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everything! I was just talking to her teacher. She reckons she was set for Oxford or Cambridge for certain . . .’
    Kite’s gut twisted as hot acid seemed to fill the well from which her tears should have drawn. The thought of all these people gathering to bury Dawn felt so wrong, like a nightmare that
she’d got herself stuck inside.
    In the pew in front of her stood a tall man in a long black coat. He had thick greying hair, and beside him stood a boy with a messy mane of his own. It took Kite a while to place them. Of
course! They were from Dawn’s orchestra: the conductor and the saxophonist Kite had teased Dawn about. The man had his arm wrapped around the boy in a comforting gesture. Next to them stood a
tall girl wearing a short black skirt, ballet pumps and a cream long-sleeved top. As she turned in profile Kite recognized her too – this was Esme from the Brahms concert. Her shiny blonde
hair shone like ripe wheat as she now walked to the front of the church with her oboe. It looked somehow swankier than Dawn’s. The wood was dark and rich and the silver keys gleamed.
    Kite watched her take a deep breath and begin to play with a confidence she had never seen in Dawn. The notes sang out in the echoey church. Kite closed her eyes and listened. She understood
exactly why Dawn had been made the principal in her orchestra. There was nothing technically wrong with Esme’s playing, no false notes, and the music sounded smooth and sweet. But when Dawn
played there was a raw truth that made you stop and listen. Now, hearing Esme, Kite understood that Dawn had spoken everything that was in her heart through her music. It
was
her way of
speaking. As she listened she was amazed to see that the boy who stood in front of her was racked with sobs.
    The fact that all these people had cared so much for Dawn made what she had done even more difficult to fathom. There was nothing that Hazel and Jimmy would not have done to help her ‘get
on in the world’. Kite had been touched by the way they talked of ‘the world’, as if it was somewhere they had no place in but somehow, miracle of miracles, they’d had a
daughter who
was
worthy. Or could have been. Watching the boy wipe his tears away made Kite feel like opening the lid of the coffin, grabbing hold of Dawn’s shoulders and shaking her
alive. ‘Look how loved you are!’ she wanted to scream.
    I should have spoken, Kite thought as she watched Esme return to her seat beside the grief-stricken boy.
    When Jimmy had called round to ask if she would like to say a few words at Dawn’s funeral she’d said that she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to.
    ‘Don’t you worry,’ he’d said. ‘I’m not sure I’ll be able to speak myself, and Hazel can’t take the pressure of it. You were a great friend to
Dawn. That’s better than words,’ he’d told her as he left, and this phrase had come back to haunt her. She stared at Dawn’s coffin. How could I have been a great friend if
you felt so awful that you took your own life and I didn’t even know how bad you were feeling?
    Jimmy stood up in his smart suit, the one she’d seen him wearing only once, a few weeks ago, when they’d passed on the stairs.
    ‘On my way to a job interview. Wish me luck, Kite! If I get it, it’ll be the end of shift work for me!’ he’d said, unbuttoning his jacket. ‘Shows how often I wear
this. It only gets an airing at weddings and funerals. Think I might have put on a few pounds since I last wore it,’ he’d joked, tapping his round tummy.
    As Jimmy stood at the front of the chapel, clasping his speech, she noticed that the suit jacket looked too big for him, as if he had stepped into someone else’s clothes. His whole frame
seemed to have shrunk.
    Ruby reached into her handbag for tissues. Her hands looked small too, without their usual nail extensions and bright polish. Kite glanced up at Ruby’s face. She wore no make-up, giving
herself over to the fact that