Chapter 50
Where I come from it helps to be hungry if you’re bereaved.
The church hall had three trestle tables loaded with sandwiches, sausage rolls, scones, iced buns, Madeira cake, and someone had brought a quiche. It didn’t look like much had been eaten.
People had made their way there after leaving the graveyard. Some faces I knew, most I didn’t. Mrs O’Neill was there along with some students from our year; those who had run with Ronan, kicked football with him, voted for him at the formal. They didn’t stay long.
Jennifer was there. Her mum and dad waited outside, apparently eager to get back home to pack for their trip to Prague the next day.
‘I’m not going to go, I’m staying here,’ Jennifer said, ‘with you.’
‘No, go,’ I said. ‘It’s only for the weekend, isn’t it? Besides, they can’t just fly off to Prague and leave you on your own, can they?’
‘Well, they can,’ she said. ‘They would. I’ll call you tonight, OK?’
She kissed me and hugged me tight one last time.
‘I’m so proud of you,’ she said in my ear.
Then she left.
As the dusk light began to beam through the windows, it was only Mr and Mrs McCoy, my mum and dad and me left in the hall.
We helped stack the chairs, clear rubbish, put the tables away and the bins outside and swept the floor.
The caretaker said we didn’t have to help but we wanted to even though we were exhausted.
We worked meticulously as if we didn’t want the day to end.
We eventually did step outside and stood on the pavement as the caretaker closed the doors behind us, locked them, put a chain around the door handles and clicked a padlock.
He put the key in his jacket and walked up the road with his hands in his pockets.
I watched him go, lighting a cigarette on the way, until he turned a corner and was gone.
All five of us had been watching him.
With nothing else to focus on we turned to each other.
The day was over.
It was time to go.
So we did.