The Edifice

2. The Will

I can't keep my hands from shaking with anger as I follow Gail and the others out into the chilly fog of the cemetery, eyes boring holes into the back of Lee Noble's ungrateful head. How dare he?

He hasn't even dressed for the occasion. I'm reminded of my suspicions that drugs were the cause of the emancipation between Robert Noble and his son. Lee's unnervingly tall frame in draped in a tattered black denim jacket and hoody, complemented with a pair of thick combat boots and fingerless gloves it appears he's trimmed himself.

He struts his way through the cobbled pathway ahead of me, hands deep in his pockets like he was taking a lazy stroll rather than leading a funeral procession. The morning mist and cigarette fog swirls around his lanky frame as though caught in a breeze, though the crisp air is quite still to me.

The procession stops at the far corner of the graveyard, where a small plot of freshly excavated earth lays bare as an open wound. A worn cherubic statue stained with miss sits beside a jarringly fresh headstone, each engraved with the surname 'Noble'.

"Here lies Robert's beloved wife, Petunia, reunited at long last with her devoted husband," Gail begins, her reedy voice tremulous amidst the cold silence. "Mr Noble, if you would like to do the honor?"

Lee runs a hand through his shaggy black curls, scratching a stubbled chin thoughtfully. He finally spits the dwindling butt of his cigarette from his mouth, stamping it into the wet earth beneath his boots. "Sure."

I move closer protectively as I watch Bob's urn transferred into his son's grubby hands, resisting the urge to snatch him back and spread the ashes myself. It's with a jolt I realise that I'm not used to attending funerals as a spectator rather than family.

Lee's eyes narrow distastefully as he weighs the ashes in one hand, lips twisted in the ghost of a sneer. "Well, thanks for the childhood, dad. Rot in hell, I guess."

A collective hush jumps through the few attendees left. Gail herself reaches for the urn in his hands but Lee moves before her hands can touch him, butting off the top of the urn like it's a bottle of champagne and letting a heavy stream of grey powder pour into the base of the grave.

"Mr Noble-" Gail chastises at a loss for words, "We're here to honor your father's memory!"

I lean over the grave, my stomach dropping as I stare down at the measly pile of ash at its base. The dull thudding of my heartbeat echoes in my ears. "Robert..."

Lee acts as though he can't hear us, staring down after his father's remains with a distant expression on his face. I look to him in shock, scared to unleash an argument over the grave of someone I respected, even as my gloved hands curl into fists.

"Mr Noble!" Gail begins again, seemingly undergoing the same dilemma as me. Her shrill voice however, seems to shake Lee out of his trance.

He jolts back to reality, flickering from a look of irritation into a terse smile. "Apologies, minister."

"I-" unsure of herself, Gail turns to me for help. "Unless anybody else has any final words...?"

Damn it. Well and truly out of my depth, I pull off a glove and scoop a handful of the excavated earth up. Trying to conjure some magic set of words to rescue Robert's legacy from disaster. "Goodbye, Bob. You were a-"

"I think we had all the speeches we needed at the service." Lee cuts me off even as the words leave my lips. He doesn't even bother to glance at me as he kicks a clump of dirt down after his father. "Who's for tea and biscuits?"

I stare in disbelief with the other mourners as we watch him turn on his heel and stalk back to the function hall. I don't see him reach for a lighter, but another plume of smoke drifts back over his retreating shoulder, leaving a sour taste in my mouth.