1. Julie

I sat on the edge of the bath, blocking out the chaos outside. I needed space. I was not ready for this. Then again, are you ever ready to bury your mother?

I dabbed my eyes with another lump of toilet paper, rubbing off the make-up I had applied five times.

My new funeral shoes were already pinching my toes. I should never have let Sophie talk me into buying them. They were too high. My younger sister was all about suffering for fashion, but at forty-nine years of age I craved comfort and lived in trainers or flats.

Louise had told me which of my black dresses was appropriate for our mother’s funeral. As the eldest, Louise always seemed to know what to do in every circumstance, so we all just obeyed her. She was smarter than the rest of us put together and impossible to argue with, so we tended simply to follow her directions.

I could hear the triplets slagging each other and Harry shouting at them to ‘bloody well behave today’.

Then Tom piped up. ‘Come on, guys, it’s a really sad day for Mum. She loved Granny.’

Even at just turned eleven years old, my ‘baby’, Tom, was still sweet and compliant. I knew his hormones would kick in soon and my mere existence would become mortifying to him, so I cherished him all the more.

To be fair, the triplets had tried to be sympathetic about Mum dying. Liam had hugged me for the first time in two years, which, at fifteen, was a big deal for him. Luke had made me a cup of coffee using unblended coffee beans that I’d almost choked on, but it was a sweet gesture. Leo had tried to distract me by telling me all of the messing they had got up to in school without getting caught, which only served to raise my anxiety levels through the roof: I’m permanently convinced they’re going to be expelled from their posh school.

Harry was doing his best to be kind, of course, but his fussing about was getting on my nerves.

The only people who totally understood how I was feeling were my sisters and my brother. I just wanted to be with them and Dad. Only we five could understand the pain of losing Mum so quickly.

One minute she was fine, then she had a pain in her back, then she was having chemo, then she died. Seven weeks from the day she went to see her GP to the day she died. It felt like any minute we’d be called back to the hospital and told it was a crazy, stupid mistake and Mum would be standing there, smiling, herself again.

I pressed my hands against my eyes to steady my thoughts. I kept going off on these wild tangents, then having to come back to the awful truth. It hurt like hell every time. We were all reeling from shock as much as from grief. In fact, I wasn’t even sure if the grief had arrived yet. I was cold and numb inside but I couldn’t tell where shock ended and grief began.

My phone beeped. It was Sophie, posting on our siblings WhatsApp group.

Jack and Jess driving me nuts. How u all?

Gavin typed: Struggling. Not sure I’ll be able to read the prayer.

Louise typed: Get it together, we need to be strong for Dad and give Mum the funeral she deserves. I’ve finished my eulogy. See you all at Dad’s in 20 mins. DO NOT BE LATE!!

I knew that was aimed at me. Time-keeping was not my strong point and Louise was like a Swiss watch – always, without fail, on time.

See you there , I typed. It was important to keep her calm and not bring her wrath upon me. Not today, I couldn’t handle it.

Harry knocked gently on the bathroom door. ‘Julie, are you ready?’

I stood up and opened the door. There in front of me were Harry and the four boys all dressed in smart clothes. A lump formed in my throat and I welled up.

‘You look so nice,’ I sobbed.

‘Dad!’ Liam hissed. ‘You said she’d be happy to see us dressed in these loser clothes.’

‘I’m putting on my tracksuit.’ Leo turned to go.

‘No!’ I cried out. ‘I’m happy – these are happy tears. I love that you all dressed up smartly.’

‘Jeez, Mum, it’s hard to tell between happy and sad tears. How are we supposed to know which is which?’ Luke wanted to know. ‘Your eyes are all puffy and red, and you look sad.’

‘I am sad, love, but I also appreciate you getting dressed up. I know you hate wearing shirts and chinos and lace-up shoes, but it’s important to me.’

‘Well, we did it for Granny too. She always said we dressed like hobos,’ Leo reminded me.

Mum had been hard on the triplets. I wish they’d seen more of the sweet, loving side she’d shown to Jess, and especially to Clara. She hadn’t really known how to connect with my boys. They’d never had the closeness their female cousins had enjoyed with my mother.

‘Do I look nice, Mum?’ Tom eagerly awaited approval.

‘You always look like an angel,’ I said.

The triplets made vomiting noises.

Harry put his arm around me. ‘Let’s go while they’re still relatively calm. I’ll drop you off at your dad’s and take the boys straight to the church.’

I rested my head on his shoulder. ‘Thanks.’

‘Today will be exhausting. It’s awful for you, Julie. I’m here for you, darling.’

‘I just can’t believe it, Harry.’ I welled up again.

‘It was very quick, which makes it even harder to take it in. Anne was such an integral part of the family. It’ll be a big adjustment for you all.’

He was right. Mum was the glue that had held us all together. What were we going to do without her?

Gavin opened the door before I’d even rung the bell.

‘Help!’ he whispered.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Louise is doing my head in. She keeps bossing me and Dad around and snapping at Sophie.’

