The Widows’ Club
The Widows’ Club
Amanda Brooke
There’s a murderer in their midst… @thewidowsclubIn response to unprecedented media interest, we confirm that the murder victim was a member of our group. We will not be commenting further. When April joins a support group for young widows, she’s looking for answers after her husband’s sudden death. What she finds instead is a group in turmoil. Set up by well-meaning amateurs, the founders are tussling for control of the group, and everyone’s on edge. Added to that, secret relationships springing up between members and another new member, Nick, seems more than a little bit shady… But the most dangerous secret of all? Not all members are who they seem to be. And they’ll go to any lengths to hide the truth…
THE WIDOWS’ CLUB
Amanda Brooke
Copyright (#u7162bcf3-cc48-52d6-a841-0718e2099204)
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London, SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Copyright © Amanda Valentine 2019
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Cover photographs © Rekha Garton / Trevillion Images (main image); Ilina Simeonova / Trevillion Images (flowers)
Amanda Valentine asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008219215
Ebook Edition © November 2019 ISBN: 9780008219222
Version: 2019-09-24
Dedication (#u7162bcf3-cc48-52d6-a841-0718e2099204)
For my daughter and my best friend, Jess
Epigraph (#u7162bcf3-cc48-52d6-a841-0718e2099204)
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.
Emily Dickinson
Contents
Cover (#u949b1b86-f647-5094-8417-320eb88693c1)
Title Page (#ud73f591b-d559-56cd-a129-21e85df88370)
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter 1 (#udd95eed4-14da-5fad-b7b7-203a9ca44149)
Chapter 2 (#uc08e22f6-8c55-550b-9c7c-dbcfee0af0fb)
Chapter 3 (#ua010c4e9-2e54-5a11-ae93-11edfc4d8319)
Chapter 4 (#ue92b8dce-109f-57c4-9298-c98621bc53a7)
Chapter 5 (#u51d20a3a-b11b-5b91-a4a1-7ea6acc8288d)
Chapter 6 (#ue54c8c20-811f-5f3f-8026-413eaae38bac)
Chapter 7 (#u46b5e0b4-a85a-5506-8a5e-4b905e0f5095)
Chapter 8 (#ue67cc524-91e3-53f0-aabb-2eb2fb4a0d16)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 36 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 37 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 38 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 39 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 40 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 41 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 42 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 43 (#litres_trial_promo)
Eight Months Later
Acknowledgements
Keep Reading …
About the Author
Also by Amanda Brooke
About the Publisher
STATEMENT
The Widows’ Club @thewidowsclub
In response to unprecedented media interest, we confirm that the deceased was a member of the group but are unable to comment further. We kindly request that the privacy of the group and its members is respected at this difficult time.
1 (#ulink_e004c93c-0d3e-519e-b8a3-9aa162eac0b9)
As April Thorpe stood outside Hale Village Hall on a damp September evening, she didn’t know if she was ready to join the group she spied through the windows. A dozen or so chairs had been arranged in a circle, but so far no one had taken their seats in the glass-fronted room on the lower floor. They had gathered in the foyer, sipping tea and chatting, and when someone tipped their head back and laughed, it felt wrong. How could they look so relaxed and happy? Who in their right mind would want to be a member of this exclusive club? April certainly didn’t.
She was tempted to scurry away home and scream into her pillow, but she knew from experience that wouldn’t lessen the pain. It was time for a new approach, but April’s feet refused to move. She was scared, and her fear was echoed high above her head in the low rumble of a plane making an approach to land. Hale was directly beneath the flight path for John Lennon Airport and in the darkened sky, the noise carried a sense of foreboding.
‘I don’t belong here,’ she mumbled to herself. ‘I’m too young to be a widow.’
A passer-by might say the same. Widows weren’t thirty years old with bright auburn hair and a feathering of wrinkles around sharp, green eyes. They were older, with laughter lines and watery eyes that captured decades of memories. Such women might point out that a lifetime wasn’t nearly long enough, but it was longer than the five years she and Jason had been married.
Widowhood had been thrust upon April seven months and twelve days ago on a cold, February morning, and whether she liked it or not, she had earned her place here. She imagined Jason prodding her shoulder to get her moving, and her body swayed ever so slightly.
‘Are you coming in?’ someone behind her asked.
April turned to find a smartly dressed woman offering her a smile. She looked like someone April might bump into at the office, someone normal, but her tote bag gave her away. It had the phrase, ‘Hope is the thing with wings’ emblazoned across it.
‘Erm. Sure,’ she replied.
Swept along by embarrassment rather than purpose, April stepped into the foyer to be greeted by the one person who wasn’t a stranger. Tara was in her mid-thirties and reminded April of a tall Audrey Hepburn with her dark hair pulled back into a chignon. The look was completed with a black-and-white striped top and a pair of pedal pushers. She didn’t look like a widow either.
Tara had stumbled into April’s life by chance a couple of weeks earlier when delivering boxes of exquisite cupcakes to the office where April worked as an internal auditor. The cakes were the finishing touch to a lunch-time baby shower the team had organised for one of their colleagues. Sara had had a difficult pregnancy, not least because her boyfriend had dumped her soon after she discovered she was expecting, but on her last day at work, her belly had been taut, her smile broad, and her happiness suffocating. April had no right to spoil her friend’s moment and in her haste to escape, she had almost knocked the cake boxes out of Tara’s arms.
‘Bad day at the office?’ Tara had asked later when she found April shivering outside the building.
April pulled out her earphones. She had been listening to one of Jason’s playlists on Spotify, feeling safe with songs her husband had chosen rather than risk new releases he would never get to hear. ‘I’m sorry about before.’
‘I don’t suppose I can expect everyone to fight over my cakes. I’m Tara, by the way.’
‘April,’ she replied as she took a closer look at her new companion. That day, Tara was wearing a vintage print tea dress with a pale yellow, round-necked cardigan. Her dark eyeliner flicks accentuated eyes that scrutinised April’s features.
‘I don’t normally do the deliveries,’ Tara said, ‘but I had to be on this side of the water anyway. I’m on my way to Clatterbridge Hospital next. I go back every year.’ She left a pause before adding, ‘My husband died there eight years ago today.’
‘That’s lovely,’ April said. She blinked. ‘Sorry, I mean, that’s awful, but it’s nice that you go back.’ Her cheeks flushed. She was usually on the receiving end of such a clumsy response and it felt odd to have the situation reversed. She hadn’t been prepared to meet another widow so much like herself. ‘You must have been quite young when you lost him.’
‘Twenty-eight.’
‘I was twenty-nine,’ replied April.
‘I know,’ Tara said. ‘I spoke to your friend Sara and she mentioned why you might be upset.’
‘Then maybe you could explain it to me,’ April said, and for the first time she felt like she was talking to someone who might actually know why she felt the way she did. ‘I’m happy for Sara, and it’s not like Jason and I ever lost a child or suffered a miscarriage. We weren’t even trying for a baby.’
‘And now you’ll never get the chance,’ Tara replied. ‘While everyone else is working out their future paths, the ground in front of you has fallen away and you’re balancing on the edge of a precipice.’
‘I am,’ April said with a nod that threatened to spill the tears welling in her eyes. ‘I woke up one morning and everything I thought I had was gone. Jason died in his sleep. A subarachnoid haemorrhage. There was no warning. Nothing.’
April could remember how she had stretched out her arms when she awoke that morning. Her hand had touched something cold and even the memory made her recoil. She had no idea how long she had been lying next to Jason like that, but it would have been hours and there was no doubting he was dead. Her first reaction had been to scramble backwards off the bed, and she had landed hard on the floor. Unable, or unwilling to process what was happening, she had started to scream. Luckily they lived in a flat, and one of her neighbours had heard her.
Staring into the distance, April was back on her bedroom floor. A part of her had never left.
‘It will get easier,’ Tara assured her. ‘The grief might stay with you for ever but the shock each time you remember your loss will become less intense, or else you’ll simply get used to that stabbing pain in the centre of your heart.’
‘It really is a physical pain, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘How did you get through it?’
‘With a lot of help from a close network of family and friends. My daughter Molly was only two at the time, and Mike and I ran a business together, so there was no choice but to keep going.’
‘Gosh, that must have been hard. I don’t know how I’d cope if I had a baby to look after as well,’ April admitted, which only confused her emotions about the dreaded baby shower.
‘You seem to have a good group of friends around you too,’ Tara told her.
‘They must be sick and tired of walking around on eggshells. I don’t know how I feel from one minute to the next, and if I can’t predict how I’ll react, how can they? I know I’m being irrational half the time.’
‘Talking helps.’
April shook her head. ‘I don’t have any siblings, and I can’t offload on my parents, or worse still, Jason’s. I keep telling myself I should open up to friends, but Jason and I had known each other since school and we worked for the same council. His mates were mine, and vice versa. I can’t talk to them. It’s too painful. It’s too complicated.’
‘If you’re interested, I run a support group called the Widows’ Club. We were a bit short-sighted when we came up with the name because quite a few of our members these days are men, but we were all widowed under the age of fifty. We meet once a month to share things that would probably sound crazy to anyone else. We cry, we vent, and occasionally we have a laugh too.’
April bit her lip. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, edging away. ‘I should be getting back to work.’
Tara chuckled to herself. ‘I know how this must look, but I promise, I’m not some recruiter for a weird cult. Here,’ she said, pulling a business card from her pocket. ‘My mobile number’s on the back, or you can look up the group online. Have a think about it and if you’re interested, come over to my shop and we’ll have a proper chat.’
The embossed card with cursive script was for Tee’s Cakes and above Tara’s phone number was her address. ‘You’re in Hale Village? I live in Eastham.’
‘Then we’re practically neighbours,’ Tara said, dismissing the fact that the Mersey flowed between the two villages. ‘If you can get there, you’d be very welcome.’
Meeting another young widow had felt fated and, despite April’s reservations, she had visited Tara’s shop the following week where she found herself being inducted into the group. Tara’s offer of friendship had proven difficult to resist and she didn’t look in the least bit surprised when her newest recruit arrived at the village hall for her first meeting.
‘I knew you’d come,’ she said, giving April’s arm a squeeze.
‘I didn’t,’ April replied, stunned that she had made it this far.
There followed a blur of introductions that left April dizzy. After months of isolation, she was now one of many. Someone made her a coffee and another offered her a carefully crafted cupcake, presumably from Tee’s Cakes, but a combination of nerves and dread churned April’s insides. She was lucky to make it past the pleasantries without throwing up.
When it was time and they all took their seats in the circle, April didn’t know if she would talk, or what she might say if she did find her voice. With dark, unspeakable thoughts swirling inside her head, she stared into the depths of her half-empty mug until she became aware of the room falling silent. She looked up, and it was Tara’s face she saw first. She was sitting opposite to keep April in her line of sight, while the group’s other administrator, Justine, sat on April’s right. She was the one who had greeted April outside the hall.
Justine was around the same age as Tara, although her style was far more conservative. She wore a tailored dress and her sleek blonde ponytail swished as she bent down to take a clipboard from her tote bag. Tara had described her as the organised half of their partnership, and April was beginning to see why.
‘Shall we get started?’ Justine asked.
‘Sure,’ Tara replied. ‘Welcome back everyone. I’d like to start by introducing not one but two new members to the Widows’ Club. For those who haven’t had a chance to say hello yet, we have April sitting on Justine’s right, and on her left is Nick.’
There was a ripple of greetings and nods directed at the newbies, but April latched on to Nick’s smile. Wearing a suit and clean-shaven, he was in his late thirties and had spoken with a soft Liverpool accent when they had been introduced earlier. She had been too dazed at the time to pick up that she wasn’t the only curiosity in the room, but now that she knew, she felt drawn to him. They all had stories, and like the rest of the group, she wanted to hear his.
‘On behalf of all of us,’ Tara said, ‘I’m so sorry that you find yourself needing this group, but we’re in this together. Please contribute as much or as little as makes you comfortable. No one is here to judge.’
‘No Faith tonight?’ asked one of the men.
‘She’s passed on her apologies, but I’m sure our new members will have the pleasure of her company at the next meeting,’ explained Tara. ‘Right then, who wants to contribute first?’
As the conversation began to flow, April took time to familiarise herself with the faces that turned occasionally in her direction. The women outnumbered the men, but their ages were more evenly spread. There was at least one woman who looked younger than April, and a couple of members in their late forties, giving the group an age range that spanned more than a quarter of a century.
April tried her best to memorise names and keep a mental note of their individual circumstances, but it was difficult to keep track when her thoughts kept tugging her back to why she was there and how much she should share. What she did manage to glean was that some members had endured watching their loved ones’ health decline whilst others had suffered the shock of losing their partners in the blink of an eye. Some had children, others did not. They were all different, and yet whenever someone raised a gripe about a world that didn’t understand them, there were nods of agreement around the room.
‘I told myself I should get out more,’ a woman was saying. She glanced over at April and Nick to catch their eye. ‘I’m Jodie, by the way. My husband went out to play five-a-side one night and never came home. Heart attack. He died right there on the pitch two and a half years ago. He was twenty-seven.’ Jodie pursed her lips and there was a spark of anger, or was it disbelief behind her eyes? April had felt both.
‘I’m sorry,’ April replied, her first contribution to the group beyond a couple of indecipherable mumbles. Nick had been quiet too, listening intently as he pulled at the starched cuffs of his pristine white shirt.
‘So, where was I?’ Jodie asked with forced cheeriness, only to find she couldn’t continue. She tipped back her head and blinked hard for a second or two before straightening up. ‘You’d think I’d be able to control these flipping tears by now. Can you believe I went a whole week without crying last month? Honestly, I’m so sorry.’
‘You don’t have to apologise, not here,’ Tara reminded her.
‘I know, but sometimes it would be nice to say what I want to say without breaking down. It’s not like it was something sad, not really. All I wanted to share was that I bit the bullet and went out clubbing with my mates the other week,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t looking to meet anyone, but all my friends are in couples and they’re desperate to hook me up with someone new. They spent the entire night striking meerkat poses to check out potential candidates.’
‘Did you mind?’ asked Justine.
‘Not really, or not at first. I know they just want to see me happy again.’
