His grandmother was squeezing his hand again. He looked down at her. She was whispering something. “I’m right here,” he said softly, leaning in...close. “The trunk in the attic. The key…it’s in that old jewelry box your grandfather made me.” Gabriel breathed in her sweet scent. She always smelled like baby powder and rose water, only now it was mixed with the unpleasant scent of disinfectants used in the private hospital. Again, he kissed her cheek when she sighed, sleep overtaking her. . I barely knew my boss, having just started at the small family run drawing offices around two months ago. I’m sorely tempted to turn and have a nosy at the congregation, see how many of my new colleagues have turned up, but it’s hard to do a discreet recce when plonked up front like Big Chief Mourner. I’m pretty certain of a decent turn out from Boyd’s Designs though. They were all visibly upset when the news of his massive heart attack speedily pinged around the office like a ghoulish, doom. More

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