‘It’s just her way of processing grief. She’s devastated too.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘She’s hiding it well.’

I stepped into the kitchen and took in the scene. Sophie was sitting down with her head back, holding a tissue against each eye to stop the tears ruining her make-up. Dad was leaning against the countertop, looking shattered. Louise was typing furiously into her phone.

‘Hi.’

‘You’re late,’ Louise informed me.

I glanced at the clock. I was two minutes late.

‘Told you,’ Gavin muttered.

Ignoring her, I turned to Dad and hugged him. ‘How are you?’

‘Ah, sure, as well as can be expected.’

‘We’re all here for you, Dad.’ I kissed his cheek.

‘Thanks, love.’ He patted my shoulder.

Louise sighed impatiently and marched out to the front door. ‘The undertakers should be here by now,’ she huffed.

Dad shook his head. ‘She has the poor undertakers tormented.’

I felt Louise was getting a hard time and it was, as it always has been, my job to defend her.

‘Every family needs an organizer,’ I said.

‘Organizer?’ Sophie looked up from reapplying her concealer. ‘She’s like a bloody sergeant major. She ripped my head off when I told her she had a ladder in her tights, even though I had a spare pair in my bag, which I gave her.’

‘Just ignore her, she’s upset.’

‘So am I, Julie!’ Sophie said. ‘I was closer to Mum than she ever was. And poor Jess is distraught. She was really close to Mum too.’

It wasn’t a very nice thing to say, but it was true. Sophie and Mum had always had a tight bond. But, then, in the last few years Mum and Louise had also formed a strong connection. Mum had been amazing with Clara. She was so patient and loving with her. She had become an expert on autism and had helped Louise so much with her young daughter. For the first time in her independent life, Louise had actually leaned on Mum and accepted help from her. It had been lovely to watch them find each other in that way.

I had been close to Mum too. She always called me her ‘easy child’. But things had changed after the triplets were born. She stopped calling in to see me. She couldn’t handle the boys: they were too boisterous for her. She wanted to sit down over a cup of tea and chat to me, but I could never take my eye off them because, if I did, mayhem would ensue. Mum made it clear that I was welcome to call in to see her on my own, or with Tom. She liked Tom because he was calm. The triplets always broke and destroyed things when they were in their house, so Mum and Dad had stopped asking us to call in. It was hurtful at first, but as Louise pointed out, Mum had raised four kids and she was older now and just wasn’t able for my crazy boys. ‘No one is able for them, Julie. They’re out of control,’ my direct sister had told me.

That’s why my nieces, Jess and Clara, were distraught but my boys weren’t feeling it as deeply. They were a little upset, but they hadn’t had a close relationship with their grandmother in the same way as Jess and Clara, so they weren’t hit as hard by her death. I couldn’t tell anyone, but it actually added to my own grief. I wished she’d known them better, I wished she’d tried harder with them. But, to be fair, she’d been busy helping out with Jess after Sophie and Jack broke up and then with Clara after her diagnosis. Sometimes, if I’m being honest, I resented it. Mum had invested so much time and effort into her relationships with the girls and very little into my boys. It stung.

I pushed the negative thoughts out of my head. She had been a great mother and a good granny.

‘About time,’ we heard Louise snap, as she led the undertakers into the living room where the coffin was laid out.

Dad said a final prayer over the closed coffin. Mum had told us to ‘nail my coffin shut and put a gorgeous photo of me on top’.

We all placed a hand on the coffin while Dad prayed. His voice broke at the ‘Amen’ and we all wiped tears from our eyes.

‘Goodbye, Anne, you were my one true love. We drove each other mad at times but we were as close as a couple could be and I loved you from the day I met you.’

‘Goodbye, Mum,’ Sophie sobbed.

‘Send us a sign you’re okay, if you can,’ Gavin said.

Louise rolled her eyes at me and made a face, which made me smile and saved me from giving in to my grief and bawling all over the coffin.

My elder sister and I stood on either side of Dad, linking his arms, holding him up as he said his final farewell.

‘At least you’re out of pain now, Anne. See you on the other side,’ he whispered.

My throat was raw from pressing down my emotions, but I had to be strong for Dad.

We stood in silence as the men, all dressed in black with suitably sombre expressions, carefully manoeuvred the coffin, my mother lying inside, out of the front door and into the hearse.

‘The last time she’ll ever be here,’ Dad said softly.

I gave in and let the tears flow as my lovely mother left her home and her family for the last time.

Louise herded us all into the big black funeral car. I’d seen people driving by in these vehicles many times and wondered who had died and what their story was. Now here we were, our own diminished, grieving family.

Louise and Dad sat behind the driver, Sophie and I in the next row, and Gavin was squashed into the back seat.

‘As usual, I get crushed down the back,’ he grumbled. ‘In the old days the only boy was treated with respect.’

‘Thankfully, we’ve moved out of the dark ages. Now shut up and get in,’ Louise ordered.