‘Only you can know when the time’s right,’ Steve said. He had introduced himself earlier, explaining how he’d nursed his wife through treatment for ovarian cancer. It hadn’t worked, the disease had been detected too late because a thirty-four-year-old mother of two presenting with symptoms couldn’t possibly have cancer. ‘You shouldn’t feel pressurised, Jode. It could be they’re only interested in pairing you up because they’re worried you’ll sink your claws into one of their husbands. The last time I went to what had been one of our regular couples’ nights, the men were ridiculously possessive of their wives. Probably explains why I wasn’t invited back.’
Blood rushed to April’s cheeks as she thought about her inner circle of friends. They had all rallied around her after Jason died, but April had slowly distanced herself. It was too painful to go out without Jason and, like Steve, she had detected a growing awkwardness too. She didn’t think her friends saw her as any sort of competition, but it did happen, didn’t it? People formed inappropriate attachments to their friends’ partners all the time, and you didn’t have to be widowed for it to happen.
Jodie rolled her eyes. ‘Seriously, Steve, I’m not a threat, and my mates know it. The idea of being with anyone else still feels like cheating on Ryan, and I couldn’t do that to him – especially with one of our friends.’
April took a breath. This was it. This was why she was here. She needed to delve deeper into Jodie’s theory about what friends would and wouldn’t do – what Jason would or wouldn’t do. Finally, she could tell a group of strangers what she couldn’t share with anyone else; that when she grieved for her husband, she felt a burning anger and a growing fear. Was it normal to suspect your dead husband of cheating on you? She needed to know.
2 (#ulink_5b0bec47-381d-51c4-af53-1e2c8962ff87)
April was about to share her darkest fears with the group, but before she could muster the courage, Nick cleared his throat to speak. The breath April had been holding escaped with a soft gasp, and she was left feeling crushed but temporarily relieved. What if she were wrong to suspect Jason? Worse still, what if she were right?
‘I’ve no idea how I’d fare in a new relationship,’ Nick began. ‘How could anyone compare to Erin when I choose to remember only the best parts of our relationship? I’ll never love anyone like I loved her. She was perfect.’
Nick turned to meet April’s gaze. He was seeking reassurance, but April lowered her head and closed her eyes as a rush of sacred memories assaulted her. She had once thought Jason was perfect too.
‘Would you like to tell us about Erin?’ asked Justine.
‘Sure,’ Nick said. He pulled at his cuff, unable to continue until it was straight. ‘Erin found a lump in her breast and pretty soon after we were told it was cancer. She was only thirty-two and it didn’t seem real.’ He paused a moment before adding, ‘I should explain that Erin and I weren’t married, but I asked Justine and she said it would be OK with you guys.’
Justine nodded. ‘I told Nick we recognise the love between two people and not what’s written on a certificate. Our differences bring us together, they don’t set us apart,’ she said. ‘Lisa and I had a civil partnership, but I’ve never been treated any differently in this group.’
‘Not marrying Erin is one of my deepest regrets,’ Nick admitted. ‘I was stupid. I didn’t appreciate what I had until it was too late. She had treatment, but there were secondaries and she never did get the all-clear we were praying for. The last thing Erin said to me was not to waste my life thinking about what might have been. I couldn’t believe how brave and noble she was, right up to the end.’
‘I’m sure you were brave too,’ said a woman sitting next to Steve. Nadiya was another thirty-something with three children to bring up after her husband had drowned on an ill-fated boat trip.
‘If you’d seen me, you wouldn’t have thought so. I was useless to her.’
‘My husband had cancer too,’ Tara explained. ‘And I remember feeling that sense of impotence. It was their fight, their suffering, and we were the bystanders.’
‘How did you cope?’ Nick asked.
‘I have no idea,’ Tara said, but she glanced at Justine and added, ‘Actually I do. I had family and friends like Justine who looked after me and my baby so I could look after Mike in his last months. I’m sure I appeared brave, but I was a mess inside.’
‘Two years on and I’m still a mess,’ Nick said, head down as he tugged at his shirt sleeve. He sniffed back tears before adding, ‘Sorry.’
There was a pause that no one tried to fill until it became clear that Nick had said as much as he could for his first meeting. One or two people glanced at April. It was her turn, but after listening to Nick, her emotions were pinballing between the pain of her loss and her anger.
Steve was close enough to hear her gulp as she struggled to swallow a mouthful of cold coffee and he offered her a reprieve. ‘It’s not all gloom and doom,’ he said. ‘There are some of us who make new relationships work, aren’t there Tara? Where’s Iain tonight?’
If April wasn’t mistaken, there was a blush rising in Tara’s cheeks. ‘At home looking after the girls.’
‘Your place or his?’ asked Nadiya, quick to join in the teasing that brought light back to a room crowded with ghosts.
‘My flat, although I won’t be living above the shop for much longer. Iain and I have put an offer in for a house around the corner on Pebble Street,’ Tara replied. She bit her lip as she waited for the group’s reaction. It was Nick and April’s frowns she noticed first. ‘Sorry, I should explain. Iain’s another member of the group and this lot have had to listen to us debating whether or not to move in together for a while now. We each have a daughter and we didn’t want to rush things.’
‘And how are the girls taking the news?’ Nadiya asked.
‘We haven’t told them yet, but I know Molly’s going to be thrilled. She’ll be glad not to have to share her poky little bedroom with Lily whenever she stays over.’
‘And what about Lily?’ Justine prompted.
Tara shifted in her seat. ‘That’s going to be more of a challenge. She’ll have to move schools, and, whereas I can keep the flat so we can rent it out, Iain’s putting their house in Widnes on the market. It’s not going to be easy for Lily to leave the place where she lived with her mum, but I hope there are enough positives to outweigh the negatives.’
‘We had to move house because we couldn’t afford to stay where we were,’ said Nadiya. ‘The older two were sobbing their hearts out on the day we left, but they settled eventually.’
‘It’s a new start for all of us.’
‘Do you think Iain will keep coming to the group?’ asked Justine. ‘He’s missed a few now.’
‘You’d have to ask him that, but maybe he has got as much out of the group as he needs,’ Tara replied. Smiling, she added, ‘Possibly more than he was expecting, but that’s the thing, we have each other now and a future to look forward to.’
Justine played with the corner of her clipboard. ‘You make it sound like you’re considering leaving too.’
April tightened her grip on her mug. The others were lovely, but Tara was the one who had persuaded April to join the group and she didn’t want to lose her so soon.
‘No, I have no plans to escape just yet,’ Tara said, falling short of giving them an absolute assurance. She gave a chuckle, but her smile was tight when she added, ‘And who knows? Blending two families could go horribly wrong and we might need you all more than ever.’
After another pause, Justine sat up a little straighter. ‘Are we about done for tonight?’
The thought of leaving without making any contribution was enough for April to regain the courage that had failed her earlier. ‘Can I say something?’ she asked.
‘Don’t feel you have to talk about Jason until you’re ready,’ said Tara.
The sound of Jason’s name falling from the lips of someone who had never known him, in a place he had never been, evoked such bittersweet emotion. April was angry, confused, and possibly paranoid, but she had never lost sight of how much she missed her husband, or how much she had loved him. No one in this room was ever going to meet Jason, but he was the reason she was there. He was what connected her to each and every one of them. She inhaled slowly and her breath vibrated over the thump of her heart.
‘I’ll admit my feelings are confused,’ she began, ‘so I apologise if what I’m about to say doesn’t make sense.’
‘Why don’t you start at the beginning?’ suggested Tara. ‘There’s no rush.’
April nodded. It was as safe a place as any. ‘Jason and I were childhood sweethearts and we managed the whole long-distance relationship while I went off to do my accountancy degree and he took an apprenticeship as a surveyor. When I came back, we ended up working in different departments for the same council. We moved in together and eventually got married just over five years ago. Our lives were perfectly synchronised until the night Jason died in his sleep,’ she said, surprised her voice held despite the crushing pain that made it difficult to breathe. ‘He was gone, just like that.’
‘It happens,’ said Jodie. Nadiya was also nodding.
‘I was told the bleed on his brain had been sudden and catastrophic,’ she said. ‘No one could have known there was a time bomb ticking inside his head, but I do wonder if there were signs. Jason changed in those last few months. I couldn’t do right for doing wrong but we got through last Christmas, and by February, he seemed like his old self. The night before was just an average Tuesday evening at home watching TV, eating pizza and going to bed.’
April didn’t mention the sex, but it had been intense, followed by leftover pizza and slower, more languorous sex until they had fallen asleep utterly and completely sated.
‘I’m pretty sure I woke up with a smile on my face,’ she continued as she closed her eyes and recalled how she had felt that morning. There had been a sense of relief that they were back on track. Whatever had been wrong between them had been fixed.
As the scene played out in her mind, her blood ran cold.
Justine leant in. ‘You don’t have to do this,’ she whispered.
A sob escaped, but April swallowed the next one back. ‘I keep going back over our life together and challenging everything. All the things I should have said, or should have asked but didn’t. I want to know what Jason was thinking. I need to know. There are so many questions. I want … I want …’
Justine patted April’s back as she gasped for air. ‘Maybe that’s enough for one night.’
Through vision blurred with tears, April looked to Tara, who asked, ‘Is that OK with you, April? Do you want to stop there?’
No, thought April. I want to tell you how I spend most nights going through pages and pages of phone bills, emails, and bank account statements as if I’m reading a book that’s been carefully edited so as not to reveal the final twist. If an undetected bleed on the brain hadn’t caused Jason’s change in behaviour, April wanted to know what – or who, had? She didn’t think the group could give her an answer, but she might feel better for asking it. Unfortunately, the only sound she could utter was another sob as someone passed her a tissue.
‘In that case,’ Tara continued, ‘thank you all for coming, and if there are any cupcakes left in the foyer, please take them home.’
‘And before you leave,’ Justine said, raising her voice above the scrape of chair legs, ‘if there’s anyone who hasn’t paid the deposit for the Christmas do, can I have it as soon as?’
Everyone was up on their feet, but rather than heading for the exit, they gravitated towards April and Nick.
‘If you’re in need of a stiff drink,’ Steve said to April, ‘a few of us are going over to The Childe of Hale for a quick one.’
‘I’d better not, I’m driving,’ she replied as Jodie approached and wrapped her in a bear hug.
‘It will get better, although I can’t promise the tears will dry up anytime soon,’ she said.
‘I can vouch for that on Jodie’s behalf,’ added Steve.
Jodie poked him in the ribs. ‘For that you can buy the first round.’
As the group thinned out, Nick approached April and he too gave her a hug. ‘We can do this,’ he whispered.
Nick was slow to pull away and for a split second April had an irrational fear that he was going to cup her cheek in one of his broad hands as Jason had once done. She turned her head quickly.
‘You both did really well and I hope you’ll be back next month,’ said Justine, laying a hand on each of their arms to give a gentle squeeze. ‘And it would be lovely to see you at the Christmas party too. I know it’s only September, but it’s a dinner-dance and these things need to be booked early.’
‘Sure, how much is it?’ asked Nick, slipping a hand into his jacket pocket.
‘We’re asking for a £40 contribution and the rest will be made up from our end-of-year surplus,’ Justine said. Glancing at April, she added, ‘We’re very careful about how we manage member subscriptions and we don’t like to build up too much in reserves. Can we tempt you too?’
‘I’m not sure. I haven’t been planning that far ahead,’ April stuttered. She had so far declined any and all plans for Christmas and New Year. Knowing how she might feel three months from now was an impossible task.
‘There’s no rush,’ Tara said, coming to her rescue. ‘If you want to decide nearer the time, I’m sure we can sneak you in.’
Justine’s mouth twitched, but she didn’t overrule Tara. She took the money Nick handed over and said, ‘Come with me and I’ll sort out a receipt.’
‘No, it’s fine. I trust you.’
‘Honestly, I insist,’ Justine replied, taking his arm and pulling him away.
Nick looked back over his shoulder at April. ‘See you next time.’
Tara waited until the smile April had returned to Nick began to fade. ‘You don’t have to wait until next month if you need to talk sooner. Ring me anytime. That’s an order.’
The invitation was almost too much, and April came close to blurting out all those thoughts and feelings she hadn’t managed to share with the group. She needed someone like Tara in her life.
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘but you might regret the offer. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m pretty messed up.’
Tara smiled. ‘I’ll let you into a secret,’ she said in a hushed voice, ‘we all are.’
3 (#ulink_26ac2e02-c079-58e3-b8ed-eb2c8009523c)
Once the last of the lunchtime customers had been served, Tara shut up the shop. She closed early on Wednesday afternoons and would normally use the time to make up cake orders, but she had other plans today and had already sent her deputy manager, Michelle, home early. Molly, Tara’s ten-year-old daughter, was still in school, and Iain was home in Widnes, decluttering the house while eight-year-old Lily was out of the way. Tara would need to have a pre-move clear-out too, but with the limited space available in the flat upstairs, she had learnt a long time ago to be ruthless with keepsakes. Even so, it would be a wrench for both families to step away from the past, and as Tara enjoyed a rare moment of calm, she stopped to appreciate where she was and how far she had come.
Tee’s Cakes had the feel of a Parisian patisserie, with a high counter running along one side of the shop to display intricately crafted cakes and tarts, and a line of padded booths on the opposite side for customers to sip their coffee and whisper secrets. Additional seating could be set up outside, weather-permitting, and the kitchen in the back was state-of-the-art to meet the demands of daily visitors and a thriving online business. Mike wouldn’t recognise the place.
He had originally opened the shop as a traditional café serving English breakfasts and sandwiches to both the locals and returning visitors who had stumbled upon the village and discovered its secrets. Hale was an often overlooked settlement on the edges of the Mersey, and boasted two pubs, a church, and a post office. It had a rich history that stretched back to Roman times, with several points of interest including a nature reserve at Pickering’s Pasture and a lighthouse at Hale Head, and no visit was complete without a trip to St Mary’s church and the grave of John Middleton, better known as the Childe of Hale. The history of the village’s four-hundred-year-old resident, who had reportedly measured nine feet four inches tall, was well known. Sadly, few would stop to remember Michael Thomas Price, who had been dead just eight years.
Tara had known Mike as a friend, a boss, and briefly as a flatmate before they realised there was a spark between them that couldn’t be contained. Tara had grown up in Hale and, after coming top of her class at catering college, she had turned up at Mike’s café one day looking for a job. Her plan was to save enough money to move to Paris where she intended to perfect her craft, but it wasn’t long before Tara had created a successful sideline for Mike by selling her cakes. They worked side by side and with the days so long, it made sense for her to crash out in his spare bedroom above the café. She never did make it to Paris.
