12
Friday, 19 July
It was a cold, overcast morning. Perfect weather for a funeral.
Louis had asked him to be one of the pall-bearers, and now, with the weight of the coffin on his right shoulder, he wished he’d said no. At least he had a front-row seat to the goings on and could watch both Louis and Natalie closely throughout the funeral. There were a total of ten people attending the funeral. The church was icy, with little body heat generated by the congregation; it was no surprise when he saw his own breath puffing out of his mouth every time he exhaled. If he hadn’t already heard it from other sources, he would have the impression, from the low turnout, that Marietta Gouws was not a well-loved woman. Louis had asked four of the men he worked with to be pall-bearers. Louis, Nico and
