BooksBarbecue
Back Afterlove
Chapters (86)
  1. Title Page
  2. CONTENTS
  3. Love
  4. Before
  5. One
  6. ONE
  7. Two
  8. TWO
  9. Three
  10. THREE
  11. Four
  12. FOUR
  13. Five
  14. FIVE
  15. Six
  16. SIX
  17. Seven
  18. SEVEN
  19. Eight
  20. EIGHT
  21. Nine
  22. NINE
  23. Ten
  24. TEN
  25. Eleven
  26. ELEVEN
  27. After
  28. One
  29. ONE
  30. Two
  31. TWO
  32. Three
  33. THREE
  34. Four
  35. FOUR
  36. Five
  37. FIVE
  38. Six
  39. SIX
  40. Seven
  41. SEVEN
  42. Eight
  43. EIGHT
  44. Nine
  45. NINE
  46. Ten
  47. TEN
  48. Eleven
  49. ELEVEN
  50. Twelve
  51. TWELVE
  52. Thirteen
  53. THIRTEEN
  54. Fourteen
  55. FOURTEEN
  56. Fifteen
  57. FIFTEEN
  58. Sixteen
  59. SIXTEEN
  60. Seventeen
  61. SEVENTEEN
  62. Eighteen
  63. EIGHTEEN
  64. Nineteen
  65. NINETEEN
  66. Twenty
  67. TWENTY
  68. Twenty-One
  69. TWENTY-ONE
  70. Twenty-Two
  71. TWENTY-TWO
  72. Twenty-Three
  73. TWENTY-THREE
  74. Twenty-Four
  75. TWENTY-FOUR
  76. Twenty-Five
  77. TWENTY-FIVE
  78. Twenty-Six
  79. TWENTY-SIX
  80. Twenty-Seven
  81. TWENTY-SEVEN
  82. Twenty-Eight
  83. TWENTY-EIGHT
  84. Eleven Months Later
  85. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  86. Copyright

I do, but as we move further away from the street light spilling in through the hole in the wall and the ceiling of leaves above our heads gets thicker, it becomes harder to see where I’m going. It doesn’t help that Esen is all in black, just a shadow ahead of me that I try not to lose sight of as I pick my way through the uneven carpet of broken branches. My toe gets caught in a tangle of weeds and I stumble forward, heading face-first into a spider’s web. I gasp, arms flailing, as the fine threads melt into my cheeks, but Esen catches me again, telling me to be careful as she takes me by the arm and leads me out on to a large lawn.

Now that we’re away from the embrace of the trees, I can see the moon, high and bright in the sky, casting enough light to illuminate where we’re standing. But before I can see where we are, a small bird swoops over our heads and I gasp again, ducking and covering the top of my head with my hands.

‘Will you calm down?’ Esen hisses. ‘It’s just a bat.’

‘A bat?’

That’s even worse.

She doesn’t seem fazed, though, pointing to the left. ‘That’s the entrance, so it must be this way.’

‘What is?’ I ask, but she’s already walking away. I have to trot to catch up and when I do, I stop, turning in a circle, my eyes wide as I realise that we’re surrounded by gravestones.

‘Is this a cemetery?’ I frown. ‘You’re taking your goth aesthetic way too far, Esen.’

‘Don’t worry. I haven’t brought any cider.’

She laughs, but I don’t.

We pass under the shadow of a huge tree, its branches twisting up as if trying to touch the sky. As we do, the gravestones begin to straighten, becoming more evenly spaced, the flowers on them fresher, as old stone gives way to smooth, sharp granite. These headstones are easier to read, the gold lettering seeming to glow in the moonlight, but I don’t dare look at them, focusing on Esen, who is a few steps ahead. Her pace finally eases and as it does, I notice that these graves don’t have headstones at all and are covered with wreaths and flowers spelling out NAN and DAD, each one seeming to compete with the next. Some have those brightly coloured pinwheels, the ones you get at the beach, and others are flanked by fat church candles, long blown out by the wind or melted into waxy puddles on the grass. One even has a blue and white Brighton & Hove Albion scarf draped over the top and I can’t help but think about who put it there. How careful they were not to disturb the mound of wreaths beneath.