I sat in the church throughout most of Caz’s mum’s funeral in a state of abject terror, imagining how it would be for Daz, for my mum, for Woody, if I weren’t around any more. It also brought back memories of Dad’s funeral. I hadn’t really known Caz’s mum, and hadn’t liked what I had seen of her. She’d always been rude and aggressive the few times we’d met. Plus, I had some small idea of how miserable Caz’s life had been, just from the way she seemed so starved of affection and lapped up the love in my house. The love I took so much for granted. So the sight of the coffin had me in a puddle, and the service itself left me feeling incredibly sad. By the time Caz had let rip about the misery of her childhood, I was a blubbering mess. Daz squeezed my hand tightly, instinctively understanding how I felt. Beside me, I also was aware of Sarah sobbing quietly, and I noticed Beth wipe a tear away; it was as if we’d all had a reminder of how hard Caz’s life had been and of how much she needed us.
