April felt sorry for Jason’s mum, but she couldn’t give her what she wanted, not today. ‘I can’t. I’m going to see Tara,’ she replied. It was Wednesday, which meant half-day closing at the shop and hopefully Tara hadn’t made plans that couldn’t accommodate a runaway.

Trying not to show her disappointment, her mum said, ‘We’ve said we’ll join them at the cemetery before going for a meal. Could you at least meet them there? You wouldn’t have to stay long. Please, April.’

April had yet to decide if she would visit Jason’s grave, but she supposed going as a group and reflecting their pain rather than attempting to define her own was a compromise she could make. ‘You’re right, I should go,’ she said. ‘Just don’t expect too much from me, Mum.’

‘We’ll follow your lead,’ she said.

Jason’s parents were waiting outside the cemetery when April arrived with her mum and dad, and after the trembling embraces, they all held back for April to lead their sad little procession.

April felt numb inside and her feet dragged across the damp grass as they neared Jason’s grave. Someone squeezed her arm to remind her that she wasn’t alone, but it offered no comfort. She was alone. She didn’t share their sorrow, she wouldn’t allow it, even as she leant forward and touched the name etched into the marble. It was as cold as she expected.

Sue knelt down to replace the flowers on her son’s grave with a new spray of lilies, and Jason’s dad had to help her up again. April’s parents had brought a wreath too and sweet scents briefly masked the smell of rotting earth.

‘Do you want to do it?’ her mum asked, offering April the wreath.

April took a step back and shook her head. She told herself not give in to the tears threatening to spill, or the bile that churned her stomach. She bent her head and encouraged the others to join her in a moment of quiet reflection, but when she looked up again, Sue began to speak.

‘I remember one Mother’s Day when Jason was about seven, he gave me the biggest bunch of tulips and daffodils. I knew straight away he’d sneaked into Mrs Johnson’s garden two doors down and I didn’t know whether to be pleased or horrified. I sent him around later to give her an apology and a box of chocolates.’

‘He brought me flowers the first time I met him,’ April’s mum added. ‘I’m pretty sure they were from a florist though.’

There were awkward smiles and suddenly everyone wanted to reminisce, everyone except April. They talked about school days and holidays, weddings and job interviews, and when the anecdotes dried up, April realised they were waiting for her.