Looking around at the transformation, she hoped Mike would approve of how she had used the money he had left her. Of one thing she was certain, he would approve of Iain. In those last days before cancer stole her husband from her, Mike had made it very clear that he wanted Tara to find someone else. If anything, he would ask why it had taken her so long.
Drawn to the window, Tara looked out across the small car park that served Ivy Farm Court; a parade of shops of which Tee’s Cakes was one of eight units. She could see the entrance to Hale Primary School on the opposite side of the road where Lily would join Molly once the house move was complete. The main road continued up towards the park and the Childe of Hale pub where it hit a sharp bend at the war memorial, which formed its own little island between the lanes.
In the aftermath of Mike’s death, Tara had often pictured the regiments of war widows standing before the sandstone cross to remember the husbands who hadn’t made it home. She had imagined them drawing comfort from each other and, longing for something similar, she had created the Widows’ Club with Justine’s help. It was her way to reach out to others, and she had taken far more from it than she could ever hope to give. She was yet to decide if she had given enough.
As Tara stared off into space, her mind unable to form a clear vision of the future, she didn’t register the flash of Faith’s white Range Rover until her friend pulled up directly in front of the shop. Tara unlocked the door and beckoned her inside.
Faith had dropped into Tara’s life three years earlier when she had visited the shop to pick up a large order of French pastries. This was in the days before Iain had used his Internet wizardry to establish Tara’s online business, and when Faith had explained that the cakes were a thank-you gesture to colleagues who had supported her after the loss of her husband the year before, Tara had hooked Faith in. She was good at that.
‘You look nice,’ Faith said with more generosity than was entirely deserving of Tara’s current ensemble.
Having a job that required crawling out of bed at an ungodly hour, Tara had grabbed random items of clothing from her wardrobe in near darkness and only as the sun rose did she notice that the mustard yellow swing skirt clashed brazenly with the pink checks of her vintage blouse. Her customers were used to her eccentricities, but she wished she had tried harder today as Faith slipped off her bright yellow rain jacket.
‘And you look stunning,’ she said as she admired Faith’s dove grey cashmere jumper paired with black cigarette pants. At forty-six, Faith maintained a seemingly effortless beauty. With penetrating grey eyes and a flawless complexion, her make-up was understated and she had caught up her tousled blonde hair into a messy ponytail that left stray curls to frame her face perfectly. This was Faith’s idea of casual. ‘Make yourself comfortable and I’ll sort the coffee. Do you fancy a slice of cake?’
‘Why else would I be here?’
Five minutes later, Tara set down two cups of coffee, one opera cake, and three plates and forks.
‘Please don’t say Justine’s joining us!’
‘I wouldn’t do that to you,’ Tara said, only to feel a pang of guilt. Justine had been there for Tara long before Faith dazzled her way into her life. ‘I wouldn’t do it to Justine either.’
Faith pulled a face: the clash of personalities was felt on both sides. ‘So how was the meeting the other week? Did I miss anything? Was there lots of blubbing?’
‘It was a good session and I think our new members are going to fit in well. You should have been there,’ Tara said pointedly as she served up a slice of cake for each of them.
‘It was probably safer that I wasn’t. We’ll be running out of space if you recruit any more.’
‘The numbers are fine.’ Tara played with the cake on her plate, carefully separating the intricate layers of coffee-soaked almond sponge, ganache and buttercream. She didn’t look up when she added, ‘Iain wasn’t there either.’
Faith cocked her head. ‘And was that a problem?’
‘It did raise a question in the group about whether he was thinking of leaving. We have talked about it, and, while Iain’s not going to make a firm decision just yet, he’s doesn’t need the group like he did before. He wants to focus fully on the future.’
‘Easier said than done.’
‘I’m not suggesting we airbrush out the past,’ Tara said, suddenly aware of the strong aroma of coffee that was a stark contrast to the smell of sizzling bacon she associated with Mike’s café. She had held on to the life insurance money for almost three years before plucking up the courage to have the place remodelled. The café’s reincarnation had a distinct French vibe, but Tara had ensured there was a place for treasured mementoes too, including Mike’s chef’s cap pressed flat inside a frame on the wall behind the counter. ‘But Iain and I have each other now, and if there are any issues to face, we should deal with them as a couple.’
Faith’s cup was halfway to her lips. ‘You make it sound like you want to leave too.’
Tara didn’t answer immediately. ‘Funnily enough, that was something else the group picked up on.’
‘Anyone in particular?’ Faith asked with a raised eyebrow. ‘I bet Justine would love it if you left. I keep telling you, she doesn’t like being overshadowed. She must be champing at the bit to run the group on her own.’
Tara refused to entertain the idea that there were cracks developing in her friendship with Justine. It was true that, occasionally, it felt like there was an element of competition when it came to opening and closing the meetings, but Justine admitted herself that Tara was more natural when it came to leading the discussion. ‘She was as concerned as the rest of the group that I might consider leaving,’ Tara insisted. ‘And if I did go, I’d make sure there was someone else to pick up the slack.’
Faith had managed to take a sip of her coffee this time, and she spluttered. ‘I hope you’re not suggesting me?’
Tara laughed. As good as Faith would be at controlling the group, they could all agree that she and Justine would not make the ideal partnership. ‘It doesn’t have to be you. Steve or Nadiya might be willing.’
‘Justine wouldn’t work with any of us. She might say the right things, but she’d push us out eventually.’ Faith leant forward when she added, ‘It’s what she’s doing now with you. You just don’t see it.’
‘I’m not leaving ye—’
‘Good,’ Faith said before Tara could add the caveat. ‘You keep chairing the meetings and Justine can carry on as the bean counter. Speaking of which …’ She took an envelope from her handbag and slid it across the table. ‘Here’s my balance for the Christmas party.’
Tara wrinkled her nose. ‘I’ll take it on the condition you tell Justine I’ve given you a receipt. She’s become obsessed with keeping the accounts squeaky clean since finding out one of our new members is an auditor. Like April could care less.’
‘I like the sound of April already.’
‘That’s good because she’s on her way over. The extra plate is for her,’ Tara said, watching for Faith’s expression. She didn’t disappoint.
‘And you call yourself a friend? Why are you doing this to me, Tara? She’s going to cry, isn’t she?’
‘Quite possibly,’ Tara said and went on to explain April’s nightmarish discovery of her husband’s body. ‘She needs us, Faith, and I think she’ll talk more if it’s just me and you. A large group can be overwhelming and in hindsight it was a mistake to have two new members starting at the same time. You sidestepped the last meeting, but you’re not getting out of this.’
It was no coincidence that Faith had made her excuses. Introductions were often cathartic for new members, but their raw grief could be harrowing for those who were further along their journey.
‘I was busy with work,’ Faith insisted.
‘If you say so.’
Tara didn’t push further. Faith put on a convincing act, but she continued to feel her husband Derek’s loss keenly. Unlike April and Nick, it had taken several sessions before she had been able to share her story with the group, but she too had cried.
Faith was unlike anyone Tara had ever met. She could be as charming as she could be blunt. She had no time for fools, but for the lucky few she let into her heart, she was fiercely protective, hence her animosity towards Justine for her perceived attempts to undermine Tara.
‘You’re going to like April. I promise.’
Faith scowled. ‘And what about the other newbie? Is he invited too?’
‘No,’ Tara replied. ‘He’ll manage just fine with the group.’
‘What’s he like?’
‘His name’s Nick Malford, he’s thirty-eight, and he lost his partner two years ago. It was Justine who enrolled him so I don’t know all the details. What I can say is that he’s genuinely heartbroken, and he’s not afraid to shed a tear,’ she teased Faith. ‘But he has a certain confidence about him, so I expect he’ll integrate with the others quite quickly.’
‘So we’re left with the problem child.’
‘We’re left with someone who needs some extra attention.’
‘You’re lucky this cake is so good,’ mumbled Faith as she stabbed it with her fork. ‘And while I gorge myself, tell me where you’re up to with the house move. You look stressed. Are you stressed?’
‘You said I looked nice before,’ Tara reminded her, but she was smiling. Most people assumed she could cope with whatever life threw at her and it was a rare thing for someone to stop and ask if she was OK. Tara should have known that person would be Faith. ‘But you’re right, things are getting very real. There’s a bit of wrangling over the house on Pepper Street after the survey picked up a couple of issues, but that’s nothing compared to the stumbling block we’ve hit with Iain’s house. He thought he had a buyer, but apparently they haven’t secured a mortgage yet.’
‘It’ll happen.’
Tara felt her stomach clench. ‘Maybe that’s the issue.’
It had felt like fate was giving them a nudge when Iain had been made redundant over the summer, and they had planned their future while sitting on a bench in Pickering’s Pasture. Everything had seemed to click into place as they gazed out across the mirrored surface of the Mersey with the girls close by taking turns birdspotting with a pair of binoculars. With the online business taking off, Tara’s fortunes had taken a turn for the better. She needed more help with the admin, plus a part-time delivery driver, which conveniently added up to a full-time job. To the background noise of their daughters’ giggles, they had struck upon the perfect solution. She and Iain would join forces and become partners in every sense of the word, but as the summer faded and the days shortened, the imperfections in their plan had become difficult to ignore.
‘Don’t tell me, the pieces don’t fit into place as neatly as you imagined,’ Faith said.
‘Barring a few adjustments, the house move and the business set-up will work out fine,’ Tara replied. ‘If there are delays, we’ll manage.’
‘Then what’s the problem? Are you having second thoughts about Iain?’
‘Absolutely not,’ Tara said quickly, her heart clenching. ‘I know we’ve only been together for a year, but I couldn’t love him more. It feels right, and I know he’d say the same. Our families might be two broken pieces from different puzzles, but we can fit together, given the chance.’
‘Ah, so the girls are the problem.’
‘Iain and I took them for a walk to the lighthouse at the weekend and explained we could be in our new house by the end of the year. Molly was over the moon, but Lily was worryingly quiet,’ Tara said as she pictured them walking back to the village.
Molly had raced ahead, but Lily had slipped her hand into her dad’s. When Tara had offered to take her other hand, Lily had refused. ‘My mummy’s holding this one,’ she had said.
‘It’s natural that they’d react differently,’ Tara told Faith. ‘Molly was practically a baby when Mike died and she’s never known any different. It might take her some time to adjust to having a father figure, but she can’t wait to move out of the flat. Lily on the other hand was five when she lost her mum. She has memories and emotional ties that are intrinsically linked to the home Iain’s trying to sell from under her.’
‘Is it a deal breaker?’
‘No,’ Tara said, pulling back her shoulders to shift the weight pressing down against her chest. ‘But it’s going to make the next few months far more interesting than I would like. Now enough about me, tell me your news. How come you’ve taken the day off work?’
Tara had been pleasantly surprised when Faith suggested calling into the shop. They tried to meet up at least once a month between group meetings, but Tara had all but given up hope of finding time between one crisis and another.
‘I had a date with a man,’ Faith said, raising an eyebrow.
‘What for? A manicure? Pedicure? Indian head massage?’ Tara asked with a smile.
‘A quotation, actually,’ Faith said, pushing away her empty plate. Her smile disappeared. ‘Lily’s not the only one with emotional ties that are about to be cut. I told myself I had to do something about the house this year, and I’ve finally made a start.’
‘Are you selling up?’ Tara asked, unable to hide her shock. Faith talked about her house as if it were a shrine to her husband, and Tara couldn’t imagine her letting it go any more than she could imagine Faith letting go of the place Derek occupied in her heart.
‘Looking at things rationally, the house is too big for one person, and you never know, it might be fun living in some stylish city apartment with beautiful views.’ She took a moment to consider the possibility, then shook her head. ‘But no, Woolton is my home. I can’t leave.’
‘So explain. What was the quotation for?’
‘There are rooms full of furniture that have been left to gather dust,’ she said. ‘Assuming the antique dealer I met can improve his offer, and I’ll make sure he does, I can at least empty the rooms I don’t use. That way, if and when I do pluck up the courage to move, it should be less traumatic.’
‘One step at a time,’ agreed Tara.
‘And if Ella happens to notice, I might tell her I’ve donated all her family heirlooms to charity,’ Faith said, referring to her grown-up stepdaughter. ‘I doubt she’d care, but her mother would be apoplectic.’
Tara couldn’t believe some of the stories Faith had told her about Derek’s embittered first wife, Rosemary. Their daughter had grown up believing all the tales her mother had spun about her father, and sadly Ella and Derek had been estranged at the time of his death. Tara felt sorry for her, but as for Rosemary, any woman who continued to use her daughter to eke out revenge on a man long since dead deserved Faith’s spite. ‘You are wicked.’
‘I know,’ Faith said with a glint in her eye that faded as she looked over Tara’s shoulder. ‘Your stray lamb has arrived.’
After greeting April with a hug, Tara guided her towards the booth where Faith had remained seated. There was an awkward moment where April dithered, seemingly unable to decide if she should offer Faith a handshake or a hug, but, to Tara’s relief, Faith stood to embrace the new arrival.
‘Faith isn’t one of life’s huggers, but after three years of group therapy, we’re getting there,’ Tara quipped.
The two friends scowled at each other before Tara retreated to the counter to make April’s coffee. From the corner of her eye, she watched April take her seat opposite Faith.
‘I hear you’re an auditor,’ Faith said, raising her voice above the gurgle of the coffee machine. ‘We were hoping you’d cast an eye over the support group accounts to see if Justine’s been skimming something off the top.’
‘Actually, I’m an internal auditor so I deal more with governance issues, but I could take a look.’ April’s eyes were wide when she turned to Tara as she approached. ‘Is there a problem?’
Tara placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of April and took the seat next to her. ‘No, there isn’t. Justine’s far more likely to add money to our fund than take from it. Faith’s teasing and she really shouldn’t.’
Faith took the reprimand with a polite nod. ‘Sorry, that was mean of me, but I don’t like the way she’s been trying to overthrow Tara. Justine hates that Tara’s looked upon as the group leader while she’s left to do the admin.’
‘Which she does really well,’ Tara added in Justine’s defence.
Tara and Justine had been friends since school and had been there for each other during the most difficult times of their lives. Justine had been a source of great strength at Mike’s funeral, never guessing that she would be the next to wear the widow’s mantle three short months later when her wife died from sepsis.
