Through the rain I could see the edge of the white tent and the broad, disturbed patch of earth where I had just watched my whole life change twice.

Lucas stood under the cemetery office awning with his grandmother Joanne.

His small face was lifted toward the flashing lights, and he was trying to count the ambulances.

He had made a promise to his mother that morning, he told Joanne: he would not leave until she knew he was there.

Now he wanted to know whether he could ride with her.

I crouched before him, ignoring the cold mud soaking through my trousers.