Page 2 of The Next Chapter

That fucking after again.

‘If that’s what you want me to do, I’ll think about it.’

He closes his eyes.

‘I know you’re lying.’ Half his mouth is tilted into a small smile.

‘I am not!’ I protest. Even though I definitely was lying. I can’t see any good reason for finding Lola, none at all.

‘Just read the letter, Lily, promise me.’ His eyes are open again. Bright blue, piercing in the way they hold my gaze.

I take a deep breath.

‘Okay, I promise. I’ll read the letter. Don’t worry about that now. Just please, don’t worry about anything.’

* * *

Six Weeks Later

Dying is wild.

That’s what I’m thinking as Dad’s coffin disappears behind a set of beige curtains in the crematorium. It just doesn’t make any sense. No sense at all. How can a person be here one minute and then in a box behind some drab curtains another?

They really are drab.

It’s possibly an inappropriate thought to be having at your own dad’s funeral. But focusing on the grim curtains is a useful distraction. Better that than to think about what is disappearing into them.

The curtains finally shut, and I can feel the eyes of everyone in the crematorium burning into the back of my neck. The place is packed – and I guess that is one of the benefits of dying young. Even if it is something of a pyrrhic victory, the fact that there’s a whole host of people who are still alive and well enough to come to your funeral. Dad’s friends are all here. Our neighbour, Mr Cains. Colleagues from school. Even the fucking window cleaner is here.

I think I’m going to be sick.

The music that Dad had picked for the end of the ceremony is still playing; it’s one of the songs we’d had at Mum’s funeral, too.

I’m not sure whether you get to call yourself an orphan at twenty-nine. Orphan makes me think of Oliver Twist and his bowl of grey gruel. It’s just so strange to think that they’re both gone, like I’ve become untethered somehow. Without either of my parents, it’s just me, floating around in the world, all alone.

I wait while the last few beats strum out. The song ends and… oh god, I’m still imagining myself bobbing about like a giant balloon in the sky. I think I’m having a breakdown.

‘Lily, are you okay?’ I turn slowly to Colin, my boyfriend, looking at him like I’ve never seen him before.

‘Course she’s not okay, dipshit, she’s at her dad’s funeral. Come on, you need a drink.’ Seb, my best friend, answers for me. If I wasn’t in some sort of state of suspended animation, I might register the flash of hurt that Colin tries to hide. But I think I’ve maxed out my capacity to feel bad. Like Seb said, I am at my dad’s funeral.

‘What do I do now?’ I ask them both. They’re on either side of me, in the front pew. Chief mourners because I don’t have any family left. I’m not sure when exactly I started clinging to Seb, but he’s half holding me up and I’m only just realizing it.

‘Now we’re going to the wake,’ Seb answers. ‘You’ve organized it all. You just need to move.’

I nod. Okay, wake, move, I can do this.

I try to steel myself for the rest of the day.

There’s a creak from somewhere behind. It rattles through the almost silent crematorium, echoing off the stone walls. I turn, not caring that everyone will see how red my eyes are.

The door is open, just a fraction. It’s only like that for a second before it closes again.

And maybe I’m just searching for meaning in an uncaring universe, but the door opening and closing like that feels important. It feels like the end of something, or else a beginning.

Chapter One

One Year Later