Flip Side: The Will

"OK."

"We'd better get back to our bikes before anyone leaves, or they'll see us."

Nip led the way this time, half-running, back down the driveway. He pulled his bike out of its hiding place and wheeled it out to the road. Nip followed him.

"Which way do you think they'll go?"

"Up, I think," said Nip. "There's a posh cemetery near Venue Square. Old man Smith was rich, so he'll probably go to that one."

"We'll wait at the top of the hill then."

Jodey pedaled to the crest of the hill and waited for Nip to catch up. It was a great place to be. Below them, in the cold mist of autumn, the city lay like a carpet covered in small grey blocks. It was a carpet of hanging smoke from newly-lit fires, and rooftops like scattered dice, and clustered trees, dark green or black. Here and there the rising sun sparkled and dazzled off windows, or glanced off a car.

The boys didn't have to wait long. Already the hearse was poking its nose out of the ragged hedge as the driver checked for traffic. Like a ship leaving a harbour, it turned slowly, sluggishly, catching the current. Then it stopped some distance up the road. One by one the other cars pulled out of the Smith property and fell in line behind the hearse. Then the whole procession began to move.

"Come on!" said Nip, beginning to pedal down the hill. Jodey caught up and passed him. The wind rushed in their faces, stinging with its coldness. Their eyes ran with false tears.

The funeral procession was now far behind, but the boys knew it would soon catch up. There was another long, steep hill ahead. They were right.

By the time the boys reached the cemetery, the graveside service was nearly over. They pushed their bikes between the monuments and stopped behind the small crowd of mourners. The minister's voice floated above their heads like a tuneless song.

"And we remember the many blessings you have showered upon us, oh Lord..."

When the formal part of the service was over, a tall, sad-looking man stepped forward and cleared his throat.