Sixteen
Harry sat in the chapel at the crematorium, along with the small group of mourners that had gathered to farewell Kieran and Sean Moore.
There didn’t appear to be too many family members, and there were only about twenty friends and associates.
He could see Sean’s widow, sitting next to a man he didn’t recognise, who looked like he’d been drained of all signs of life. Next to them sat Terry and Helen. Terry kept fidgeting with his hands and looking at the coffins, while Helen sat immobilised, as if she’d been pumped full of sedatives. They’d been a depressing sight when they’d entered the chapel, with Terry holding onto Helen and directing her to her seat.
God, it must be awful not knowing if your son was going to come home or not, or wondering if he would be permanently scarred