Together, they had sought out an existing widows’ group, but they had stood out from the start. Tara was in her late twenties, Justine only thirty, and as much as the older women had welcomed them, their experiences of widowhood had been markedly different. There had been no talk of childcare, careers, or the pressure society placed on them to reinvent themselves. If anything, the others envied Tara and Justine’s youth and their potential to start anew.
‘And Justine doesn’t only manage the budget,’ continued Tara. ‘She takes care of all the social media, and puts a lot of time and effort into organising us all. I couldn’t do what she does, but someone could easily replace me.’
‘That’s not going to happen,’ said Faith.
Turning to April, Tara said, ‘I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. The group is a family of sorts and Justine is like a sister to me. There really isn’t a problem between us and if ever there was, I would deal with it.’ Tara knew Faith had good intentions, but she didn’t want anyone taking sides. There were no lines to be drawn, not on her behalf. To Faith she added, ‘So can we please leave her alone?’
‘Noted,’ Faith said as she and Tara locked eyes. The moment passed and they both relaxed as they turned their attention to April.
‘Can I tempt you with some cake?’ Tara asked.
‘I haven’t had much of an appetite lately,’ April replied, ‘but it looks beautiful.’
Ignoring the refusal, Tara cut a slice and left the plate within reach. ‘You can take some home for your mum and dad, if you like.’
‘You’re living with your parents?’ Faith asked. ‘Oh, sorry. I heard what happened to your husband. No wonder you moved out.’
‘I’m not sure I could have slept there again even if I’d tried,’ April agreed with a shudder. ‘And being looked after is probably what I need right now, but to be honest, I didn’t have a choice. Jason and I had been renting our flat, and I couldn’t afford it on my own. I had to rely on family to cover the cost of the funeral, and my first priority is to pay them back before looking for a place of my own. Jason didn’t have life insurance or a pension.’
‘It happens more often than you’d think,’ Faith said. ‘My Derek died in a car crash just over four years ago. He was twelve years older, so you’d think he’d be better prepared, but he’d cashed in his pension as part of the divorce settlement with his first wife. He left me his business, but I don’t know the first thing about imports and exports and most of his contracts were verbal. I was lucky to keep the house when the company folded and its assets were stripped. My parents died when I was a teenager, so there was no one to bail me out.’
Tara looked over the rim of her coffee cup. ‘Enough of the sob story. Tell her about the compensation.’
Faith’s expression was sheepish. ‘OK, so maybe my financial circumstances weren’t as dire as I’m making out. Derek’s accident was caused by a mechanical failure that was supposed to have been fixed. He’d taken his car back to the dealership several times, but my guess is they simply reset the warning light and charged us a small fortune for the privilege. I agreed an out-of-court settlement, but I’m starting to regret it. I could have taken them to the cleaners if I’d been in a better frame of mind, but I’d just lost my husband. Derek’s death was needless, that’s what hurts me most.’
‘That’s awful,’ said April. ‘And what a thing to go through while you were in mourning, although I can understand why you settled. It feels wrong moaning about the money side of things. It shouldn’t be important, should it?’
‘But it’s a reality we can’t ignore,’ Tara replied. ‘Life would be so much simpler if we could deal with the emotional and practical elements of grief separately, but when the worst happens, everything hits you at once. So yes, April, you are allowed to complain about the financial mess you’ve been landed with, to us and the group. And don’t feel guilty about being angry with Jason once in a while.’
April’s laugh was hollow as she pulled the slice of opera cake towards her. She teased a corner of the cake onto her fork and didn’t look up when she said, ‘I’ve been angry with him so much lately.’
Tara’s eyes narrowed. Her instinct had been right – there was more to her story than April had been able to share so far.
‘Do you want to talk about it? Was there something you needed to say at the group meeting but couldn’t?’
Above their heads, there was the roar of an aeroplane climbing to the skies and April finally lifted her gaze.
‘In the months before Jason died … he’d changed. He had been a constant in my life, and suddenly he wasn’t – it was like he was somewhere else, or maybe he just wanted to be. There were times when he wouldn’t look at me and other times when he couldn’t do enough.’
‘But you said at the meeting you thought his change in behaviour could have been linked to his brain haemorrhage,’ Tara said.
April shook her head. ‘It’s what I’ve tried to tell myself, but according to the doctors it would be unlikely. I think Jason was up to something.’
Faith was blunter, as always. ‘Was he having an affair?’
‘It crossed my mind at the time, but not enough for me to accuse him. There was nothing specific, and then shortly before he died everything seemed to right itself. Stupidly, I thought I’d got my old Jason back,’ April said, blinking away tears. ‘And I’m glad I didn’t say anything. He would have died believing I didn’t trust him.’
‘And if he was having an affair, chances are he would have denied it anyway,’ Faith replied.
‘Exactly, but now that he’s not around to challenge, my nagging doubt has become a full-blown obsession. Am I being paranoid? Is this some cruel side effect of grief?’ April asked. She continued to look at Faith: she would pull no punches.
‘We’re blessed with natural instincts for a reason,’ Faith said. ‘Only people with something to hide, or something to hide from, dismiss it as paranoia. Have you checked his messages? His emails?’
‘Yes, and I hated doing it, but I hated myself more when I couldn’t find anything more incriminating than Snapchat on his phone.’
‘Sorry for being a techno-phobe, but why would that mean anything?’ asked Tara.
‘Messages are time-limited. You don’t have to go to the trouble of deleting them and you don’t run the risk of leaving an audit trail behind if something unexpected happens to you,’ April said, mashing her cake with the fork. ‘As far as I was aware, Jason never used it, so why was it on his phone?’
‘And that’s one of the questions you’ve been left with that Jason can’t answer,’ Tara said, recalling April’s lament to the group.
‘It hasn’t stopped me looking,’ April said. ‘I was finally given online access to his bank accounts last month and I’ve been going through his statements line by line. I’m not sure, but I might have found what I was looking for. There were some biggish cash withdrawals before and after Christmas, and I know for a fact Jason hated using cash. I can only presume it was to avoid any record of his purchases.’
Faith leant over the table and took the fork and plate from April before she pebble-dashed them with ganache. ‘Was it enough to buy a hotel room?’
April shrugged, misery etched on her face.
‘I’m sure there are lots of other explanations,’ Tara suggested. She wondered if Jason might have been into drugs, although this theory was only marginally better than the possibility of an affair.
‘Do you have any idea who he might have been seeing?’ asked Faith, having already reached a judgement.
April didn’t answer immediately. ‘Not really, but what Steve said in the group about friends getting involved with other friends’ partners struck a chord. I look at my girlfriends and wonder if one of them is grieving more for Jason than she should. I’m tempted to come right out and ask each and every one of them, but I’m not sure that’s a particular rabbit hole I want to go down.’
‘I’d say that’s a good call,’ Tara said, taking April’s hand and giving it a squeeze. ‘You don’t need to come up with all the answers straight away. Take it one day at a time.’
April glanced down at Tara’s fingers. ‘Is that your wedding ring?’
‘Yes,’ she replied, lifting her right hand to examine the gold band. ‘I swapped it over when I was ready to accept that my future was no longer as Mike’s wife.’
‘Same here,’ Faith said, wriggling the third finger of her right hand.
‘Did you find someone else too?’ April asked.
‘No chance. Don’t get me wrong, I like the idea of love, and I’m over the moon for Tara and Iain, but it’s not for me, not any more. I prefer being in control of my own fate.’
‘I wish I could say the same.’
‘Oh, April,’ said Tara gently. ‘It’s early days and you have a lot to process.’
‘I know, and I can’t tell you how good it feels to talk about this at last.’ April paused and chewed her lip. ‘Will the rest of the group understand? Has anyone else gone through something similar?’
‘None of us had perfect marriages,’ Tara replied. ‘As much as I loved Mike, I spent a lot of time resenting him for stealing my dreams. I had every intention of moving to Paris until I found out I was pregnant. I’m not saying I didn’t love the life we made together, but there’s a reason I’ve created a little corner of Paris in Hale Village.’
Tara wasn’t sure if April noticed she had evaded the question, but Faith did.
‘And you don’t have to raise this in the group if you don’t want to. It’s none of their business, and besides …’ Faith reached over to squeeze April’s hand as Tara had done. ‘You have us.’
Tara couldn’t hold back her smile. She knew Faith would like April. ‘And it’s not as if the main group are ever short of things to talk about, so you’ll still have lots in common with them. You’re not alone, April. Not any more.’
RESPONSES
Petersj @Petersjhome
Replying to @thewidowsclub
I hope the police are investigating this so-called support group of yours. These were vulnerable people you were dealing with. The situation should never have been allowed to get out of hand.
Jodie @iamJPriestly
Replying to @Petersjhome @thewidowsclub
You’re out of order blaming the group. It’s been my lifeline and no one could have predicted what happened.
Leanne Thompson @LTReports
Replying to @iamJPriestly
Hi Jodie, I’m a freelance reporter and would love to hear your story. Can we meet?
Jodie @iamJPriestly
Replying to @LTReports
Fuck off Leanne
4 (#ulink_f20e3ef9-2064-5507-bc3e-b8d54f3e2be5)
The tap of stiletto heels ricocheted off the walls as Faith Cavendish surveyed the empty room. Behind her, she heard the soft wisp of socked feet and the scratch of pencil on paper.
‘Is that everything we agreed?’ she asked.
‘Looks like it,’ the man said, stuffing a tattered sheet of paper into his pocket. He was middle-aged, but his voice sounded older, with the telltale rasp of a smoker. ‘For a small fee, the lads could take those bags of rubbish too.’
Faith followed his gaze. ‘Those bags of rubbish are my husband’s clothes,’ she said, ‘and I’ll decide what to do with them in my own good time. We agreed a fee and I expect payment in full, no deductions.’
The man gave her a broad grin, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. It was a shame because he might be attractive if he were to take better care of himself, not that Faith was interested. The antique dealer’s only appeal was that he had offered the best price for furniture that had been in the house longer than she had.
‘I authorised the payment not ten minutes ago, Mrs Cavendish. It should be in your account if you’d like to check.’
Faith let him wait as she used her phone to access her account. Her balance looked satisfyingly healthy. ‘Fine, we’re done,’ she said.
As she led the way back out onto the landing, there was an echo to the house that hadn’t been there before. Three of the five bedrooms had been emptied during the course of the day, leaving only her bedroom and the home office untouched. She had convinced herself that she wouldn’t notice the difference, but she did. The house had been plundered.
Faith strummed her fingers on her crossed arms as she waited for the dealer to lace up his battered brogues at the front door. She regretted insisting that he and his workforce remove their shoes before entering the house. She wanted them gone, but this remaining invader showed no sign of leaving when he straightened up.
‘If you change your mind about the other pieces we talked about, let me know. I have a buyer who would snap up that dining table.’
‘I’ll bear it in mind.’
‘Or if there’s anything else I can do,’ he said. His grin suggested there was more than a business deal on offer. ‘I’m sure it’s a difficult time for you, but once you find a new place, give me a call.’
He raised his eyebrows expectantly. Faith had given him a sob story about losing her husband and needing to move out to clear his debts and the fool had swallowed it, hence the generous quote. He thought he’d sized her up; a lonely widow in need of a man to save her. How wrong he was on all counts.
She could tell him that she was more than capable of taking care of herself, that she had spent most of her life being happily independent before Derek swept her off her feet, but Faith didn’t explain herself to anyone. ‘As a matter of fact, I’ve already found a place,’ she said. ‘I’m moving to Marbella.’
His grin disappeared. Outmanoeuvred, the would-be Romeo stepped outside, but as he crossed the drive, he took one last cheeky look over his shoulder. ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to send me an invite when you’re settled in Spain?’
Refusing to dignify the comment with a response, Faith was about to shut the door when a woman stepped through the gates the dealer had been closing behind him. Faith’s stepdaughter, Ella, was in her late twenties but had none of the nonchalance of youth. Her back remained stiff as a board as she gave the antique dealer, the van, and then Faith a curious look.
‘You’re moving to Spain?’ she asked.
Reluctantly, Faith opened the door wider and invited Ella inside before the neighbours could hear any more of their conversation. Despite the tall shrubbery and expansive gardens, someone had been snooping: Ella’s arrival on the day a removals van was parked out front was no coincidence.
Derek had warned Faith that his divorce had been acrimonious but his ex-wife’s bitterness was something to behold. Rosemary had been particularly aggrieved that her ex-husband had kept the family home despite her agreeing to a generous divorce settlement and plundering funds that would one day cost Faith her widow’s pension. One or two neighbours had remained loyal to the first Mrs Cavendish, and Faith guessed she had Mr Newton next door to thank for Ella’s arrival. A wronged wife of twenty-odd years was always going to out-trump the usurper widowed after only six.
Faith placed her hands on Ella’s shoulders and air-kissed her on both cheeks. With a reassuring smile, she said, ‘I told him I was leaving the country just to get rid of him.’
Ella’s shoulders remained tense. ‘And who was he?’
‘An antique dealer. I thought it was time to declutter.’
‘You’ve been getting rid of stuff?’
‘I’ve emptied some of the bedrooms, that’s all.’
Ella’s eyes grew wide as her gaze travelled up the sweeping staircase. One of the emptied rooms had been Ella’s bedroom although she hadn’t stayed a single night in the house since the divorce. Derek had let her take everything that was hers and it had remained a rarely used guest room ever since.
‘Sorry, should I have warned you?’
‘I know it’s your furniture and you have a right to do what you want with it,’ Ella replied, ‘but …’
‘You don’t have to tell your mum,’ Faith replied, feeling a swell of sympathy for her stepdaughter, caught in the middle of a battle that was already won as far as Faith was concerned.
‘Can I take a look?’ Ella asked, hanging her coat on the polished oak newel post.
She took the stairs without waiting for a reply and disappeared into the largest of the three emptied rooms. Her old bedroom was bare apart from the bin bags the antique dealer had offered to take away.
‘I can’t decide what to do with those,’ Faith explained when she caught up with Ella. ‘If there’s anything you want, please take it.’
Unable to watch Ella tear open the bags, Faith pulled back a curtain and looked out across the gardens. The detached house was in a prime location in Woolton Village and although it was only six miles from Liverpool city centre, she could see more treetops than rooftops. Glimpsing the dense woodland that marked the boundary of Woolton Golf Course, she felt a pang of sadness as she recalled the raucous dinner parties she had hosted for Derek and his golfing buddies. Her heart suffered another blow when she turned to find Ella scavenging through the remnants of the life that had been wrenched from her.
