Excerpt: The Collection

Bonnie felt as if she were walking to her own execution as she made her way to the front of the crematorium. She had her prepared speech in her hand, and she unfolded it, but the words all seemed to blur together - then she realised that her eyes were filled with tears once more. Wiping them on her sleeve, she looked at the piece of paper again, and began to speak.

"Thank you all for being here today," she began. "Daniel's life may have been cut short when he was very young, but one thing that can always be said is that he was never short of true friends ..."

Bonnie looked out at the faces, all staring back at her, not daring to stir. Her mother was smiling at her, and Daniel's mother was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Most of Daniel's friends were watching her with expressions that were hard to define. But despite what she had just read out, how many of them were really his friends? How many of these people would have come to Daniel's aid in a crisis, and how many would cry for him tonight? Suddenly, unbidden, anger bubbled up inside Bonnie, making her feel hot. She coughed, and then crumpled up the piece of paper that she was holding in her hand.

"I'm not going to do that speech," she said defiantly. "Daniel wouldn't have wanted it. He wouldn't have wanted me to be standing here today and spouting a load of platitudes. He'd have wanted me to tell the truth. So here it is.

Daniel shouldn't have died. He was too young, much too young. I can't even comfort myself by imagining that he's a peace, because I know he isn't anywhere. His life was ended violently, and he died a painful death. Death is brutal. Death is cruel. Death takes no prisoners. I'll never be the same again - sometimes I think I'll never be happy again. My husband was taken from me by a freak accident. If it had been a long illness, I might have had some time to prepare for this searing agony, but I never had that luxury. All I have now is empty words and small gestures. Daniel's broken body is lying over there in that coffin, but we're not supposed to think about that, are we? We're supposed to ignore the cruelty and violence of death, in favour of a buffet table and some pretty flowers. It's all been sanitised."

By now, Bonnie's eyes were wild, and tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she didn't even notice them. Several people sitting in the pews were whispering to each other, and Bonnie's parents were looking worried. Kate looked as if she wished she could run away.

Bonnie hadn't finished yet. "I don't want your platitudes," she said. "I don't want your simpering sympathy. I want my husband back, but he's never coming back, never, ever again. And whenever that hits me, it feels as if my guts have been ripped out with a rusty carving knife. I don't want this funeral. I don't want the reception. At the moment, all I want is to die too. So I hope you'll forgive me, but I just can't be here any more."

Bonnie didn't even glance back as she ran down the aisle and out of the crematorium. She heard several people talking anxiously, and a couple of people calling her name, but she didn't listen. She just kept running.