Only You: A brand new heartbreaking and uplifting novel about love, loss and redemption by Eva Jordan

Author:Eva Jordan [Jordan, Eva]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books - Women's fiction
Published: 2023-10-08T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 28

‘Do you remember Jules’s funeral?’ Eileen asked, staring at his headstone.

Leora nodded. ‘Surprisingly well. Considering how long ago it was.’

Weather-wise it had been an awful day. Colourless, damp, and windblown, the pavements slick with rain; it looked and felt more like winter than spring. At the entrance to the church mourners huddled, waiting for the hearse to arrive, the smokers cupping their lighters with their hands, intermittently puncturing holes in the rain as tiny puffs of smoke formed an escape route from the gaps in their sombre smiles. When the coffin was carried out Leora let out a silent gasp, grateful for her father’s strong arm around her shoulder, Lonny’s equally strong one around her waist. Jules wasn’t family but it didn’t lessen the pain any, especially knowing it was one of her best friends, whose life had barely begun, lying in the polished casket of oak.

During some of her last conversations with him in the weeks leading up to his death, Jules encouraged Leora not to be angry with Ben. ‘Try and remember the good times,’ he said. He also said he knew, without any doubt whatsoever, that Ben did love her: like her, Jules couldn’t make any sense of what he’d done. However, he also pointed out that time was precious and not to waste it on things that couldn’t be changed. ‘Look at this way,’ he added playfully. ‘At least you got to shag someone you loved. I only ever managed a kiss.’

He didn’t say who it was with, so Leora didn’t ask. ‘I hope it was good?’ she said instead.

Jules had looked at her then, his sunken eyes lighting up in a way she hadn’t seen for a while. ‘The best.’ He grinned.

The pain in Leora’s chest, as she followed the coffin, was crushing, her sobs only muted by what felt like a large plum in her throat. The eulogy, brief but poignant, had been jointly written by Jules’s parents but delivered by the celebrant, and Leora, whose voice was noticeably shaky, somehow managed to read Let Me Go, a short memorial poem by Christina Rossetti:

When I come to the end of the road

And the sun has set for me

I want no rites in a gloom filled room

Why cry for a soul set free?

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