‘It’s all his rubbish,’ Ella said, straightening up. ‘I don’t want any of it.’
‘Don’t be like that,’ Faith replied, clenching her jaw. ‘He cared a lot about you.’
‘Dad cared only for himself. You’re lucky he didn’t live long enough for you to work that out.’
This was Rosemary talking, not Ella, and any argument would be useless. There were times when Faith wished she could wash her hands of the whole family, but since Derek’s death, she and Ella had formed a friendship of sorts and for as long as Faith remained in this house, she was the curator of Derek’s legacy and his daughter was a part of that.
Faith tipped back her head and blinked hard before returning her gaze to Ella. ‘I loved your father,’ she whispered. ‘Can you at least respect my feelings?’
Ella looked down at the sleeve of a dark suit reaching out from the open neck of a bin bag. She prodded it with her shoe. ‘I’m sorry, but I hate to see you pining away for Dad. You deserve better,’ she said, her voice softening. ‘You know, moving to Spain might not be such a bad idea. Isn’t it time for a fresh start?’
Faith considered her response, knowing it would be reported back word for word. Amongst Rosemary’s many grievances was the terms of Derek’s will, which had seen the lion’s share of his estate left to Faith. What had they expected when Ella had effectively divorced her father in sympathy with her mother? The answer was obvious. They were waiting for a nice little handout should Faith sell up and move away. This was why Ella had been sent over. This was always why.
‘If I do move, you’ll be the first to know.’
‘So you are thinking about it? Is that why you’re emptying the rooms?’
Faith winced before she could disguise her feelings. She had expensive taste and in the last four years, money had been slipping through her fingers at an alarming rate. She had tried to cut back, going as far as taking a two-week cruise this year instead of the usual four, but it wasn’t enough, and the proceeds from the sale of furniture was no more than a stopgap. Not that she’d ever admit as much to Ella or anyone else for that matter.
‘Come on, let’s go downstairs. I’ve missed lunch and I’m ravenous,’ Faith said. ‘I saw my friend Tara the other day and she sent me home with the most delicious cake.’
‘I care about you, Faith,’ Ella said, not easily distracted. ‘You’re still young. You need to move on.’
‘Thank you for your concern,’ Faith replied, ‘but your efforts would be better spent helping Rosemary to move on. I’m happy where I am and as far as I’m concerned, the only way I’ll be leaving here is in a box.’
As Faith approached the village hall, she caught a glimpse through the window of Steve and a couple of the others rearranging the chairs for their meeting. The foyer meanwhile was devoid of life, although someone had been busy setting out mugs on the trestle table and there was a tower of pre-packaged muffins sitting next to them. Following the sound of a running tap, she found Justine in the kitchen: undoubtedly the culprit responsible for the supermarket fare.
‘Evening.’
‘Oh, hi, Faith,’ Justine said, her ponytail flicking like a horse’s tail as she turned. ‘Tara’s running late, I’m afraid, so I offered to come in early. Thankfully, my mum’s a godsend when it comes to childminding.’
‘A relief, I’m sure, but I can’t imagine it’s something you want to be doing every time,’ Faith replied.
Justine finished filling the kettle and set it to boil. ‘It’s no biggie. We all know Tara has her hands full at the moment,’ she said as she rinsed out the flasks. She had yet to take a pause and the point Faith was attempting to make sailed over her head.
Faith was about to try again when a deep voice close to her ear gave her a start.
‘Can I help with anything?’
She turned to find a stranger in their midst with dark brown hair and a sprinkling of grey at his temples. Dimples puckered his cheeks when he smiled, but it was his pale blue eyes that demanded Faith’s attention.
‘You came back then?’ said Justine. She went to shake his hand, but water dripped from her fingers and she grabbed the first thing she could find to dry them on. It was the tote bag with its cheesy quote that Faith hated. ‘Faith, this is Nick, one of our new members. Why don’t you get to know each other and leave me to it?’
‘Are you sure you can manage on your own?’ Faith asked.
Justine almost dropped a flask. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Honestly, go.’
Nick stepped back to allow Faith through the door and placed his hand close to but not touching the small of her back as they returned to the foyer. ‘Have you been involved with the group long?’ he asked.
‘About three years.’
They paused at a coat stand and Faith watched him slip out of his heavy woollen coat to reveal a dark grey suit that looked hand-stitched. ‘And how was your initiation into our little enclave?’ she asked.
‘Just what I needed,’ Nick confessed. ‘For the first time, I feel like I can grieve properly.’ He paused, momentarily distracted as he looked over Faith’s shoulder. ‘Ah, great. April’s made it back too. Let’s go over and I’ll introduce you.’
‘Not necessary,’ Faith said, and as they went to greet April, it was Faith who placed her hand on Nick’s back to guide him.
April appeared even more vulnerable than when they had first met, if that were at all possible. Her cheeks were hollow and her padded jacket made her look top heavy in comparison to her spindly legs wrapped in black Lycra. Faith didn’t normally warm to people who looked ready to break rather than bend in a storm, but there was something about April that resonated.
Whilst there had been no other woman in Derek’s life, Faith had felt betrayed by his death all the same. Derek had promised her a life of wedded bliss and she blamed him, in part, for making her a widow. Suing the car dealership had been her way of channelling that anger and frustration, but for April, they would need to find some other form of release.
Reaching her side, Faith went in for a hug just as April was slipping out of her jacket, and the embrace took her by surprise. When they untangled themselves, April was smiling.
‘I bet you didn’t expect to see me again.’
Faith spotted a damp autumn leaf stuck in April’s hair and pulled it off. ‘I would have hunted you down, if I hadn’t.’
‘Is Tara here yet?’
‘No, but she will be,’ Faith told her. ‘I take it you’ve met Nick.’
April was swallowed up in a second hug and kept her shoulders hunched when she pulled away.
‘I was wondering if I should have offered you a lift,’ Nick said.
‘Oh, no, it’s fine. I live all the way over in Eastham.’
‘It’s a nice place,’ said Nick. ‘Have you lived there long?’
‘Barring the time I lived with Jason, all my life. It’s my parents’ house,’ April said. ‘But I’m only staying there until I can afford to move out.’
‘I’m surprised you can’t. Didn’t you say your husband worked for one of the councils? The Merseyside Pension Fund is a good investment …’ His words tailed off and his mouth twisted. ‘I’m so sorry, that was completely inappropriate. I used to be an investment banker and I was forgetting where I was.’
‘Yes, you were,’ admonished Faith.
‘It’s OK,’ replied April, blushing on behalf of Nick. Her eyes narrowed when she added, ‘Unfortunately Jason opted out of the pension scheme when he started work, not thinking through the consequences of his actions.’
‘That’s men for you,’ added Faith.
‘On behalf of all mankind, I’m sorry,’ Nick said, holding Faith’s gaze until she gave in and smiled.
It was April who filled the pause. ‘I still haven’t worked out what to wear to these things.’ She pulled self-consciously at the hem of her man-sized Game of Thrones T-shirt, a memento from her marriage if Faith wasn’t mistaken. ‘I feel completely underdressed next to you two.’
‘Oh, don’t let this fool you,’ Nick said, loosening his tie. ‘I had to come straight from work.’
‘And what is it you do if you’re no longer in finance?’ asked Faith.
‘I run a fleet of limousines. Basically, I’m a glorified chauffeur.’
‘So you’re a businessman,’ Faith corrected. She didn’t agree with people underselling themselves.
‘Trying to be,’ he replied. ‘And what do you do, Faith?’
‘I’m a biomedical scientist: I examine human tissue and pick out the cancer cells from the normal ones.’ It was a skill she wished she could apply as easily to a person’s character. She was still trying to work out Nick, who wasn’t anything like she had imagined when Tara had described him. He didn’t look the type to cry, but she would like to see it.
‘And are you from the other side of the water too?’ he asked.
‘No, Woolton.’
‘We’re practically neighbours then. I’m from Hunt’s Cross.’
They compared notes on favourite eateries until Faith spied Justine carrying two flasks of hot water over to the tables. ‘About time too. Come on, let’s get our drinks.’
The three were temporarily separated as more people arrived and wanted to chat. While Jodie and Nadiya made a fuss of April, Faith kept an eye on the door, but as seven o’clock approached, Tara failed to make an appearance. Nick had been pulled into a conversation with Steve and some of the other men, but he returned to April and Faith when Justine began directing them to their seats like a traffic cop.
Faith ignored Justine’s instructions and laid claim to three chairs of her choice. She sat down on the first, but April and Nick became flustered when they both went to take the seat next to her.
‘Sorry, you take it,’ said Nick, the now familiar dimples appearing in his cheeks. ‘I don’t know why I’m so nervous.’
‘Me neither,’ April said.
In a show of chivalry, Nick took a step back and sat down on the third chair, leaving the gap next to Faith for April to fill, but before she could take it, she was distracted by the arrival of Tara and Iain. She turned to wave and by the time she turned back, Justine had claimed the much fought-after middle seat.
‘Shall we get started?’ Justine said loudly, seemingly unaware of April’s displacement.
‘Here, take my place,’ Nick said.
Before he could stand, Justine placed a hand on his arm. ‘It’s probably best that you stay close to me for the first few sessions. April, you can sit over there next to Tara.’
‘Apologies for being late, everyone,’ Tara said once they were all settled. She was out of breath but didn’t pause as she went on to open the meeting.
‘It’s good to see you back, Iain,’ Justine said the moment they had dispensed with the introductions and updates. ‘How are things?’
‘Challenging.’
‘Not because of me I should add,’ Tara added, causing a ripple of laughter around the room.
‘Definitely not you,’ he replied, taking Tara’s hand and giving it a squeeze. ‘The good news is our solicitor doesn’t see any reason why we can’t complete the house move before Christmas.’
‘Not that everyone will find that cause for celebration,’ Tara warned.
‘My in-laws aren’t particularly happy with our plans. They think it’s too soon,’ Iain said. For Nick and April’s benefit, he added, ‘It’s been three years since Joanna died and I’ll admit, it still hurts like hell. I didn’t plan to fall in love again, but I have and I’m ready to do this. Unfortunately my in-laws live in Newcastle so they don’t see the difference Tara has made to our lives.’
‘Has Lily come around to the idea yet?’ asked Faith.
‘She’s quietly accepting – more quiet than accepting if I’m honest,’ Iain said. ‘I just hope her grandparents don’t reverse what little progress we’ve made when she visits them over half-term.’
‘It’s funny how everyone has an opinion on how we should grieve,’ Jodie said. ‘First they’re telling you to get out more, and the next thing they want you to slow down.’
Faith guessed Jodie had a story to tell. One comment could send the group off on a tangent, but Tara was there to make sure they kept their focus on one issue at a time. She was good at that. Better than Justine.
‘Iain’s going to have a word with them beforehand to make sure they don’t give Lily mixed messages,’ Tara said. ‘With so much upheaval, what she needs from all of us is consistency. We’re hoping they’ll come around.’
‘I hate to say it but they’ll have to if they want to be a part of their granddaughter’s life,’ said Iain. ‘I know they’re grieving too, but Lily’s welfare has to come first.’
There were mumbles of agreement and a couple of members went on to share their experiences of juggling relationships with their late partners’ families, but once the subject had reached its natural conclusion, Tara turned to April and Nick.
‘And how have you both been since the last meeting?’
Of the two, Faith expected Nick to speak up, but he simply nodded for April to go first. To Faith’s surprise, his encouragement worked.
‘I’ve been better,’ April replied. ‘I’m still trying to work out how I feel and how I want to feel, if that makes sense?’
‘That’s the one thing you learn fast here,’ Nadiya said. ‘What you’re going through might sound confusing, alarming or downright weird to other people, but to us it’s normal. You’re not alone.’
‘I’m starting to realise that,’ April said. She glanced across to Faith when she added, ‘It’s a relief to know I don’t have to keep all my thoughts locked away, although I’m not quite ready to tell everyone everything.’
‘You can be selective,’ Faith said. ‘We all are.’
April pulled at her T-shirt. ‘It’s like when people ask if I’ve watched the final season of Game of Thrones yet and I feel stupid explaining why I can’t. Jason and I always watched it together, and I’m so angry that he died before the finale aired. I can’t watch it without him.’
The chair next to Faith squeaked as Justine straightened up. ‘Anger is perfectly natural, April,’ she said. ‘It’s one of the five stages of grief that we all process over time.’
‘Oh, please, not this,’ Faith muttered.
‘Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and finally, acceptance,’ Justine recited.
‘Not that everyone experiences grief in such nice, neat stages,’ Tara said diplomatically. Like Faith, she questioned the efficacy of applying that particular grief model like a Band-Aid.
‘Of course not,’ Justine said. ‘Some people don’t experience every stage, or not necessarily in that order, and it’s perfectly normal to go back and forth between the stages.’
‘Or to put it another way,’ Faith said, ‘you’ll experience a lot of different emotions to greater or lesser degrees and at random times. Some days you might go through all five stages at once, or is it seven now, I lose track?’
‘The stages are helpful to some people,’ Justine insisted.
‘I’m sure they are,’ Faith said through gritted teeth, ‘but for others it can be downright distressing, especially when someone with all the best intentions tells them that they should be at this particular stage or another. We are where we are. There’s no road map.’
‘Some of us seem to have become stuck on the anger stage,’ Justine said, jutting out her chin.
‘I have a lot to be angry about, Justine. Derek didn’t need to die.’
‘But at some point you have to move past that stage.’
‘And move on to bargaining? Give me a break.’
Unlike Justine, Faith’s understanding of the psychology of grief hadn’t come from a Sunday magazine supplement; in fact, she had read extensively on the subject. Returning to April, she said, ‘Did you know that the five-stage grief model was originally developed by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross after observing terminally ill patients? She expanded it later to include other types of loss but even she noted that popular culture had misunderstood her theory. The stages aren’t supposed to be linear or predictable, if they exist at all.’
‘I have heard quite a few people mention the stages I’m supposed to go through.’
‘Yeah, Mrs Do-goody down the road and the bloke who delivers the newspapers,’ Faith said.
She turned her head and was about to give Justine her best withering look when Nick caught her eye. She couldn’t tell if the spark in his eyes was fear or admiration. After taking a breath, Faith released it with a sigh. ‘Maybe I am holding on to my anger, but sometimes that’s what gets me through the day. All I’m saying is that theories are made to be disproved and there are scientists better qualified than me to offer alternative grief models.’
