She had managed to keep a straight face all through the service but now as the vicar led the final prayer and the wooden coffin began to slide through the curtains to its fate, she couldn’t hold it back anymore.
“Chris . . .!”
The anguished cry tore itself from her lips and her shoulders began to shake as she sobbed. Besides her, Joanne, her sister put her arm around her to comfort her; tears visible in her eyes as she tried to comfort the young widow. Finally the curtains swayed back into place as the coffin disappeared from their view forever and Joanne felt her sisters’ shoulders stiffen as the sobs subsided. She nodded at the funeral director Charles, who stood, his professionally solemn face masking his own feelings at the death of his best friend since childhood.
The soberly dressed man stepped forward and helped Joanne to guide her sister to her feet and with this the rest of the ushers, coffin bearers at the start of the service, ushers now, began to organise the congregation for an ordered passage from the chapel.
Outside Allison stood there in her long black dress with the veil still hanging over her face looking bleakly out at the flower tributes to her husband, taken from her by cancer after only two years of marriage.
The other mourners, family, friends and acquaintances were lined up to give their condolences. Chris’ mother Pat, hugged her and took her place alongside Allison to accept the condolences of the line of mourners who were slowly filing past the flowers. Her own husband had been cremated here less than a year before and she knew exactly how Allison was feeling but her own grief prevented her from helping the daughter-in-law she adored.
Finally the long queue of mourners completed their pilgrimage through the flowered wreaths before dispersing across the car park to make their own way to the wake.