Finally Nadine walked to the front. She looked a thousand years old, her eyes bottomless. She raised her face to speak then faltered, shook her head and covered her mouth. Murmurs of support echoed from the congregation. She tried again, her voice just audible. ‘This is how I remember Danny, my brother. His spirit is with me still. He will always be with me.’
A large screen to the left of the altar lit up and a cascade of images and music unfolded, fragments from Danny’s YouTube pieces, home movies, band practice. Danny fooling around, showing off, Danny concentrating, one arm rubbing the back of his neck, Danny singing, his eyes closed, mouth close to the mic, Danny trying to moonwalk, Danny with a wig on performing a speech from his drama course, opening a Christmas present. Laughing, head flung back, arms wide. The life shining from him. The picture froze and Reverend James thanked them all and invited them to the burial at Southern Cemetery.
Finally, as the procession followed the coffin out of the church, faces blurred with grief, ‘Abraham, Martin, John’ soared, filling the space, Marvin Gaye’s song about how the good die young. Cheryl sobbed and clung to her nana and Milo crawled between them pulling at their sleeves, disturbed by all these tears.
At the cemetery, a couple of miles south of the church, Milo was restless and Cheryl let him wander about while they lowered the coffin into the grave and Reverend James spoke again. The mourners sang at the graveside – one of the cousins had printed off hymn sheets. The day was still, muffled, but the voices sounded raw and broken. Cheryl couldn’t sing. Her chest felt too tight.
They waited until the grave was filled. Cheryl knew there were old stories from the islands of the dead trying to walk again, or of robbers taking the body, and people were still superstitious even in a different country and modern times.
Back at the church hall, Milo staggered about between legs, under the buffet tables, fractious and full of temper. Cheryl took him out and pushed him in his stroller round the car park until he fell asleep. After that, for the next two hours, even the sound of the band playing didn’t wake him.
The day wound on, the lights came on in the hall, half the guests were outside smoking. Cheryl had lost count of the people she’d spoken to, the cigarettes she’d had. Vinia had been cosying up to one of the boys from Birmingham, even though she knew he was due to be a daddy with another girl.
When they finally left, Vinia walked back with them. A starless sky. The streets looked tired in the sodium light, jaundiced. Cheryl wanted Vinia gone but Nana asked her if she’d like to stay and she said yes, double quick.