When the entire group of mourners stood outside on the walkways and on the lawn, Sybil’s casket was loaded into the hearse for the short drive to the cemetery. The snow had stopped and the midday sun shone the way winter sun does, bestowing a sharp bright edge to each crystal that lay beneath its rays.

Addie walked over to join the company. As the hearse started up, she thought of Hazzley’s chant, and her hand reached for her collar and she held on tightly.

The others did the same: Hazzley and Tom and Gwen and Allam and Chiyo and Cass and Rice. They all held on to their necklines or collars or scarves or whatever they wore at their throats. They stood this way in their own special line until the hearse passed them by. And then they began to walk to the cemetery, with Addie at the centre. They were all present for the final farewell at the grave. They were all prepared to take the next step forward into life.

May

The Wedding

Friday morning, Tom pulled into the roundabout at the Haven and saw that Dave was waiting at the door. He hadn’t seen him for a couple of months. Today’s trip to Greenley was a follow-up appointment; no more treatments for the time being.

“I’m early,” Dave said, and slid into the passenger seat. “I feel fit enough to run all the way.”

“You’ve regained some of the weight you lost,” said Tom. “That’s good. The treatments must have done the job they were supposed to do over all those months. That couldn’t have been easy.”

“Nope. And I tried not to complain. But sometimes we have to go through—what the hell—we have to go through stuff. Bad stuff to get to the good. To get back to the good, I should say. Life has been good to me over the long reach.”

“I’d have to say the same,” said Tom. “Over the long reach.”

“I’ll be facing a lotta follow-up, too, for a while. The appointments will taper off gradually. I’m in competent hands, all in all. And glad to be alive.”

“I’ll second that.”

“Tomorrow,” Dave went on, “we’re having a bit of a celebration, a Saturday afternoon wedding—two inmates from the top floor. Doesn’t happen often around here, as you can imagine. We usually hear about the other kind of ceremony, which I won’t mention because I don’t want to jinx the couple. The wedding will take place in the party room, and we’re all invited. Guy’s name is Doug. We call him Doug the Thug—I guess he really was a bit of a thug back in the day. He’s old now; he’s left his thuggery behind.”

Dave and Tom were both chuckling.

“Management said they’d kick in a special lunch instead of the usual fare. Everybody’s pretty pumped about having a wedding at the place,” Dave said. “You can stop in as my guest, if you like.”