The vicar saved the situation and said in a quiet voice, “I understand.” He smiled reassuringly at Matylda but she didn’t see the gesture. He continued, “Let us all stand to sing the first hymn.” Tomas helped his mother to her feet and held the sheet for them both, but his hand shook. He tried to focus on the words but neither his eyes nor throat were going to allow him to sing. A few made the effort and Tomas heard his grandfather’s flat tones, above the sorry mumblings of the congregation.

A single tear from his mother dropped onto his thumb, it sat for a moment before running off onto the floor. The hymn ended and they sat while the vicar spoke words of comfort, few heard. Tomas felt his mother’s weight sag against his shoulder as her energy failed, drained by her efforts to keep it together.

He looked up and caught a glimpse of pale blue through a small window. It was the first appearance of the sky after days of heavy, grey clouds that had dampened everyone’s spirits. He thought of Sky. If ever he needed her, it was now, but it had been weeks since he’d seen her. Never in all the years of their ethereal relationship, had she failed to show for this long.

Beside him, his mother shuffled forward on the pew to stand. Oh great, another hymn. Just then, a shaft of sunlight broke through and shone on Tomas. His heart lifted, before realizing the beam was empty, she wasn’t there.

“What has happened to your once great country?” Tomas exchanged a glance with his mother as Granddad launched into his usual tirade. “Just look at the state of this graveyard.” He jabbed his stick towards a wall covered with fresh graffiti. “There are heroes buried here. Heroes! I should know. I fought with them,” he stopped and waved his stick up at the sky, “up there, in the clouds.” The old man straightened his spine, and for a moment, looked much less than his ninety odd years. His voice boomed, “And just when they thought we were dead and buried… ha! We gave them a bloody nose!” He lowered his stick, exhausted by his outburst, aging rapidly. His sad eyes looked at the headstones and he softened his voice, almost whispering, “They deserve better, someone should look after them.” He stooped to remove a plastic bag caught on one of the graves but got stuck half way.

“Careful Dad, let Tom get it.” Matylda moved quickly to help her father back up.

Granddad removed a glove and touched the cold stone. “I’ll be joining you soon my English brother. We’ll fly again together, just you see.”