Will held his mother’s hand as they stood at the graveside together, the sun’s rays catching the leaves of the enormous oak trees above them, casting a dappled light onto the freshly mown grass at their feet.
The private ceremony had been short, attended only by Will, his mother, and Erin, but the words of the eulogy had been heartfelt and delivered with appropriate respect by the ageing vicar.
Flowers from Amy’s colleagues at the newspaper covered the coffin, her editor respecting Will’s mother’s request for privacy to mourn.
His mother squeezed his hand, then bent down and picked up a handful of the freshly dug soil next to the graveside, closed her fingers, and kissed them before releasing the dirt onto the coffin below.
Will wiped at the tears that had begun to course down his cheeks, and then took the handkerchief Erin held out to him.
‘Thanks,’ he mumbled.
His voice shook, the finality of the moment hitting him like a punch to the stomach. He bent down and scooped up a handful of the soil, closed his fist around it, and kissed his fingers.
‘Night, sis.’
He relaxed his grip and let the dirt fall from his hand, tears streaking his cheeks. A shuddering sigh left him as the last of the soil fell between his fingers, and he turned to his mother.
‘Come here,’ she said. ‘Walk with me.’
He followed his mother along the gravel path, Erin several paces behind, giving them time alone.
One of the carers from the hospice waited next to a liveried four-door sedan, the logo of the care home splashed along its sides.
His mother stopped when they were several paces from the car, reached up and held his face between her hands, her eyes bright.
‘Your dad would’ve been so proud of you, Will,’ she said. ‘And I am, too.’
‘I lost Amy,’ he whispered. ‘It’s my fault she’s dead.’
‘No!’ His mother’s response was emphatic. ‘No, you’re not responsible, Will. The man who was responsible is dead. Never forget that.’ She patted his cheek gently, and then drew him into her arms. ‘Amy chose to go after Rossiter without you. I’m proud of her, too. But you need to move on from this, Will. Your dad and Amy would have wanted that.’
‘I don’t think I know how to.’
She patted his cheek once more then began to walk towards the waiting car.
The carer took her arm and gently helped her into the vehicle. Before the door was closed, his mother’s gaze flickered behind Will, to where Erin stood, and then back to him before she smiled.
‘You’ll work it out.’
As the car pulled away, Erin slipped her hand into his and squeezed.
‘What are you going to do now?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Can I make a suggestion?’
‘Go on.’
She stopped, pulling him to a halt. ‘Let it go now, Will. It’s done.’
He pulled her into a hug and stared over the top of her head at the gravedigger and his assistant waiting patiently under one of the oak trees, a thin trail of blue smoke lifting into the air from their cigarettes.
‘You’re probably right,’ he murmured, then took Erin’s hand and led her back to the car.
‘Revenge is an ugly master.’
THE END