Rain fell in short bursts. Mourners entered the small chapel, black umbrellas being held by a few. Others allowed the light drizzle to dampen their heads. Murphy and Rossi kept a distance from the few family members and friends that were slowly filing past them. Murphy watched as Rob’s father was led to the front by another family member. ‘His dad looks ill,’ Rossi said behind a gloved hand to Murphy. ‘His mum died a few years back. Apparently the father didn’t take it so well. He’s not been well for some time. They weren’t really on speaking terms since his mum died,’ Murphy replied. ‘Are you sure you want to stay?’ Rossi asked, soft eyes tracking his. ‘Yes,’ Murphy said firmly. Rossi nodded once, then pointed to a couple of chairs on the back row. They sat down, listened to the eulogies, scanning the small gathering for anyone who didn’t fit. Murphy was doing okay until they played the final song. ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ was piped in through the speakers, a standard at so many funerals in the North West.