‘There’s one based on continuing bonds,’ Tara said, her soft voice adding balm to the discussion. ‘It’s where we redefine our relationship with our loved one, finding ways to keep them with us by allowing their influences to play a part in our new lives. There’s no end stage, no point where we have to find closure and put the past behind us. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, wondering if there’s a way for Lily and Molly to keep Joanna and Mike as a part of our new family.’
‘I can understand how Lily must feel having to move home,’ said Faith. ‘My beautiful house is the strongest connection I have with Derek, but if we’re talking about continuing bonds, his legacy goes far beyond the materialistic trappings of life. It broke my heart when I took the decision to withdraw his life support, but I made the right choice when I agreed to donate his organs. It comforts me to know four people are alive today because of him.’
‘I talk to my wife’s photo all the time and ask her advice,’ Steve said. ‘I can feel her pushing me out the door when all I want to do is lock myself away. It’s why I managed to drag myself here in the first place.’
‘And Justine and I would never have set up the group if it wasn’t for Mike and Lisa,’ Tara added. ‘Our paths have all taken a turn we never expected, but when we do something to challenge ourselves, it’s nice to be able to glance over our shoulders and say thank you, I did that because of you.’
‘Erin’s death devastated me.’ Nick was staring at the floor so he didn’t see every face turn in his direction. ‘After she died, I completely shut down,’ he continued. ‘I lost everything and that might have been her legacy, but she deserved better from me. She always did.’ He tried to continue but his voice caught in his throat. ‘Sorry.’
Justine reached over to touch his hand. ‘I’m sure Erin would be proud of you for being here.’
Nick straightened up as Justine pulled her hand away. ‘Actually, she’d probably tell me to man up. She said that a lot.’
‘That won’t do you any good here, mate,’ Steve told him. ‘It’s the one place where you don’t have to hide your feelings.’
‘I think that was part of the problem, but I’m happy to report I’ve been turning things around,’ Nick replied. ‘After losing my job, I put on loads of weight to the point where people stopped recognising me. Then I realised it was the one part of my life I could control, so I hit the gym and literally worked out my frustrations.’
‘I’ve tried working out,’ April said, ‘but I can’t say it made me feel any better.’
‘Give it time,’ Nick said. ‘I was lifting weights when I had this lightbulb moment about starting a limo business. I invested every last penny into it and, touch wood, it’s going well.’
‘As are you,’ Jodie said.
‘I have my moments. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to pull over so I can bawl my eyes out. But just in case anyone’s thinking of using my services, I don’t usually break down when I have passengers in the back.’
‘Letting loose my emotions while driving is my speciality,’ Steve admitted. ‘I have two teenage lads and the last thing they want to see is me snivelling.’
‘Thankfully, I don’t have kids,’ replied Nick, ‘but respect to those who have to deal with someone else’s grief as well as their own.’
When Nick glanced at Faith, she felt compelled to respond. ‘I have a grown-up stepdaughter, but I gave up trying to manage her feelings a long time ago.’
The comment was the perfect segue into the broader topic of difficult relationships, and nearly everyone had a contribution to make. By the time Iain returned to his problems with his in-laws, it felt like the conversation had come full circle and Tara suggested they break up early, leaving time for another coffee and Justine’s untouched muffins.
While Tara was cornered by Jodie, Faith went to join April in the foyer and Nick followed. They chatted for a while, but when the discussion turned to fitness regimes, Faith saw it as the perfect opportunity to leave them to it. She had unfinished business.
Justine was understandably wary when she was pulled to one side, but Faith’s expression was full of concern when she said, ‘These meetings appear so seamless but I was thinking about what you said before about juggling childcare. It made me appreciate the extra effort you’ve taken tonight,’ she said. ‘How are things at home? It must be tough.’
‘Oh, we manage.’
Faith leant forward. ‘Only manage?’
‘Well, let’s just say it’s not easy now that Isla’s graduated to secondary school. Two school runs before work are a daily challenge, I can tell you.’
‘No wonder the strain has been showing,’ Faith said, placing a hand gently on Justine’s arm. ‘You spend so much time supporting the newer members, it’s easy to forget that you need support too. I’m sorry if I was a tad harsh on you in the meeting.’
‘Oh gosh, it’s fine,’ insisted Justine. ‘If you can’t be honest and open in the meeting, where can you?’
‘The same applies to you, remember that,’ Faith said, her tone one of sympathy. ‘You must be worried about Tara. She’s another one with her hands full, and I know she thinks we could carry on without her but how would we fill the void? She’s been dropping hints about me taking over if she leaves. Can you imagine?’
Justine paled. ‘No, not really.’
‘Exactly, but I can’t see you coping on your own either. We need to look after both of you. Don’t suffer alone.’
‘That’s very kind of you, Faith, but I … I’m fine, honestly.’
Through the crowd, Faith spied Nick coming to join them. The timing was perfect. ‘That’s super,’ she said, releasing her grip on Justine’s arm. ‘Here, I’ll leave you two to it.’
She stepped away, but Nick pursued her.
‘I’m heading off,’ he explained, ‘but it was a pleasure meeting you, Faith.’
‘I’ll see you next month then.’
‘You couldn’t keep me away,’ he promised. ‘But I was thinking it might be an idea to set up a WhatsApp group.’
Faith wrinkled her nose. ‘We made a stab at using it at work, but all those pinging messages were so irritating. I muted all the conversations.’
‘I hope you won’t do that to me,’ Nick said, tilting the phone in his hand.
‘I can’t promise,’ Faith said. In the pause that followed, she realised he was waiting to take down her phone number. She reeled it out without thinking.
STATEMENT
The Widows’ Club @thewidowsclub
We are saddened by the distasteful remarks on social media and in the tabloid press but are unable to respond to criticism whilst the police investigation is ongoing. The incident was a tragedy and we ask that people be respectful.
5 (#ulink_4fa151fc-d9f6-59cf-8227-4ca71c0bc703)
April lay on her back listening to the rattle of raindrops hitting her bedroom window. Darkness pressed against her closed lids and tried to push her back towards sleep as she struggled to work out if she had to get up for work. The sun hadn’t risen, but that meant nothing. It was nearing the end of October and the days were getting shorter. Winter was on its way, which immediately laid a trail of languid thoughts towards Christmas.
They had bought a beautiful blue spruce last year and the memory of decorating the tree evoked the smell of woodland and the taste of mulled wine. Jason would recall only how he had picked pine needles out of his socks throughout January – except, April’s weary brain told her, he wouldn’t.
Pain stabbed at her heart, making April gasp, and she wrapped her arms tightly around her body. She stayed like that until she lost track of time and consciousness, but even as she slumbered, she was aware of the space in the bed next to her. When the duvet moved, she let out a whimper and was pulled into a dream not of her choosing.
Bright light flooded the room and April snapped her eyes open to catch sight of Jason jumping out of bed. Wearing only shorts, his skin glowed a healthy pink. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body and everything about him felt real. She needed him to be real.
‘You’re here,’ she said, her voice catching.
‘Of course I am. Where else would I be?’ he asked, looking around the flat they had shared together.
‘I thought …’ she began, raising herself on to her elbow. She didn’t want to mention his death for fear of breaking the spell. ‘I don’t know. I’m just glad you’re here.’
Jason’s features twisted. ‘You thought I was with another woman.’
‘I didn’t. I never—’
‘Don’t lie to me, April. Don’t lie to yourself,’ he warned. ‘How could you think I’d cheat on you? I don’t understand why you don’t trust me. What did I do wrong?’
‘You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me. I’m being paranoid. I’m sorry,’ she cried.
He fixed her with a stare. ‘Why do you hate me so much?’
‘I don’t. I love you.’
‘Liar,’ he snarled.
‘I’m not.’
‘Go on, spit it out. Tell me why you hate me.’
April drew herself up so she was kneeling on the bed. She had longed to confront Jason, and this was her chance.
‘Say it, April.’
‘Fine then!’ she yelled. ‘I hate you because you died! You’re dead, Jason! You lay down next to me and you just died. There was no goodbye. No warning.’ Her voice grew weaker. ‘You left me alone with your cold, dead body. It was horrible. It still is.’ She clawed at the bedclothes, but her anger was spent and only the pain remained. ‘The only person who could have helped me through something like that is gone. If you loved me so much, why do that to me? Why Jason?’
As quickly as it came, the vision dissolved and darkness filled the room. It filled April’s lungs too and she struggled for breath. Panic consumed her as she fought her way out of the dream, and with one final, shuddering gasp, she opened her eyes. She was no longer kneeling but lying on her back. Above her head in the gloom, she could make out the limp paper lampshade that hung in her old bedroom at her parents’ house.
Covering her face with her hands, April let the tears confined to her dream seep into the real world. She recalled her angry words and hoped she hadn’t screamed them out loud. She held her breath and listened, but there was no sound except the thudding of her heart, which skipped a beat when she felt movement beside her again. Something cold touched her cheek.
‘Oh, Jesus,’ she whispered, recoiling until she remembered who was in bed with her. She allowed herself a smile as a wet tongue licked away her salty tears. She could hear the thud of a tail hitting the mattress as she turned to face her companion. ‘You scared the shit out of me, Dexter.’
Since moving back home, her mum’s cockapoo had been allowed to break the house rules and sleep upstairs. He was meant to guard against April’s nightmares, but the dog’s nocturnal movements had been responsible for the dark path her mind had just taken her down.
With Dexter’s head resting on her chest, April threaded her fingers through curls of fur and sought to hold on to the silvery threads of the dream she ought to let go. She had told Jason she hated him and she had meant it. She did hate him, or at least she hated the dead Jason. He had every reason to be mad with her. She was doubting him, and she couldn’t be sure he deserved it.
Joining the group had made April look at her grief with a more critical eye, and each member had offered a different perspective. She hadn’t been sure what to make of Faith at first. She wasn’t as warm or as open as Tara, but there were times when April caught a reflection of her own grief in Faith’s eyes. The difference was that Faith didn’t try to hide the kind of fury that April could only acknowledge in her dreams.
Whether it could be called a stage of grief or not, anger was a very real part of April’s grieving process, as were the doubts she nurtured about Jason’s character. She wanted to hate him, and convincing herself that he had been unfaithful was a neat way to validate that rage. She needed to be more like Faith and be honest about that. She had audited Jason’s life and found nothing more than a handful of cash withdrawals. It was another change of behaviour that could be linked to what was going on in his brain. Doctors didn’t know everything. It was time to let go of this idea that Jason wasn’t worth breaking her heart over.
Turning onto her side, April snuggled up to Dexter, and the malleable mutt obliged by spooning with her. The soporific sound of the dog’s snoring relaxed April’s body and mind. She smiled, having finally worked out that it was Saturday and she could doze a little longer before paying a visit to the cemetery to make an overdue apology.
Taking the path around the side of the church, April filtered out the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bleat of a car horn, and concentrated only on the crunch of autumn leaves underfoot. She and Jason hadn’t been churchgoers, but his parents had wanted him buried here and it was one less decision for April to make when there had been so many others being forced upon her.
Eight months on, some decisions were yet to be made. Moving back home was meant to be a temporary arrangement and, whilst her parents were happy to keep her in the nest to rest her wings, April was no fledgling. Her so-called messiness clashed with their organised clutter, her binges on box sets were countered by daily doses of soap drama, and the rock music that got her moving in the morning chimed against the murmurings of Radio Four.
She envied her fellow group members who had a vision of what their new lives should look like, whether or not they were there yet. Even Nick had some idea of where he was going and what he wanted to achieve, and he had looked surprised and saddened when she had mentioned living with her parents. Every one of them was a survivor, while in contrast April remained a victim, trapped beneath the wreckage of a life that had collapsed around her. To escape, she had thought she needed to dismantle everything, including her marriage, but after her most recent nightmare, she realised she had gone too far.
April passed the ramshackle rows of headstones nearest the church without pausing to read the weather-worn names of the husbands and wives whose cherished memories had been eroded by time. The section of the graveyard reserved for its newest committals was hidden from view by a row of firs, but, as April approached, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.
Her pace slowed and the crunch of leaves became a whisper lost to the soughing of the evergreens. No one would hear her approach and, as she dipped beneath the shade of a tree, she tensed, preparing for that first glimpse of Jason’s imagined lover. Wisps of her dream floated through her mind until tears blurred her vision. She was looking for someone who didn’t exist.
The white marble of Jason’s headstone sparkled in the sunshine but offered no warmth as April trailed a finger across her husband’s name. She knelt down in front of the patch of earth where his cremated remains had been interred, marked by a square of marble filled with pale frosted pebbles and a spray of white lilies. On another day, April might have questioned who had left them, but not today. They could only be from his mum, who made regular visits to tend his grave, although April doubted Jason would appreciate the flowers. He would much prefer the bottle of beer she took from her pocket and placed upright in front of the headstone.
‘I don’t know if you played any part in my dream this morning,’ she whispered, ‘but you need to know that I don’t hate you. I hate that everything in my life has to be transformed into something other than us. I hate that you left me, Jay.’
April stroked the velvet petals of a lily and when her fingertip pricked on the calling card, she told herself that turning it so the writing faced her was accidental. The message was from a mother to her beloved son, as April knew it would be. The futile search for tokens left by another woman had to stop.
‘I took what we had and tried to turn it into something I’d gladly throw away. I didn’t want to think about how happy you made me,’ she said as tears slipped down her face unchecked. ‘But you did make me happy.’
April poked at the flower spray. The edges of the lilies were yellowing, and a couple had grown limp and brown. She suspected Jason’s mum would return tomorrow with a fresh spray, but April didn’t want to leave decaying flowers on his grave. Her shoulders shook as she picked out the dead blooms from the arrangement.
‘I love you, Jason and I know you loved me. Please forgive me. I’m so sorry.’
April went to cover her face with her hands, but the movement unbalanced her and she fell forward. She grabbed hold of the marble border and stared downwards past the lilies, as though she could see through the earth to the small oak box containing ash and broken dreams.
‘I miss you so much,’ she cried over and over as her tears trickled down her nose and splashed onto the thinned-out spray of bruised petals. Still sobbing, she pushed the arrangement out of the way and sank her hands into the misshapen pieces of smooth glass mixed with dead leaves and the detritus of a summer Jason had never seen. She grabbed handfuls of the pebbles and watched helplessly as they slipped through her fingers.
