I want to mingle, and yet I don’t. I really, really don’t. I want to make sure everybody knows who I am, that I’m Jack’s girlfriend; but I also don’t want be here at all, because quite frankly, who wants to be at a funeral? I want two weeks ago; I want a month ago; I want anything that isn’t this. But I want to be involved.

Because I am. Involved.

As I make my way from the bench beneath the tree towards the crowd, I wonder when everybody here saw Jack last. He’d spent the majority of the past few months with me, or at work. I bet some of these people haven’t seen him in years. I had sex with him the morning before he—

A hand touches my shoulder.

‘Hey … Chloe, right?’

I nearly scream.

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you!’ It’s Badge.

He’s slight and holds his suit jacket by the collar, resting it upon his shoulder casually, pushing his square-framed specs further up his nose. I think his full name is Paul Badger, a colleague of Jack’s. I went to his house for drinks and nibbles one Sunday last month, something Jack thought would be a good laugh, except there were lots of small children. The majority of adults were bent at the waist chasing their offspring around in a tizz. When Jack had gone to the loo, I’d got stuck talking to a couple about potty training and catchment areas. We didn’t stay long.

‘Nice to see you again,’ I say, like an idiot.

‘Terrible, isn’t it?’ Badge says, clearly bewildered.

I nod.

‘We just can’t believe it,’ he shakes his head. ‘The whole team, we’re just, you know.’

‘Yeah.’

Then Badge holds up one hand and crosses his fingers.

‘So were you and Jack an item?’ he asks.

‘I’d just moved in with him.’

‘So that was you! I presumed so. Jack mentioned he was living with a lady.’

I’m grateful for this information and although I don’t say anything, I hope others heard it.

‘Such a horrid tragedy though,’ Badge says, swallowing. ‘And the driver—’

He stops abruptly as we notice the hush descending amongst us. An almost-silence falls. The only sounds creeping in are the leaves on the trees rustling in a soft breeze. The cars are here. They move so slowly that they don’t make a sound. Around me, people gently edge towards the church entrance. I can’t see anything. No coffin, no wreath that spells out Jack. I just see the black roofs of cars and allow the crowds to pass me by, my heels sinking into the soft, grassy earth. Badge is no longer beside me; he’s nowhere to be seen. There’s crying. Hefty, meaty sobs. The noise triggers my throat to tighten, to hurt. I watch everybody filter inside.