The congregation filed out, shaking hands and mumbling meaningless platitudes. I did the same.
There was a collection basket for the British Heart Foundation, “in lieu of flowers,” and I saw Raymond drop in a twenty-pound note.
I put in three pound coins. If anything, I felt that this was overly generous.
Researching new drugs and efficacious treatments for heart disease costs hundreds of millions of pounds.
Three pounds or three hundred pounds—it was hardly going to swing the balance between finding and not finding a cure, after all.
I perched on a low wall behind the crematorium and turned my face to the sun. I felt utterly exhausted.
After a moment, Raymond sat beside me, and I heard the click of his lighter. I didn’t even have the energy to move away.
He blew out a long stream of smoke. “All right?” he said. I nodded. “You?” He shrugged.
“Not a big fan of funerals, to be honest,” he said. He looked away.
“Reminds me of my dad. It was years ago, but it’s still hard, you know?”
I nodded; that made sense. Time only blunts the pain of loss. It doesn’t erase it.
“I really, really, really do not want to go to the Hawthorn House Hotel for light refreshments, Raymond,” I said.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색