* * *
Emmy just about managed to get through the funeral, though she couldn’t help bawling her eyes out during ‘Abide With Me’. The bit about where was Death’s sting always got to her. ‘Amazing Grace’ put a lump in her throat as well, and when the church echoed to Eva Cassidy singing ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ there wasn’t a dry eye anywhere.
Though she was glad that everyone was wearing bright colours rather than black, to celebrate Ally and Pete’s life and the precious memories. It was important to share the good stuff as well as mourn them. To give them a decent send-off.
Tyler was an angel.
And Dylan was amazing.
He was sitting in the front row, next to her; when he stood up to do the eulogies from the pulpit, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Even though the tears were spilling down her cheeks as he spoke the words she’d written about her best friend.
She hugged him when he returned to his seat. ‘You did a fantastic job,’ she whispered. ‘Just perfect.’
* * *
Dylan returned the hug, even though bits of him worried that he quite liked the feel of Emmy in his arms. He dismissed it simply as grief coming out. He wasn’t attracted to Emmy Jacobs.
Ha—who was he trying to kid? Of course he was.
But he couldn’t act on that attraction, for Tyler’s sake. Getting involved with Emmy would make everything way too complicated. It would be better to keep his distance, the way he always did.
Friends neither he nor Emmy had seen since university days had come to the funeral. Back at the house, everyone was talking about the room divider Emmy had made with the photographs, sharing memories and the house echoed with as much laughter as tears.
The food was working out, too. Emmy was bustling around, sorting out the drinks and topping up the empty plates. Her mum had helped out and done way, way more than his own mother would’ve done if she’d been there. Between the three of them, they’d managed to handle this.
Finally everyone went and the clearing up started.
‘You look really tired,’ Emmy said gently to Ally’s and Pete’s parents. ‘Why don’t you go and lie down for a bit? Dylan and I can sort all this out.’
‘We can’t leave you to do all this, love,’ Ally’s dad said.
‘Yes, you can. It’s been a really tough day for us all, and I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it’s been for you. You need some rest. I’ll bring you up a cup of tea in a minute.’
‘Thank you, love,’ Pete’s mum said.
Again, Dylan found himself marvelling. Pete and Ally’s parents clearly knew Emmy well and liked her. He was beginning to think that he was the one who was totally out of step. She’d been brilliant today. He made a mental note to cut her more slack in future.
Emmy’s mum stayed to help, then kissed Emmy goodbye and, to Dylan’s surprise, gave him a hug. ‘Take care of yourself and call me if you need me, OK? That goes for both of you. Any time.’
He found himself envying Emmy’s closeness to her mum. If only his own mother had been like that, maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe he would’ve known how to really love someone and not made such a mess of his marriage. Though he appreciated the way Emmy’s mother had included him. How would Emmy have got on with his family? He had a feeling that Emmy would’ve liked his gran, and his gran would’ve liked Emmy.
And this was dangerous territory. He couldn’t let himself think about this.
Emmy put Tyler to bed while he finished moving all the furniture back. Then she took a tray up to Pete and Ally’s parents with tea and sandwiches.
When she came back down, Dylan noticed that she looked upset.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘They’re not coming down again today. I think it’s exhausted all of them.’ She bit her lip. ‘It’s so wrong, having to bury your child. It isn’t the natural order of things. I really feel for them. Today they all seemed to age ten years in a matter of seconds. Did you see Ally’s dad walking into church? He had to hold on to the side of the pew until he composed himself. It’s not that long ago he was walking down that aisle with Ally on his arm in that gorgeous fishtail dress, and you and Pete were waiting at the altar.’
‘Yeah, I remember,’ Dylan said softly. ‘And you’re right. Burying a parent must be hard, but it’s more the natural order. Burying your child must be the worst feeling in the world.’
‘And there’s nothing we can do to make it better.’ Her voice cracked and she looked anguished.
‘I know, but I think we did Pete and Ally proud,’ he said. ‘Everyone was here celebrating them.’
She nodded. ‘You’re right. I think it’s what they would’ve wanted.’
He wandered over to look at the photos on the divider, and saw the one of Emmy and Ally together as students.
‘Your hair looks absolutely terrible. Whatever made you dye it blue?’
She came to join him and shrugged. ‘I was a design student. We all did that sort of thing back then.’
‘It looks nice now. Obviously it’s not your natural colour but it suits you. It brings out your eyes.’ He reached out to brush a lock of hair from her face.
‘Careful, Dylan. Anyone might think we were on the way to being friends, with you paying me compliments like that.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Maybe we are.’
She dragged in a breath. ‘I wish it hadn’t taken Ally and Pete to die before we started to see—well, what they saw in us.’
‘Me, too.’ He gave her a crooked smile. ‘We can’t change the past. But, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I misjudged you. You’re not the needy, flaky mess I thought you were.’
Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m sorry I misjudged you, too. You’re still a bit judgemental, and you open your mouth before you think about what’s going to come out of it. You might have the social skills of a rhino, but you do have a heart.’
Did he? Sometimes he wasn’t so sure. He’d built so many walls around it that it was lost.
She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘Now I’m being wet. Ignore me.’
‘It’s OK. I’m not that far off crying, myself,’ he admitted. He looked at her. ‘Do you want a glass of wine?
She nodded.
‘Me, too. Come on.’
He poured them each a glass of wine and then put some soft piano music on before curling up on the opposite end of the sofa to her. Her toes touched his ankle, but it didn’t make him want to pull away. Weirdly, he felt more comfortable with her now, on one of the saddest days of his life, than he ever had before.
‘I like this. What is it?’ she asked.
‘Einaudi. You work to classical music, don’t you?’
‘Vivaldi—not “the Four Seasons”, because that’s been overplayed to the point where I find it almost impossible to listen to it, but I like his cello concerti. They’re calming and regular, good to work to.’
‘I was looking at your website,’ he said. ‘You’re very talented.’
She looked surprised, but inclined her head in acknowledgement of the compliment. ‘Thank you.’
‘But