As one particular stone dropped, she noticed it was whiter than the rest, and when she picked it up again, it didn’t feel as cold. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she realised the pebble wasn’t glass at all. White and smooth, it appeared to be a flattened oval, but as April explored its circumference with her fingers, she noticed a dip in the centre of one of its longer edges. Turning it on its side, there was no mistaking the shape of a heart.
Squinting, April examined every millimetre of the stone. She rubbed her thumb over one side and felt a roughness that wasn’t on the other. There was a scratched engraving so faint it was difficult, but not impossible to read with the naked eye: April stared at it long enough for her tears to dry.
Her nose was blocked and her throat hurt each time she attempted to swallow back the lump of dread. This token of love had not been dropped casually, or placed gently on her husband’s grave. It had been buried out of sight. It was a gesture to be shared privately between the giver and the man whose remains lay beneath the dirt. April wasn’t meant to see it.
After months of torturing herself with guilty thoughts of betrayal, April had visited the cemetery to bury her doubts, but instead she had unearthed a secret. The warm stone burned her palm and she was tempted to hurl it across the rows of headstones and into oblivion where it belonged, but instead she dropped it into her pocket.
Her breath came out in short, shallow gasps as she fought to contain the anger and the pain. She brushed off the mud clinging to her jeans and glared at Jason’s headstone, too angry to speak. She was about to walk away when she caught sight of the bottle of beer she had left. She picked it up and in a move Jason had taught her, used the corner of the headstone and the side of her hand to knock off the bottle top. The beer tasted as bitter as her thoughts.
6 (#ulink_0258b270-30bc-55c0-8a47-7bfd6803606f)
The fluffy dog sprinting across Pickering’s Pasture towards Tara looked like a Steiff teddy brought to life, with its tongue lolling and ears flapping. At the end of a rapidly extending leash was April, one arm stretched forward and the other trailing behind. Tara made the mistake of bending forward to greet the dog and he ploughed straight into her.
‘Oh Tara, I’m so sorry,’ April panted as she caught sight of the muddy paw marks smeared over her caped coat. ‘Dexter, will you sit still for one minute. I said sit!’
Dexter emitted an excited whine but otherwise ignored his mistress and continued to add streaks of ochre to the velvety blue of Tara’s coat. ‘It’s fine, it’s only second-hand,’ Tara said, choosing not to use the word vintage.
April’s cheeks burned as she pulled a bag of dog treats from her pocket. The cold breeze carried the scent, and with the next command, Dexter sat down and wriggled his bottom into the earth as he waited for his reward.
‘He doesn’t deserve this,’ April muttered as she threw a treat into the air for Dexter to catch. ‘He’s good most of the time but he only really listens to Mum.’
‘He’s unbelievably cute. Molly would be beside herself.’
‘I thought you might bring her with you.’
‘It’s half-term so she’s spending a few days at Mum’s while Lily’s visiting her grandparents in Newcastle. They’ll both be back for Halloween, but for now I’m enjoying some child-free time. And besides,’ Tara added, ‘I got the impression from your messages that you might prefer to talk without the interruptions of a squealing ten-year-old. So how are you?’
April yanked the lead to stop Dexter launching himself at Tara again and said, ‘Maybe we should start walking.’
‘OK, but let’s stay within sight of the car park for now. Faith shouldn’t be long.’
As they made their way down a sloping hill to the footpath that followed the banks of the Mersey, Tara expected April to explain what was behind her invitation to take a Sunday stroll, but instead she asked, ‘How’s the house move going?’
‘We’re on target to complete contracts by early December,’ Tara replied, rubbing her jaw. It had been aching for days and she suspected she was grinding her teeth in her sleep. ‘Six weeks and counting.’
‘I’m so happy for you,’ April said, but her voice cracked. Recovering quickly, she added, ‘Are the girls excited yet?’
‘We’re making progress of sorts. Molly made me an offer the other night that I couldn’t refuse.’
As April turned to Tara, she held up a hand to shield her face from the low sun. Dark shadows bruised her eyes. ‘Why do you make it sound like that’s a bad thing?’
‘We had a bit of a conundrum with the new house,’ Tara began. ‘Of the two bedrooms for the girls, one is a double and the other a tiny box room. Iain suggested they draw straws and when Molly won, Lily said she didn’t care, she would go and live with Joanna’s parents. The whole thing was about to degenerate into a family meltdown when Molly quietly suggested that she didn’t mind taking the smaller room if it meant Lily would stay … and if I agreed to get her a dog for Christmas.’
‘Wow, she’s some negotiator.’
‘I’ve told her I’ll only consider getting some sort of pet when we’re settled, and she seems happy with that for now.’
‘And Lily?’ asked April.
‘We’ll see what happens.’
‘It’s the unknown that scares her.’
‘It scares us all,’ Tara replied as they reached the river’s edge. ‘What’s wrong, April?’
Her friend looked across the water towards Ince Marshes where the brutal industrial landscape cut into the horizon. ‘Maybe we should wait for Faith.’
‘Did someone mention my name?’
Dexter had been digging up sods of earth on the embankment, but stopped at the sound of a new voice. His hindquarters tensed as he prepared to launch himself at Faith, who was wearing a full-length woollen coat in a beautiful shade of olive green.
Faith peered at the dog over the rim of her sunglasses. ‘Down!’ she said in a low growl.
Dexter pressed his body to the ground while April’s jaw dropped. ‘Here, you take him,’ she said, offering the leash.
‘Good grief, no. I can’t stand dogs. I’m more of a cat person.’
‘I didn’t know you had any pets,’ April said.
‘I don’t, but if I had to choose, it would be a cat. They seem less needy.’
‘You make a good point,’ Tara said as she watched Dexter slink away from Faith to hide behind April. His lower half was caked in mud and he no longer looked like a teddy bear that anyone would want to cuddle. Perhaps she should have brought Molly with her.
‘Which way should we go?’ asked April when Dexter resumed tugging on his leash.
They had the option of walking upriver for a closer view of the bridges spanning the Mersey at Runcorn, but Tara turned her back on the sun, and they set off on the path that skirted the edge of the pasture and led to an ancient duck decoy cut out of the salt marshes to attract water fowl. ‘We might be able to spot Hale lighthouse across the marshes.’
‘I imagine this would be quite a nice route for a jog,’ said Faith.
‘You’re taking up running?’ asked April.
‘No, I meant for you,’ Faith replied. ‘You seemed very interested in Nick’s fitness regime. I thought you two might have formulated a plan by now.’
Faith’s comment sounded innocent, but Tara picked up an undertone. Did she think there was something developing between the group’s newest members? Tara had seen April and Nick talking after the last meeting, but when she had gone over to join them, April had looked relieved to have the extra company. If there was any interest, it was one-sided.
‘He hasn’t been pestering you, has he?’ asked Tara.
April’s laugh held no mirth. ‘No. And how could he? He doesn’t have my number.’
‘But he—’ Faith snapped her mouth shut before she could finish her sentence.
‘What?’ demanded Tara. ‘You didn’t give it to him, did you?’
‘Of course not,’ she said. It wasn’t often that Faith was wrong-footed, but she sounded unsure when she added, ‘He mentioned setting up a WhatsApp group, that’s all, and I presumed you’d all swapped numbers.’
‘He never mentioned it to me. Do you think he needs more support than a monthly meet-up?’ asked Tara. ‘According to Justine, his only family is one sister. Could he be reaching out?’
‘He’s not shown any interest in going over to the pub whenever Steve’s asked,’ April said. ‘I get the impression he’s the type who prefers women’s company.’
Tara was inclined to agree. Nick did appear more at ease talking to the female members of the group, in fact she could remember him making a point of saying goodbye to Faith. She could see Nick with his phone in his hand. ‘Did he ask you for your number, Faith?’
She huffed rather than give an answer. ‘Was there a point to coming out today? I thought you had some news for us, April.’
When April dug her hand into her pocket, Dexter’s ears pricked at the rustle of the treat bag, but the object she pulled out was smooth and white.
‘I found this on Jason’s grave,’ she said, unfurling her fingers.
The three women stopped to gather around April’s open palm. Her hand shook, not least because Dexter had lost interest in them and was straining on his leash again.
‘Here give me that,’ Faith said, taking the leash and yanking it hard. ‘Hey, you!’
Dexter froze immediately. The leash relaxed.
‘Come here, sit down, and be quiet.’
The dog crept towards her, tail between his legs.
‘I said sit!’
White crescent moons rimmed the dog’s eyes as he sat down and gazed up at Faith. For the moment at least, they could concentrate on the object in April’s trembling hand.
‘What is it?’ asked Tara.
April lifted the stone between her finger and thumb and turned it from side to side so it caught the light. ‘It’s a heart,’ she said. ‘I found it on Jason’s grave. Someone had hidden it there.’
‘Can I?’ asked Faith. She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and held the stone inches from her nose. Her eyes narrowed. ‘Are those random scratches, or could it be writing?’
‘I’ve been staring at that bloody thing all night,’ admitted April. ‘I can make out a J and what might be a T for Jason’s initials, but it’s in the middle, so maybe it’s a plus sign.’
‘I think it’s a plus sign,’ agreed Faith, ‘and there are more scratches to the left of it, but that’s harder to read. Is it an S?’
‘It could be,’ April said with a shrug.
Taking back the stone and the leash from Faith, April set off again and the others followed. Dexter kept checking for Faith’s approval. He was no longer leading the pack.
‘It doesn’t matter what the scratchings say, at least not completely. It’s what they represent. Jason plus someone else – someone who isn’t me,’ April said. ‘I’d almost convinced myself I was being paranoid and the cash withdrawals meant nothing. What an idiot am I? Totally trusting while he was alive and still ignoring what my subconscious has been screaming at me for the best part of a year.’
‘I’m so sorry, April,’ said Tara. She wanted to put an arm around her, but Faith was between them and as yet, she hadn’t realised that April needed the human touch.
‘I notice neither of you has said there’s some other explanation.’
‘It’s possible the stone ended up on Jason’s grave by accident,’ Faith said, digging her hands into her pockets. ‘A child could have picked it up from another grave and discarded it in the wrong place. But, when you consider the coincidence that the inscription includes the letter J, together with the bank account evidence and the doubts you had before Jason died, it does make for a compelling case.’
‘What about you, Tara? What do you think?’
Tara walked in silence for a while. She wanted nothing more than for April to find some form of resolution and the simplest and least painful way for that to happen was to give up on the idea that Jason had secrets. Unfortunately, the heart-shaped stone pointed down a rockier path. ‘No amount of talking is going to convince you one way or the other,’ she said. ‘You claim the letter that might be an S doesn’t matter, but is there a name that springs to mind?’
‘I don’t know everyone in Jason’s life, particularly his working life,’ April said. ‘I never audited the Highways Section because of the conflict of interest. I’ve met some of the staff, and I’m friends with a few, but Jason was on site a lot of the time and he dealt with all kinds of contractors.’
The tone of April’s voice was off. Faith picked up on it too. ‘But is there someone you do know?’
‘I could list a dozen,’ said April. ‘There’s a Sophie and a Siobhan, two Staceys, a Suzanne. Shall I go on?’
There was one name Tara noticed was missing. On the day she had visited April’s office, she had spoken to one of her colleagues. The woman had apologised on April’s behalf for nearly knocking a couple of cake boxes out of Tara’s hand, and had appeared desperately concerned – or had it been a severe case of guilt? Her name was Sara, and she had been heavily pregnant. Little wonder April wouldn’t want to consider her a suspect.
As their pace quickened, April looked out across the river. The milky sunlight gave the water a pearlescent quality, while the land on the other side was painted in layers of varying shades of grey. There were church spires and other signs that the industrial landscape they were following had given way to gentler scenes. ‘I think that’s Eastham over there,’ she said.
Tara remained quiet, as did Faith.
‘There are some lovely places to visit. I could take you to Eastham Country Park some time. Jason and I were always borrowing Dexter so we could go for long walks and have brunch in the Mimosa Tea Garden,’ she said, a wavering smile on her face.
‘It sounds lovely,’ Faith said with a heavy dose of cynicism.
‘We were happy,’ she replied, her steps faltering. ‘And I don’t understand why he would risk that for someone else. Yes, I could go through his phone and pick out women’s names beginning with S, or any other letter you care to choose, but pretty much all of them are in my contacts list too. It doesn’t make sense. Not one of them would be worth risking what we had. Not one.’ She pursed her lips together and they trembled.
Tara willed Faith to put an arm around April or do something, anything, to let her know that she wasn’t alone. When it became apparent this wasn’t going to happen, she moved behind Faith and pushed her out of the way so she could slip an arm around April’s waist.
‘It’s a lot to take in and you’ll need time to process how you feel and plan what to do next,’ Tara said.
‘But where do I go from here?’
‘You’re the auditor,’ Faith piped up. ‘Do some more digging.’
Tara gave her a look, eyebrows raised. You’re not helping. In response, she imagined eyes being rolled behind Faith’s shades.
‘You don’t have to rush into anything,’ Tara continued. ‘Take it slowly. And keep talking to us.’
‘I will,’ April replied. They had reached the westerly edge of the pasture and were close to the hide where they could look out over the duck decoy, but April was already glancing back in the direction of the car park. ‘But I’ve kept you long enough. I don’t mind heading back.’
Tara had a million and one other things to do, but she wasn’t going to pack April off home if she still needed them. ‘I don’t mind,’ she said, withdrawing her arm so her friend could decide which path to take.
April did an about turn and her friends followed suit. Dexter was the last to notice, and hurried to catch up. He almost tripped Tara up as he wove through a forest of legs to be at Faith’s heel.
‘I think he likes you,’ April said as she untangled the leash.
‘I have a knack of attracting unwelcome attention,’ she mumbled.
RESPONSES
Alex Butterworth @AlBut4550
Replying to @thewidowsclub
Your group has something to hide, no wonder you don’t want anyone talking. From what I’ve read, there were a lot of arguments.
Jodie @iamJPriestly
Replying to @AlBut4550 @thewidowsclub
The papers are making it up. You have no idea what you’re talking about.
Alex Butterworth @AlBut4550
Replying to @iamJPriestly @thewidowsclub
They’re not making up a murder though, are they love?
