The funeral was quiet, solemn, nothing untoward. The Rector spoke steady, kind words. Arthur was laid beside his parents in the small village churchyard, surrounded by countless generations of the same families who turned out to pay their respects. A pair of buzzards mewled close by on the thermals and Matty could hear a lark high above in the distance. The sun was warm on his shoulders behind him as the cold of the dark earth was on his face from the open grave in front of him. He scattered the first handful of damp soil onto the coffin and the hollow echo rang in his ears as he stood and watched the others who followed his example.
Afterwards, Mrs Beelock put on a high tea in the parlour. Plates of thickly cut ham sandwiches, boiled eggs, the dark rich fruitcake she turned fresh from th
