How to Say Goodbye

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 36 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 37 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 38 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 39 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 40 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 41 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 42 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 43 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 44 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 45 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 46 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 47 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 48 (#litres_trial_promo)

Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue (#ulink_9567ccf0-603b-5c50-8ee3-dff57386a84c)

I straightened my chiffon scarf so the small forget-me-nots lay flat against my crisp, white shirt. A quick tug of my sleeves, brushing off imaginary fluff, a pat of my hair, tied back in a neat ponytail, and I was as ready as I would ever be. My rubber-soled shoes allowed me to silently do the last check of the small room. Every seat was presentable – the flowers arranged just so – and the windows and mirrors were spotless. Not a fingerprint or smudge in sight. The lights were set to the correct level, the gaudy air freshener that had been here when I’d arrived was where it belonged – in the bin – the synthetic lily of the valley scent no longer catching at the back of your throat. I smiled at the calming space. It looked perfect.

It had been another late night, preparing for today and the other services I had this week. I could hear my boss Frank’s voice warning me that I was going to end up burnt out if I wasn’t careful. I’d already had niggles with my neck and shoulders that he was convinced were stress-related, despite my insistences that I was fine. I’d catch up on sleep this weekend, I promised myself.

The sound of car tyres pulled me away from giving one of the red ribbons I’d looped though the end of the pews a final flourish. The family hadn’t specified a colour scheme but, as Mr Oakes had been a lifelong Liverpool FC fan, I thought they’d appreciate the gesture.

I straightened up and nodded to Leon, who was giving the sound system a once-over. He was my favourite of the team. He understood what I was trying to achieve without too much questioning, usually a slight raising of his bushy grey eyebrows or pressing his thin lips together would be all he’d say about some of my more ‘out there’ ideas. I ran a finger over the lectern. Clean as a whistle.

‘Leon, before I forget, did you get my message about next Wednesday? The Rivers family want to change their dove release from before to after the memorial slot.’

Leon nodded. ‘Don’t you worry. When would I ever let you down?’

‘Thank you.’ I was about to mention something else when a soft tinkle of an alarm began playing.

‘That’s our two-minute warning,’ I said, fishing my phone from my pocket, switching it to silent and double-checking the time.

Earlier I’d received a call that the cars had left precisely on time. I’d asked the drivers to take a slight detour that I hoped would bring some comfort to the family, if it went to plan. I had already checked the online route map for any last-minute traffic jams, diversions or roadworks, and had breathed a sigh of relief – everything looked clear.

I’d also made sure to check the weather app in case we needed to provide more umbrellas – Spring had been all over the place. I’d learnt quickly that small things like bottles of water in the cars and even sunscreen could make a huge difference. People didn’t remember to take things like that with them on days like these.

‘Seriously, Grace.’ Leon nodded at my phone, unable to hide a smile. ‘An alarm?’

‘You get on with your job and I’ll get on with mine,’ I replied politely.