Pretty Please Don't Pinch Me

68. The Funeral

I cannot express to you how much it means for you to please vote for my story. It takes less than a second, and it really helps my book to get recognised for the hundreds of hours I've put into writing it. Thank you for absolutely everything ♡

Twitter: WordsWithGem 
Snapchat: gemma.allan
Instagram: gemma.allan 

It has been almost two days since I've been home. Fitting back into my everyday routine has been surprisingly easier than expected. My main priority is being there for Mum. I can only imagine what she is going through right now. Even though they weren't on good terms, I believe there was a part of her that almost expected that things would sort themselves out; only it's too late for that now.

She spends most of her time in her room with the shades drawn, silently crying. Thankfully no one is asking about Harry. This has become the main focus. Anything else just seems trivial and pales in comparison to death. Though doesn't everything?

I carry a steaming mug of chamomile tea into her bedroom, and place it on her side table.

"Thanks pet," she says, trying to put on a brave face.

"You'll be okay," I respond – resorting to family traditions.

"I know. How are things with you? I'm sorry I haven't been there, but you didn't have to come home," she worries.

"No Mum, I did. And things are the same," I quickly lie.

"Okay dear," she says whilst yawning and I take it as my cue to leave.

I close the door slowly behind me, trying to make as little noise as possible.

"How is she?" and I get a massive fright when I see Marnie standing behind me.

I hold onto my heart as I recover, before replying.

"She's okay. She just needs some rest," and she nods.

"I hope she'll be okay for the funeral tomorrow," she adds.

"No one expects her to be," I say, and she again, nods.

"Will Harry be here for the funeral?" she asks me, catching me off guard.

"No," I state solidly. "He won't," ceasing the subject matter.

I think back to the one and only text message he has sent me since leaving England.

"I hope that you're okay. Send your mother my deepest sympathies. H."

I don't really know what I expected when his name showed up on my phone, but it warms me to hear that his respect for my family was legitimate.

Having Scarlett is a godsend, though she always seems to be on her phone, which is somewhat refreshing. As she is the only person who knows about the break up, I feel her looking at me with those sympathetic eyes, and even when I'm not thinking about him, that look makes me think about him and I end up feeling even worse.

I return to the kitchen, and decide to make myself a tea when I spot Dad sitting at the table reading the paper in tracksuit pants and a t-shirt.

"Dad, didn't you go to work today," I say, looking at my wristwatch. "You never miss work."

And not to mention never dressed this casually.

"It's okay kiddo. A lot of this stuff I can do from home. Your Mum needs us."

I go over and give him a hug.

"By the way, something came for you while you were in England," he informs me. "It's in my office when you're ready."