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Back The Chalet Save as PDF
Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for The Chalet
  3. Dedication
  4. PART ONE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. PART TWO
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. PART THREE
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. Epilogue
  71. Acknowledgements
  72. Keep Reading …
  73. Prologue
  74. About the Author
  75. About the Publisher

My head is fuzzy from lack of food and sleep, and these questions are beyond me. Plus, if I’m honest, I don’t care. Will isn’t going to know anything about it and my parents aren’t around any more, so I don’t understand who we’re actually doing this for. Don’t they say that funerals are for the living rather than the dead? And as it’s just me left, it seems like a lot of effort for no reason. But Millie is being very sweet about it all so I don’t feel I can say that without showing myself as the callous bastard I arguably am. Plus she really is very pretty and now that I’m starting to feel better and no one else is here, I wonder if I might be in with a chance.

‘Um … I’m not sure. It was all a very long time ago,’ I venture. And if Will had lived he probably would have liked very different things by now hangs unsaid in the air.

‘You must remember some bands he liked, surely?’ she presses.

‘He had pretty shit taste in music, as far as I remember. He liked some of that eighties electronic stuff.’

She nods. ‘I see. Maybe not so suitable for a funeral.’

Suddenly I think of something which might appease her. ‘Oh! I know. He liked REM. He was rather middle of the road like that.’

‘OK. Any particular song?’

For God’s sake. I appreciate her concern but can’t she leave it now? I’m not exactly on top form and I could do without this. I take a sip of my soup. It is scorching hot and delicious. ‘I don’t remember. I think he liked them all,’ I say, hoping she’ll leave it at that.

She smiles. ‘No problem. Perhaps we can stream some and see if any ring any bells?’

I look at her. She is gorgeous, but I am tired. ‘No, that’s OK. You choose. I don’t think he’d mind which one.’

She gets her iPad anyway and we listen through REM’s greatest hits. In the end we settle on ‘Everybody Hurts’ and a Charlotte Brontë poem which Millie finds in a list of readings suitable for people who died young. What a thing to compile. Honestly, you can find anything on the internet these days.

The only funeral poem I could think of was that ‘Stop the Clocks’ one from Four Weddings and a Funeral, but when I actually read the words, they didn’t seem right at all. Will wasn’t alive long enough to be anyone’s everything and it strikes me that I am probably one of only a few people who remember him much by now.