Malcolm and Trevor talk on the phone:
‘I won’t go to the funeral.’
‘Your son’s funeral, Malcolm?’
‘What’s a funeral? Nothing.’
‘It means things to others. I’d go if I could. They’ll expect you to be there.’
‘What others? I’m alone in my grief. What others?’
‘Geraldine? Your grandsons? Helen?’
‘You talk as if Helen is still with us.’
‘She is, Malcolm. And she’s in as much pain as you are.’
‘Mournful spectre. Let her go then.’
‘Alone?’
‘We all are, aren’t we? Daniel was. For more than a week. More alone than any of us can hope to be.’
‘You have to go, Malcolm.’
‘I do not. I will not. I share nothing with anyone. I’m completely alone. Nothing is nothing to nothing.’
‘Malcolm? Malcolm?’