Louisa sighed loudly and shook her head. ‘Fine. You take the piss. I’m going for a shower.’ She slunk off, away from Brian and his sarcasm. He didn’t have a clue about what she’d been through, what she’d done. And despite his mocking, she hoped to God it would stay that way.

Tiff’s mum and dad had done a brilliant job with the order of service; the music, hymns and readings they’d chosen were just right. They screamed ‘Tiff’. Even though she hadn’t been particularly religious, Louisa knew she’d loved feeling part of the church’s activities and had always joined in with the children from the school when they did Harvest festival, Easter and Christmas services. She would’ve been proud to see the turnout. Louisa turned around to take in the congregation – almost the entire village’s population seemed to be packed inside the church.

‘Here you go,’ someone said, pressing a packet of tissues into Louisa’s palm.

‘Oh, thank you.’ She was confused at first, but then realised tears were already cascading down her cheeks. As soon as ‘Amazing Grace’ started playing on the organ, Louisa felt something give. From her position in the pew nearest the east-facing window, she caught a glimpse of the coffin being carried slowly up the path towards the church door. Her chest tightened, her heart feeling as though it too had ceased beating. A wave of anxiety consumed her.

In that moment, Tiff’s death became real. In that moment, Louisa was immobilised by grief, pain and regret. She lowered her eyes as the coffin was brought in by the pallbearers; she wasn’t able to face it now it was in close proximity to her. The sound of her galloping pulse whooshed noisily in her ears, drowning out the music.

Hurry up and be over.

She held her hands together so tightly they turned white. She focused on them, not on her feelings, not on Tiff’s coffin, and not on Tiff’s mum and dad who were walking behind their only daughter. All she had to do was concentrate for another hour and it would be done. Shirley had asked Louisa to read the eulogy but she’d broken down at the mere thought. Realising it would be too much pressure to put on Tiff’s best friend, Shirley had asked if Louisa might write some things about Tiff instead, and ask her other friends to do the same, and she’d give that to the vicar to read.

Louisa had been thankful to be let off the hook. Before the events of the past few weeks, she might’ve had the courage to stand up in front of Tiff’s family and friends and tell everyone how amazing Tiff was – had been. Now, it seemed disingenuous, inappropriate.