing a lapel microphone.
He really ought to turn it off for the hymns, I thoughtthere was no need to amplify his caterwauling.
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