Gary McMahon

Rise

It’snot as if my aunt and I were ever close, but I believed that at the very leastI should attend her funeral.

             I hadn’t visited her house sincewe were kids but still, I recognised it as I drove along her street. The whiteplastered walls, the little bare gable window, the old slate roof. She’d lived inthis hovel like a hermit in some old fairy story: alone, with hardly anyposs