at 5pm Tuesday 5th June. Funeral after 11.30 Mass Wednesday 6th June. Family flowers only. Donations to Focus Point.” “What extended family?” Rose asked. Mel shrugged, tears in her eyes. “It sounds good.” “Scribble it out.” Mel scribbled the line out with a black pen. It reminded her of colouring when she was a girl. She always coloured with pen or pencil, the sound of the ink or scrape of the sharpened pencil completing the picture made her feel safe. “Why are you writing his Death Notice on the back of the cereal box?” “I had the last of the Rice Crispies yesterday and this just goes into the recycle bin, okay?” Rose pulled her wraparound cream cardigan tighter and took a flowery hankie from its sleeve. She dabbed the corners of her eyes and sniffed. “It’s just so, so undignified.” “What’s undignified is keeping the face cloth we washed father with because it was your favourite one.” “It is.” “I know but Jesus, Rose, you can’t hang onto that.” Rose pursed her lips. “Are you going to ring The Independent or shall I?” “I’ll do it.” “I’ll get the food for tomorrow. So. Ham. Bread. Milk. Extra tea bags. Cheese. Some cakes. Anything else?” “No, that’s it I think. Don’t get much, though.” Rose nodded, stuffing the hanky back up her sleeve. “Doctor Walsh said he’d come,” she said quietly. “That’s nice of him.” “Yes.” Her voice was a whisper. “And Mary will be there.” Tuesday The sisters ate breakfast in silence. They’d dressed their father in his best suit, a dove grey with a shimmer to it and a knitted red tie. He would have been happy. Ben from the undertakers had called around to help them prepare for the removal that evening. He smiled saying he was
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