‘We’re not donning sackcloth and ashes for the next week or even for a day. Life must go on.’
‘But it doesn’t have to go on straight away,’ I blurted out.
‘I’m staying in my black,’ my mother said. She went to the sideboard, opened the bottle of gin, and poured a generous amount into her glass.
That night I couldn’t sleep. I thrashed around in my bed, trying not to think about Elise in that small brown box. It seemed unreal that Elise lay inside it.
‘Your mother shouldn’t smoke at a funeral. It’s not respectful,’ Jamilla suddenly said.
‘Shut up. You don’t know anything. What’s wrong with your eyelashes?’
Jamilla suddenly leaned over from her bed across the room. ‘I’m sorry about the smoking thing. I’d smoke too if it helped.’
‘It’s all right. Go to sleep,’ I said.
‘I can’t sleep. I
