8
EBONY
Felicity Browning’s shoes crippled Ebony, but she struggled through. She wouldn’t wear anything so impractical, but Felicity did, and if she wanted to attend her own funeral, she had to look like someone else.
The taxi pulled up to the curb a couple of hundred metres from the entrance to the funeral parlour. She’d planned her arrival to be five minutes after the scheduled starting time, so she could slip in unnoticed, but mourners were still milling outside. The service had not started on time.
‘Keep the meter running,’ Ebony said to the driver. ‘I’m not getting out just yet.’
Fifteen minutes passed with the meter ticking over dollars as if they were pieces of confetti at a wedding. When the last mourner moved into the little chapel, Ebony handed the driver two fifty-dollar no
