𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐒 two years ago, my life changed forever. All it took was one night to alter the rest of my life. I wasn't sure about a lot of things however, there are two things that I was absolutely certain on: what I wanted to wear and who...
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It's been weeks. She's wasting away. The time is coming. We're looking over funeral plans in the kitchen and every time someone speaks, I die just that bit more.
"And the coffin?" The funeral director takes a sip of her English tea.
"Um," my Mum chokes up, squeezes her mug tighter. "I think we settled on satin lining and a brushed oak top—with, uh, sorry—excuse me." She sniffs, bowing her head.
Dad reaches over, takes her hand. "A polished oak top, pink satin lining, feather pillow and I think that's everything," he whispers, eyes wavering.
"Okay," She smiles softly. "Is there a specific outfit Heidi would like to be laid in?"
"Yes," I speak for the first time since this morning. "A Chanel suit—it's upstairs."
"Lovely," she jots it down, clicks her pen, the sound echos around my head. "You won't have to deal with dressing Heidi if you don't want. I know many families find that particularly distressing."
Mum nods, glancing over at the windows and the late September sun hidden behind the grey clouds plaguing the sky. Looks like evening time but it's not, it's midday.
"We've already spoken about the ceremony. St Paul's Cathedral in London, correct?"
"Yeah," Dad swallows, licks his dry lips. "I got an email the other day—we've been approved."
"That's wonderful. Would you like to go over the ceremony plans again? What songs will be played, who will be speaking?"
"No, thank you," Mum bites her lip, trying to hold back the waterfall of sobs trying to escape. I keep my hands glued around my now stone-cold mug of coffee. I'm afraid that if I move, something will happen. I don't know what or why, but it's a delusion that's been following me around for weeks now.
The funeral director packs up, Dad sees her out and then walks back into the kitchen. "You hungry, Harp? Haven't eaten since last night, do you want some toast?"
"No thanks, I don't have an appetite," I scrunch my face up, even just the thought of food makes me want to throw up.
He nods, doesn't buy it but also knows I'll kick off if he tries shoving it down my throat. Mum gets up a moment later, head down, hair framing her face and walks upstairs. Probably to Heidi's room.
I can't bare going in there now. She looks too sick, looks too much like she's dying and I can't even deny it now. There's no hiding what will happen in the next few weeks.
Pushing the paranoia aside, I got up from the table and wiped my sweating palms on my beige riding leggings. Dad didn't ask where I was going as I walked through the house and out of the front door.
I headed straight for the stables, saddled Rosie up and took her on a walk. I haven't seen anyone in a while. I've been hauled up here because the guilt I feel while being away from Heidi just isn't worth five minutes with my friends.
