Auditui meo dabis gaudium et laetitiam: et exsultabunt ossa humiliata.

Let me hear of joy and gladness: that the bones which You have broken may rejoice.

Averte faciem tuam a peccatis meis: et omnes i niquitates meas dele.

Turn Your face from my sins: and blot out all my misdeeds.

Second coat. He has so much he wants to say, but right now, her warm, soft hand is in his, and he is making her beautiful for her wedding and they are listening to Allegri’s ‘Miserere’.

Cor mundum crea in me, Deus: et spiritum rectum innova in visceribus meis.

Create a clean heart, O God: and renew a right spirit within me.

Ne proiicias me a facie tua: et spiritum sanctum tuum ne auferas a me.

Do not cast me away from Your presence: and do not take Your holy spirit from me.

Redde mihi laetitiam salutaris tui: et spiritu principali confirma me.

O give me the comfort of Your help again: and ’stablish me with Your free spirit.

Once it’s over, he looks up to meet her eyes, which are fixed on him.

‘I’m so sorry for how I treated you, Mum.’ He’s worried he might cry.

She smiles gently and puts her hand on his. ‘I tore you in two with the way I treated Robert and Howard.’ She withdraws her hand and sits back. ‘You know, there’s a madness that comes with grief. For a good few years after your father died, I had a layer of skin missing.’ She rubs a hand slowly the length of her arm. ‘I was raw. The sight of your uncle was like having salt rubbed onto that rawness.’ She scrunches her face. ‘I was so jealous they still had each other. I’ve apologised to them, but I’m glad I can apologise to you now. I hated how close you were to them, when really that was a wonderful thing.’

‘I’m glad you’re getting married. Dad would be too, I’m sure of it.’

‘Thank you, William. I’ll never forget him.’

‘I know.’ They sit in easy silence for a few moments. ‘I didn’t think you’d actually go to Swansea without me.’ He didn’t plan to say this, and worries he sounds churlish.

She nods. ‘I didn’t think you wouldn’t come! For the first six months I changed the bed in the spare room every week, so it would be fresh if you turned up.’ She shakes her head. ‘What a terrible mess we can make of our lives. There should be angel police to stop us at these dangerous moments, but there don’t seem to be. So all we’re left with, my precious son, is whether we can forgive, be forgiven, and keep trying our best.’

‘We’d best go for it then, hadn’t we?’