cheek with one hand and she stepped away from him slightly.
‘I’ll see you back at the house,’ he said and walked off to find his car.
Julie watched him go, then held out her hand for Donna to join her in the car.
‘Come on, Donna,’ she said gently, but then noticed that her sister was gazing in the direction of the grave. Julie followed her gaze.
‘I don’t know who they are,’ Donna said quietly, wiping her nose with her handkerchief.
There were three men standing by the graveside, the one in the centre tall and powerfully built. All three of them wore dark suits.
At such a distance Donna couldn’t make out their features.
‘Friends of Chris’s, I suppose,’ Julie said. ’‘You didn’t know all his friends, did you?’
‘Most of them,’ Donna told her, eyes still fixed on the trio of mourners.
She noticed one of them kneel beside the grave, squatting down on his haunches and leaning over the edge, as if he were looking for something in the deep hole.
‘Who are they?’ Donna murmured, finally allowing herself to be coaxed into the car by Julie.
The driver asked them if they were ready, then pulled slowly away.
Donna turned in her seat and looked out of the back window.
The three men were still beside the grave, all of them standing again now, still looking down intently at the coffin.
The car rounded a corner and they were lost from sight.
Donna sank back in her seat, her eyes closed, the vision of the three men fading from her mind.
Had she been able to, she would have seen the tallest of the three kick a clod of earth into the hole.
It landed with a thud on the coffin lid.
Twenty-Eight
She didn’t count the cars parked outside the house but there seemed to be at least a dozen, parked on the driveway and in the road.
As Donna moved through the sitting-room she glanced out of the window at the horde of vehicles. Inside, a low babble of chatter rose from the mourners who had returned to the house.
The caterers Julie had hired to provide food and drinks had set up a large table in the sitting-room, where they served guests with sandwiches and other snacks. In the kitchen they were using a tea urn and countless coffee pots to keep thirsts quenched.
The talk was subdued but interrupted by the odd laugh here and there. Laughs of relief, perhaps, now that the worst of the solemnity was over. A number of the men present loosened their ties.
Donna sat down by the window with a cup of tea in her hand, her eyes sore from crying, her head aching. She received the kind words and the advice with humility, concealing her desire that they should all simply leave her house as quickly as possible. They had paid their respects; now they had no reason to remain. But she pushed that thought to one side, grateful also for the concern.
Jackie Quinn glided across to her, kissed her on the cheek and squeezed her hand tightly, perching on the arm of the chair.
‘Today seems to be lasting forever,’ Donna said, smiling wanly. She squeezed Jackie’s hand more tightly. ‘Thanks for coming, Jackie.’
‘I wish there was more I could have done to help,’ she said, ‘but your caterers seem to be coping.’ She smiled.
‘Where’s Dave?’ Donna asked.
‘Getting himself a drink. I told him to get you one, too.’
‘Jackie, I couldn’t drink. Not now,’ Donna protested.
‘Yes, you can,’ Jackie said quietly. ‘A brandy will help you relax.’ She turned and saw Dave Turner entering the room, a glass in each hand. He smiled at Donna and made his way past a group of guests standing by the door talking.
As he stepped clear of them another man almost walked into him.
Donna frowned as she saw him.
It was one of the men who had been standing at Chris’s grave when the car had brought her away, she was sure of it.
The man apologized to Dave and made his way
‘I’ll see you back at the house,’ he said and walked off to find his car.
Julie watched him go, then held out her hand for Donna to join her in the car.
‘Come on, Donna,’ she said gently, but then noticed that her sister was gazing in the direction of the grave. Julie followed her gaze.
‘I don’t know who they are,’ Donna said quietly, wiping her nose with her handkerchief.
There were three men standing by the graveside, the one in the centre tall and powerfully built. All three of them wore dark suits.
At such a distance Donna couldn’t make out their features.
‘Friends of Chris’s, I suppose,’ Julie said. ’‘You didn’t know all his friends, did you?’
‘Most of them,’ Donna told her, eyes still fixed on the trio of mourners.
She noticed one of them kneel beside the grave, squatting down on his haunches and leaning over the edge, as if he were looking for something in the deep hole.
‘Who are they?’ Donna murmured, finally allowing herself to be coaxed into the car by Julie.
The driver asked them if they were ready, then pulled slowly away.
Donna turned in her seat and looked out of the back window.
The three men were still beside the grave, all of them standing again now, still looking down intently at the coffin.
The car rounded a corner and they were lost from sight.
Donna sank back in her seat, her eyes closed, the vision of the three men fading from her mind.
Had she been able to, she would have seen the tallest of the three kick a clod of earth into the hole.
It landed with a thud on the coffin lid.
Twenty-Eight
She didn’t count the cars parked outside the house but there seemed to be at least a dozen, parked on the driveway and in the road.
As Donna moved through the sitting-room she glanced out of the window at the horde of vehicles. Inside, a low babble of chatter rose from the mourners who had returned to the house.
The caterers Julie had hired to provide food and drinks had set up a large table in the sitting-room, where they served guests with sandwiches and other snacks. In the kitchen they were using a tea urn and countless coffee pots to keep thirsts quenched.
The talk was subdued but interrupted by the odd laugh here and there. Laughs of relief, perhaps, now that the worst of the solemnity was over. A number of the men present loosened their ties.
Donna sat down by the window with a cup of tea in her hand, her eyes sore from crying, her head aching. She received the kind words and the advice with humility, concealing her desire that they should all simply leave her house as quickly as possible. They had paid their respects; now they had no reason to remain. But she pushed that thought to one side, grateful also for the concern.
Jackie Quinn glided across to her, kissed her on the cheek and squeezed her hand tightly, perching on the arm of the chair.
‘Today seems to be lasting forever,’ Donna said, smiling wanly. She squeezed Jackie’s hand more tightly. ‘Thanks for coming, Jackie.’
‘I wish there was more I could have done to help,’ she said, ‘but your caterers seem to be coping.’ She smiled.
‘Where’s Dave?’ Donna asked.
‘Getting himself a drink. I told him to get you one, too.’
‘Jackie, I couldn’t drink. Not now,’ Donna protested.
‘Yes, you can,’ Jackie said quietly. ‘A brandy will help you relax.’ She turned and saw Dave Turner entering the room, a glass in each hand. He smiled at Donna and made his way past a group of guests standing by the door talking.
As he stepped clear of them another man almost walked into him.
Donna frowned as she saw him.
It was one of the men who had been standing at Chris’s grave when the car had brought her away, she was sure of it.
The man apologized to Dave and made his way
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