I didn't have anything to fasten him on with, so I walked slowly, leading my horse and looking back most of the time. Jill walked beside her mother, holding her hand. Lynne had stopped crying, and was just plodding forward. We must have made a strange looking group ... three people leading three horses, only one of which had a burden to carry. I knew it would be useless to ask her if she was OK, so I just paid attention to keeping Paul's body on the horse.I don't know how long it took us to get back to the house. It stopped raining, but the clouds were still thick and black, and I couldn't see the sun. I didn't wear a watch any more, because what time it was really didn't matter much. I worked until the work was done, and then went in the house to eat and read or whatever.Then, when we finally got to the house, Lynne spoke coherently for the first time. Her voice sounded careful and strained."Take him in the house please," she said.I didn't think that was a good idea, but wasn't. ’ She crossed the room and tugged at the gilt handle on the gloss-painted wardrobe door. With a squeal, the door opened and she found herself staring at a tightly packed rail full of her Uncle’s clothes. ‘Found anything?’ Matt stepped past her and reached into the wardrobe. ‘Here, this should do the job.’ He retrieved an enormous beige and brown woolly cardigan and held it up ready for her to slide in an arm. ‘Put this on.’ But she didn’t move. Couldn’t move. The cardigan had been one of Charlie’s favourites. She’d seen him wear it a hundred times. Now he’d never wear it again. He was dead. It was a simple, inescapable, horrifying truth. Who was she trying to kid? He wasn’t on holiday. He wouldn’t be coming back. Ever. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Matt throw the cardigan on the bed. And then, before she had a chance to resist, before she had a chance to protest, he gathered her to him. His arms wrapped around her back, anchoring her so securely it felt as though his whole body.
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