The undertaker’s voice sounded surprisingly young – I would have expected something along the lines of deep and gruff, but I couldn’t think of him more than twenty six years of age.

“Miss O’Callahan?”

Finally, I got the oxygen back into my lungs and answered.

“No…it’ll be closed.”

“I see. Thank you, Miss O’Callahan. I shall see you on Thursday.”

The phone bleeped forlornly at me, and I put it back down on its base immediately.

I let a sigh escape my lips, and sat down on the couch again.

Mrs. McCarthy gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder before hustling off to the kitchen, looking worried and murmuring about ‘how she would break it to Seamus’.

I caught Raine’s inquisitive stare. “It’s happening on Thursday.”

“What?”

“The funeral.”

“Oh.”

“Will you come?”

“Uh…”

“No one else will attend except the people in this house. None of my family members will be there, so you don’t have to worry.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

“They’re all gone – or they don’t talk to me.”