The Dress Read Online Free

sat in the front pew, next to Lily. When she saw Lily fumbling inside her tiny black clutch bag in panic, Sally reached seamlessly into her cavernous Vuitton and emerged with a fresh pack of lavender-scented tissues. Sally’s bag was equipped with everything from sewing kits and hosiery to wet wipes. In that moment, Lily felt such a surge of love for her friend that she felt a lump come to her throat again.
    When the mass ended, Sally stepped aside to let Lily join her parents, as they walked behind Joe’s coffin. Gareth, who was standing at the back of the church, noticed Lily had been crying and wished that he had the right to go and comfort her. Never having been to a funeral before, he had shaved his beard off for the occasion, as a mark of respect. He now realized that was rather a silly thing to do. The suit he had on would have sufficed, lots of men had beards and he felt curiously naked without it. Lily glanced up from her handkerchief and gave him a slightly confused look as if she was trying to figure out who he was. Gareth was mortified. Dramatically altering his appearance before a funeral had clearly been a terrible idea. He left straight after the church so as not to confuse her again.
    Lily found the burial extremely painful. Seeing the box being lowered into the dirty, grey clay hole in the ground and knowing that he was inside it was the worst part. Lily’s good shoes sank into the soft grass, as she clutched her grandmother’s arm and said goodbye.
    Afterwards, there was a reception in St Agnes church hall.
    â€˜My God, so many men, so much bad tailoring,’ Sally said, looking around and grimacing at the crowd of parish mourners.
    â€˜Don’t be such a bloody snob,’ said Lily.
    â€˜Ah,’ Sally said, grabbing a foil tray of sandwiches from a passing church lady, ‘you can put them down here in front of moi, thank you.’
    â€˜Not so snobby when it comes to your food, are you?’
    Sally glowered at Lily. ‘Ah, good, the bitch returns. I was beginning to wonder if she had been softened permanently under that pile of grief. You know, Old Joe propositioned me once?’
    Lily gave a tearful giggle. ‘He didn’t!’
    Sally picked up a sandwich again and stuffed it into her mouth, with a cheeky nod, then said, ‘Actually, no, he didn’t, but it made you laugh. I got to go, babe. I’ve got to pick up half a dozen woeful jumpers from a warehouse in Peckham for a night shoot in town. Will you be OK until tomorrow?’
    â€˜Of course,’ Lily said, even though she wasn’t entirely sure that she would be.
    The funeral crowd started to dissipate. Old Joe had been waked, prayed for and buried; tea and whisky had been drunk in his honour, sandwiches had been eaten, condolences given and now it was all over. He was gone, taking his past with him. Behind the tea urn were a dozen or so framed pictures from various stages of Joe’s life, selected by Lily’s mother. They included several of Lily as a child with her grandfather, but there were none of Joe himself as a boy; the earliest picture was one of his wedding day. Her grandmother had had to dig it out from the album; he had hated having old pictures lying about the place. Joe lived by the mantra, ‘never look back’. Now, as she looked at the photographs, Lily wondered about that and wished she had asked more questions about his past. Seeing her grandmother, Eileen, sitting on her own for the first time that day, Lily went and sat down next to her.
    â€˜You OK, Nan?’
    Despite her sadness, Eileen’s eyes were warm.
    â€˜He went the way he wanted, Lily, no fuss. I’m so sorry you were there when it happened, but I am glad about it too. You were his favourite girl.’
    â€˜You’ll miss him terribly; we all will.’
    â€˜True, but I’m glad he went first. He wouldn’t have managed on his own. Your grandfather hated being alone...’