‘He confided that he wanted to be a teacher,’ Adam managed after a second, his voice choked. ‘Wondered what I thought. He was concerned I’d be disappointed that he didn’t want to join me in the business, I think. I told him that Cassie and I would both be proud of him. It was a perfect vocation for someone with a caring soul and a natural instinct to help others.
‘He had so many plans. One of those was to take Cassie and me to a concert to see his favourite band, whose music we chose today because it was so much a part of who he was. There was one song he played over and over. It talks about every day being a miracle, helping one another and connecting back with people. We didn’t realise until he’d gone what a miracle every day we had with Josh was. He laughed a lot, loved people, loved life. He wasn’t the kind of person who would hunker down and wait for the storm to pass; he danced in the rain. Remembering his enthusiasm and desire to live life to the full, seeing the many friends he made, I know in my heart he wouldn’t want us to hide away in our grief. He would want us to celebrate his life by remembering the good times and living ours.’
He stopped, looking directly at Cassie. Even from yards away, she could see the anguish in his eyes. He was as broken as she was. How could he not be? To begin with, she hadn’t felt she could go on, hadn’t thought she deserved to. Josh had left because of her, because of the silly argument they’d had. She would never forgive herself for that. Now, though… Imagining Adam trying to deal with grief twice over, the torture he would suffer, undoubtedly blaming himself again if she chose what seemed to be an easier option than trying to live without her son, she knew she could never do that to him.
‘Goodbye, Josh,’ he said unsteadily. ‘You were the best son anyone could ever have. We’re not ready to lose you, but we have to let go. Wherever you are, stay safe in the knowledge that we love you.’
Cassie wanted to run as the curtains began to close, not away from her boy’s coffin, but towards it. She was scared, terrified for him. She couldn’t bear the thought of him going through this on his own.
It was her brother who stilled her. ‘Come on, Cas,’ he urged her, his arm sliding around her shoulders as she stood, only to feel the muscles in her legs grow weak. ‘Josh will always be with us in our hearts.’
How?Cassie stifled a sob as she leant into him. How could he be in her heart when he’d taken it with him?
She felt Adam’s arm around her as they made their way to the exit. ‘We have to thank his friends,’ he said softly. ‘But if you’re not up to it…’
Cassie drew in a breath. It stopped short of the raw pain in her chest. ‘I’m fine,’ she murmured, wiping futilely at the tears on her cheeks. She had to do this. Seeing so many of Josh’s friends here today, she’d ached with a combination of fierce pride and stomach-wrenching sorrow. She had to thank them personally, meet the young people who’d shared his life and were also grieving the loss of him.
Standing outside the church, she made herself smile as she and Adam went through the formalities, shaking hands with people, many assuring them how loved their son was. The look in one girl’s eyes as she approached them, a young man supporting her, tore a fresh wound in her heart. She was obviously distraught.
‘I’m so sorry,’ the girl whispered, hugging Cassie fiercely for a brief second before pressing a hand to her mouth and turning away.
The young man with her fed her into the arms of another woman, who led her away towards the toilets, and then turned back to shake Adam’s hand. ‘I’m sorry for your loss, Mr Colby,’ he said, his own eyes shiny with tears he was clearly working to hold back.
Smiling briefly, Adam nodded his appreciation. ‘Thank you…?’
‘Ryan Anderson,’ the young man supplied. ‘I was a couple of years above Josh at school. Jemma… my wife… she knew him too. He was a good mate, looked out for people, you know?’
Cassie smiled, though it felt like there were a thousand shards of glass inside her. She knew that was true. Growing up, Josh was always surrounded by friends who thought the world of him. ‘Your wife and I have met briefly,’ she said, swallowing back her tears. ‘Thank you both for being here for him, Ryan.’
‘I’d better get Jemma home.’ Ryan nodded after her. ‘She’s not feeling too well.’
‘She’s clearly very upset.’ Guessing her baby was due soon, Cassie smiled understandingly. ‘Please thank her for me, and pass on my best to her.’
‘I’ll make sure to,’ Ryan promised.
‘His rugby coach is here,’ Adam said, indicating the man as Ryan turned away. ‘I’ll just go and acknowledge him.’
Cassie smiled gratefully, guessing he would know what to say to him. Glancing around, she caught sight of a girl with long flame-coloured hair standing hesitantly by the churchyard gates. Noticing her looking in her direction, she wondered whether she might be about to approach her, but the girl looked away, gazing around as if searching for someone. She seemed very young, her face pale, without any apparent make-up. She was heavily pregnant, her thin cotton smock dress accentuating her bump. Cassie’s breath caught in her throat as she noticed the cross-body bag she was wearing.
It was Josh’s. She’d bought it from John Lewis for his birthday. She was sure it was the same one. The girl had obviously known him well, if she had his bag. Cassie’s heartbeat quickened and she took a step towards her, then stopped as Adam pressed a hand to her arm. ‘He’s coming on to the reception,’ he said. ‘How are you holding up?’
‘Coping. Just,’ she assured him with a small smile. ‘I was wondering who that girl was.’ She nodded back to the gates, but the girl had gone.
Two
Cassandra
Twelve weeks since Josh’s death. Twenty-four years since the day he was born, the day that had started out as the bleakest day of her life and had turned into the best. Cassie stared at the alarm clock she kept by her bed. Wished she could will the hands back. She’d thought she would leave the hospital empty-handed; instead she’d left with a miracle. How could she continue going through the days, marking them off on a calendar, when there seemed to be no purpose in life, no future worth facing without him?
She hadn’t realised her time with him would be so short when she’d brought him home, examining every perfect inch of him before placing him in his pretty white cot. She’d vowed to love and protect this child until the day she died. She hadn’t lived up to her promise. Josh had been snatched away from her. It was karma, Cassie was sure of it.
She listened to the sounds of life going on around her: cows mooing in the fields that backed onto the house, pre-milking; neighbours shouting hello to each other as they went through the morning ritual, climbing into cars and slamming doors; the letter box flapping, a dull thud as the newspapers landed on the hall floor bringing news she was no longer interested in. As a reporter, she always used to scan them. Now they piled up, unread.
She could hear Adam downstairs, making tea she couldn’t bring herself to drink. He was trying so hard to be there for her; to reach out and comfort her. Her heart constricted as she recalled how he’d tried to embrace her once the police had left after delivering the news she’d begged them not to tell her. She’d pulled away from him. His arms around her, his palpable grief would have made it real. She didn’t want it to be real. Couldn’t bear it, had to contain it, the silent scream rising inside her, the terror.
She’d gone upstairs, something driving her, some desperate hope that she would find her son there, lying on his bed, his stuff strewn all over the place, a bemused smile on his face as he wondered what all the fuss was about. He wasn’t there. Cassie had whimpered like a wounded animal. She’d heard the sound escaping her mouth as she’d wrapped her arms around herself. She hadn’t realised at first that it had come from her.
She’d sensed Adam standing hesitantly behind her as she’d gazed at the newly decorated walls in Josh’s room. She couldn’t smell him, she’d realised, above the paint fumes. And she’d needed to. Oh God, how she’d needed to. ‘It feels as if we painted him out of our lives the day we did this,’ she’d whispered.