Sophie fixed my tear-streaked face yet again from her large make-up bag – she must have had fifty products in there. She never left home without it.

While my younger sister tried her best to make me look less awful, Louise ran through the running order of the mass for the hundredth time.

‘I hope I don’t blubber when I’m doing my reading,’ Sophie whispered.

‘Me too,’ I whispered back.

‘Julie!’ Louise barked, from the front of the car.

‘What?’ I said, flinching at her tone.

‘Do the boys know exactly what they’re doing, when to go up and which bidding prayer they each have to read?’

‘Yes, Louise.’

It was only a white lie. I wasn’t sure who was supposed to read which. I’d given Liam the longest one because he was the most confident. Tom had the shortest because he was only eleven, and the other two got the rest. Harry had printed out Louise’s detailed instructions and said he would make sure they went up at the right time. There was no way I could do it. Since Mum’s death three days ago, I hadn’t slept. My brain was addled and I was finding it hard to process information. I felt as if I was swimming underwater: sounds were muffled and loud noises made me jump out of my skin. It was a strange combination of being half deaf, but also hyper-alert. Harry had assured me it was a symptom of the shock of losing Mum so quickly.

Thank God Louise had taken the reins and arranged everything because neither Sophie nor Gavin nor I would have done a good job. Poor Dad just wandered around the house like a lost puppy, picking things up and putting them down. We all needed Louise, bossy or not. She was like a machine. While we were all reeling from shock and sobbing into tissues, my super-human older sister had organized the readings, music, priest, organist, undertakers, coffin, hearse, funeral cars, flowers and the funeral booklets. She’d chosen a photo of Mum to put on the front of the booklet that I didn’t particularly like. Mum looked very serious in it. I would have preferred one of her smiling – she had a great smile – but I certainly wasn’t going to mention that after all Louise’s hard work. I also valued my life, and I was afraid I might end up in the coffin with Mum if I criticized anything.

‘We’re here,’ Louise announced, as if we hadn’t noticed the church, the hearse and the crowds of people streaming inside to pay their respects.

Sophie squeezed my hand. We climbed out and stood behind the coffin, waiting for the funeral singer to start. It was like a wedding – music, friends and family, good clothes and shoes on – but instead of a bride, we had a corpse.

My shoes were now causing me severe pain. My two little toes were being crushed into oblivion. I was trying to breathe through the throbbing when I felt a poke in the back. I turned to see Marion. ‘Hey there.’ I gave her a watery smile.

‘Hey, yourself. You look like crap.’ She hugged me tightly.

‘Cheers, Marion.’

‘I’m so sorry for your loss. I know your mum never liked me, but still, she liked you, which is what matters.’

‘Thanks.’ I grinned at my old neighbour and friend. Marion was never one to mince her words.

‘Good luck. Funerals are a fucking nightmare. Throngs of old farts queuing up to tell you boring stories about your dead parent. All they really want is to be invited to the free lunch where they will criticize everything about the funeral and your family while stuffing their faces and throwing back the free wine.’

‘That’s just not true, we’ve heard some lovely stories about Mum from her friends,’ Sophie hissed. Never a fan of Marion, she looked positively allergic to her right now.

Marion shrugged. ‘I’ll go in before I insult anyone else with my big mouth.’

‘Probably for the best.’ I urged her inside before she caused a scene.

The side door of the church opened and my stepdaughter, Christelle, came out with Clara, who rushed over to her mother.

‘What’s wrong, darling?’ Louise’s face melted on seeing her daughter.

‘I want to be with you, Mummy. I know you’re sad about Granny and I’m sad about Granny. I want to be beside you.’

Christelle put up her hands. ‘I tried to get her to stay with me but she insisted and she was getting wound up – her breathing was getting heavy.’

We all knew that hand flapping or a change in Clara’s breathing was the precursor to a meltdown. It was a warning sign that meant red alert. Christelle was so sweet with her.

‘It’s okay, Christelle, thanks. Clara can stay with me.’ Louise held her daughter’s hand, but Clara pulled it away.

‘No, Mummy. Your hand’s hot and wet.’

Louise let go immediately and placed her hand gently on her nine-year-old’s shoulder. ‘Is that okay?’ she asked.

Clara nodded.

Christelle shuffled over to me. ‘In other news, Leo has split his pants at the back so he can’t do the bidding prayer, but don’t worry, I’ll do it instead.’

I loved my stepdaughter even more than usual at that moment. I mouthed, ‘Thank you,’ as she winked and disappeared back into the church.

‘I’ll walk with Dad and Clara, then you and Sophie, and Gavin at the back,’ Louise barked.

‘The loser on his own, again,’ Gavin grumbled.

Once Louise’s back was turned, Sophie and I linked arms with our younger brother and squashed him between us.

We all walked slowly up the aisle behind our mother’s coffin as a soloist sang ‘The Soft Goodbye’. It was beautiful and haunting.

My heart broke as I finally accepted that Mum was gone, that there had been no terrible mistake, that this was goodbye. And I knew I’d never be quite the same again.