7 (#ulink_7dc640d4-f31d-5aaa-ac79-a1c5949ab9e9)
Jason had been dead nine months, which perversely was the time it took to create a life; unless you were a widow; unless you had discovered your marriage was a sham. April’s life could only be described as barren, although she hid it well. She ate when she wasn’t hungry, slept although sleep was never peaceful, and rationed her display of emotions so as not to alarm anyone. The hardest part of her performance was in front of Jason’s parents. She kept in regular contact, and whenever she spoke to his mum, her feelings became confused. They cried together and shared the sense of loss that April otherwise denied herself since discovering the stone on Jason’s grave.
With the November support group meeting still over a week away, work was April’s only refuge from troubled thoughts, but apparently not today. There was a cooing sound coming from the other side of the office that April studiously ignored. She had been over to say hello to Sara and smiled pleasantly at the six-week-old baby being passed from one clucking colleague to the next. It was only when the youngest member of the team, Georgie, was about to hand it to April that she had bolted back to her desk.
April had a lot of work to do. For months she had been assisting rather than leading reviews, but it was time for the team to stop carrying her. She had convinced her manager she was ready to tackle one of the departmental reviews that had slipped in the last year and she had been disappointed not to be given the Highways Section – it wasn’t as if Jason worked there any more – but she was looking forward to losing herself in an audit of the staff attendance system.
Choosing a cross-section of employees to sample for her review was proving difficult, and the arrival of Sara and the baby had made it doubly hard. Her assignment was simply to confirm that time adjustments had been authorised, but an opportunity had presented itself. Faith had told her to keep digging, and that was what she would do.
April blocked out the background noise and stared at her screen. She had gathered a few names on her list so far and most were random selections, but not all. She needed to know what Jason had been doing behind her back and how he had found the time to get up to no good. They went to work together and they went out as a couple. There were only a handful of occasions she could recall in those last months when Jason had socialised without her, but if any of those nights had been a cover story, he had been thorough. There had been his team’s Christmas meal and a few nights out with the lads, but all were documented on Facebook with photos as evidence. April had checked.
The only conclusion she could reach was that his illicit affair had taken place during the working week, which meant the council’s attendance system must hold a vital clue. That was why Jason Thorpe’s name was top of her sample list, but she didn’t have to stop there. It was entirely possible that Jason had sneaked off work to see someone completely unconnected with the council, but since she was looking anyway, why not add a scattering of female employees whose first name began with S? What harm could it do?
The baby had started to cry and the sound played on every one of April’s nerves. Its mother, however, was less perturbed. Sara handed a soother to Georgie and left her holding the baby while she made her way over to April.
‘I hope we’re not disturbing you,’ she said.
‘Don’t worry, I can work through anything.’
Georgie glanced over at them. She was rocking the baby with a growing sense of panic. It – he – was still crying. Sara had called him Fred. She was anything but conventional.
‘That’s not what I meant,’ Sara said. ‘If this is upsetting for you, we can go.’
April’s hands were splayed over the keyboard and one finger sought out the letter S. ‘Can I ask you something, Sara?’
‘Sure,’ she said, drawing closer. Her hand came to rest on a stack of print-outs piled up on the corner of April’s desk. On top of the pile was a white stone.
‘How well did you know Jason?’
When Sara’s fingertips sought out the curves of the love token, April’s pulse throbbed against her ears.
‘I knew him well enough to know not to be left at the bar whenever he ordered a round of shots,’ Sara said, recalling one of their notorious nights out.
‘He did pay you back, didn’t he?’
‘With interest,’ Sara said as she spun the stone 360 degrees. ‘What’s this about, April? Is there something particular you’re after?’
April held her friend’s gaze. ‘I sometimes wonder how well I knew him, that’s all. There are definite gaps.’
‘I’m no expert on grief, but maybe now that you can’t make new memories with Jason, you want to hear ones you haven’t heard before from other people.’
When Sara glanced down at the stone, April’s heart skipped a beat, but there was no flicker of recognition on her friend’s face. Sara was oblivious to the object’s meaning.
‘Yeah, something like that,’ April agreed, resting her back against her chair and allowing her shoulders to relax.
‘Have you talked to any of his mates? What about Callum? I’m sure he could tell a story or two, and Bree worked with Jason.’
‘No,’ April said, rejecting the idea with a shake of the head. It was possible that the pair had tales to tell, but Callum and his wife Bree had been Jason’s friends more than hers and would never break his confidence. They would think they were protecting her. ‘We’ve let our friendship drift and besides, going out with them was always a couples thing.’ Forcing her tone to lighten, she added, ‘I don’t think it would look good if I suggested a threesome!’
‘Never say never,’ Sara said. ‘Not that I’d know. There’s only one person interested in these boobs.’
‘He is beautiful,’ April said, glancing over at the baby in Georgie’s arms. She was tempted to take a closer look, no longer fearing the prospect of finding a reflection of Jason staring back at her. How awful was she to think that Sara would betray her like that?
But Jason had betrayed her, April reminded herself. And he hadn’t done it alone.
‘Do you want a hold?’ Sara asked. She had that proud mother expression when she added, ‘He’s quite cute when you get used to him.’
‘I’d love to but …’
‘You don’t have to explain,’ Sara said. ‘And if you ever need to talk, I’m always at the end of the phone.’
‘I don’t deserve friends like you,’ April said, her bottom lip quivering. ‘You’ve had your own troubles this past year and I haven’t even asked you about Connor. Has he made an appearance yet?’
‘He’s seen Fred and he’ll be a part of his son’s life whether he wants it or not. We’re fine. Don’t worry about us.’
‘I will try harder to be a better friend,’ April promised.
To prove her commitment, April returned to her computer once Sara had left her alone, and deleted her friend’s name from the list. There were people she could still trust, and she prayed she was making the right choices.
8 (#ulink_fa8e44d1-3f86-58b0-ac8c-8be9ad2e98ca)
The buzz of the hedge trimmer set Faith’s teeth on edge as she set about cutting back the leylandii conifers that had grown at least another foot since her gardener, Leon, had tackled it earlier in the year. The hedge divided the land at the rear of the property from that of the neighbours, and she liked it to be high enough to shield her from prying eyes without leaving the rest of the garden in shade. Leon had made the job look easy.
It was Derek who had employed him, and Faith had continued with Leon’s services for as long as she could, but sacrifices had to be made and she had taken the difficult decision to cut back his hours. For appearances’ sake, Leon continued to maintain the front gardens, but Faith was no stranger to hard work and could take care of the rest. If by chance Mr Newton caught a glimpse of her cutting back the conifers, he would see only a figure dressed in black, wearing a baseball cap. He would never presume it was the second Mrs Cavendish.
If anything, pruning the hedge was a novel form of exercise, and Faith had convinced herself it was fun until the rotating blades of the trimmers snagged on a gnarled branch and she lost her balance. She stretched out her arms instinctively to stop herself from falling off the stepladder, and her grip on the trimmers loosened. With her finger still on the trigger, it arced forward and the whirring blades narrowly missed slicing into her thigh. She held back the cry for fear of being overheard, but the near miss left her shaken. She wept angry tears as she hacked at branches that she would not allow to defeat her.
When the job was done and the cuttings cleared away, Faith returned to the house, grabbed a bottle of Chablis from the kitchen, and dragged herself upstairs. She filled a deep bath and added a generous measure of her prized Jo Malone bath oil, because today she deserved it. Stripping off the cheap supermarket clothes she had been wearing, Faith sank beneath the suds and felt her old self return.
With Brahms playing in the background and her wine within easy reach, Faith leafed through a travel brochure. For as long as she cared to remember, planning a holiday was her way of surviving the pre-Christmas frenzy, and a couple of travel reps had been in touch already, having noticed their most loyal customer had yet to book her next trip. Faith had kept them dangling and there was no suggestion that she might forgo a holiday next year. It was something Faith had yet to admit to herself.
A two-week cruise around the Norwegian fjords took her fancy and as she folded the corner of the page, her phone rang. Her thumb hovered over the red decline button as she took a sip of wine. With an exasperated sigh, she accepted the call.
‘Hello, Ella,’ she said affably.
Faith’s stepdaughter had made numerous attempts to call her over the weekend but irritatingly hadn’t left a voicemail. Her persistence, combined with Faith’s curiosity, had finally paid off.
‘I’m glad I caught you at last. I was getting worried.’
‘Ah, sorry about that. I treated myself to a little pamper weekend with friends,’ Faith said as she put down her glass and flexed her hand. Her attack on the garden had cost her a couple of broken nails, and her skin had acquired a roughness she didn’t like. With the money she had saved today, maybe she could afford a spa.
‘I hope you had a good time,’ Ella replied after a slight hesitation, as if she detected the lie.
Faith wouldn’t be surprised if Mr Bloody Newton had a telescope trained on the house, but no matter. A fib told with confidence was far more compelling than whispering truths.
‘Who knew a few days’ relaxation would be so exhausting?’ Faith said with a yawn. She lifted a leg out of the water and watched rivulets of scented oil glide over her skin and caress her tired muscles. ‘It’s probably my body’s reaction to all that pummelling and prodding. Those Swedish massages are brutal.’
‘I can imagine,’ Ella said, possibly convinced. Possibly not. ‘As long as you’re looking after yourself.’
If Faith didn’t do it, who would? Derek was gone.
She closed her eyes to staunch unexpected tears; she was stronger than this. She was a survivor and could face whatever life threw at her, even if it was getting harder. Only this week she had discovered that her department would face yet another reorganisation. It was an occupational hazard and, whilst Faith was good at defending her corner, it would invariably mean more duties being heaped upon her. She had no interest in acquiring new skills, she had adapted enough in her life.
Faith took another sip of wine and painted a smile on her lips loud enough for Ella to hear. ‘So what can I do for you?’
‘I have some news. Jack and I have set a date for our wedding. It’s next July.’
‘Oh, how lovely,’ Faith said. It was a brave step for Ella, considering that her mother was testament to how a marriage could fail, and Faith wasn’t exactly a good advert either. She wished her well.
‘It’s only going to be a small affair, but we would love it if you would come.’
‘I wouldn’t miss it.’
‘I’ll hold you to that,’ said Ella.
Faith couldn’t think of anything worse than an intimate wedding breakfast where Rosemary would deliver the speech in the stead of the father of the bride. Glancing at the travel brochure resting on the edge of the bath, she wondered if the wedding was the justification she needed for one last escape.
She yawned again. ‘Sorry.’
‘Before I let you go, there’s something else I wanted to run past you.’
Reaching for her wine, Faith had an inkling she was going to need it. She should have known there was an ulterior motive for the call. ‘Shoot,’ she said.
‘Last time I saw you, when you were having a clear-out, we talked about you making a fresh start,’ Ella said. She paused for her stepmother to agree, but Faith remained tight-lipped. Only one of them had mentioned a fresh start. ‘I know it’s a difficult decision, but I was talking to Jack, and we wondered if it would be less of a wrench if I was the buyer?’
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Amanda Brooke
There’s a murderer in their midst… @thewidowsclubIn response to unprecedented media interest, we confirm that the murder victim was a member of our group. We will not be commenting further. When April joins a support group for young widows, she’s looking for answers after her husband’s sudden death. What she finds instead is a group in turmoil. Set up by well-meaning amateurs, the founders are tussling for control of the group, and everyone’s on edge. Added to that, secret relationships springing up between members and another new member, Nick, seems more than a little bit shady… But the most dangerous secret of all? Not all members are who they seem to be. And they’ll go to any lengths to hide the truth…
THE WIDOWS’ CLUB
Amanda Brooke
Copyright (#u7162bcf3-cc48-52d6-a841-0718e2099204)
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London, SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Copyright © Amanda Valentine 2019
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Cover photographs © Rekha Garton / Trevillion Images (main image); Ilina Simeonova / Trevillion Images (flowers)
Amanda Valentine asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008219215
Ebook Edition © November 2019 ISBN: 9780008219222
Version: 2019-09-24
Dedication (#u7162bcf3-cc48-52d6-a841-0718e2099204)
For my daughter and my best friend, Jess
Epigraph (#u7162bcf3-cc48-52d6-a841-0718e2099204)
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.
Emily Dickinson
Contents
Cover (#u949b1b86-f647-5094-8417-320eb88693c1)
Title Page (#ud73f591b-d559-56cd-a129-21e85df88370)
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter 1 (#udd95eed4-14da-5fad-b7b7-203a9ca44149)
Chapter 2 (#uc08e22f6-8c55-550b-9c7c-dbcfee0af0fb)
Chapter 3 (#ua010c4e9-2e54-5a11-ae93-11edfc4d8319)
Chapter 4 (#ue92b8dce-109f-57c4-9298-c98621bc53a7)
Chapter 5 (#u51d20a3a-b11b-5b91-a4a1-7ea6acc8288d)
Chapter 6 (#ue54c8c20-811f-5f3f-8026-413eaae38bac)
Chapter 7 (#u46b5e0b4-a85a-5506-8a5e-4b905e0f5095)
Chapter 8 (#ue67cc524-91e3-53f0-aabb-2eb2fb4a0d16)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 36 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 37 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 38 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 39 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 40 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 41 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 42 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 43 (#litres_trial_promo)
Eight Months Later
Acknowledgements
Keep Reading …
About the Author
Also by Amanda Brooke
About the Publisher
STATEMENT
The Widows’ Club @thewidowsclub
In response to unprecedented media interest, we confirm that the deceased was a member of the group but are unable to comment further. We kindly request that the privacy of the group and its members is respected at this difficult time.
1 (#ulink_e004c93c-0d3e-519e-b8a3-9aa162eac0b9)
As April Thorpe stood outside Hale Village Hall on a damp September evening, she didn’t know if she was ready to join the group she spied through the windows. A dozen or so chairs had been arranged in a circle, but so far no one had taken their seats in the glass-fronted room on the lower floor. They had gathered in the foyer, sipping tea and chatting, and when someone tipped their head back and laughed, it felt wrong. How could they look so relaxed and happy? Who in their right mind would want to be a member of this exclusive club? April certainly didn’t.
She was tempted to scurry away home and scream into her pillow, but she knew from experience that wouldn’t lessen the pain. It was time for a new approach, but April’s feet refused to move. She was scared, and her fear was echoed high above her head in the low rumble of a plane making an approach to land. Hale was directly beneath the flight path for John Lennon Airport and in the darkened sky, the noise carried a sense of foreboding.
‘I don’t belong here,’ she mumbled to herself. ‘I’m too young to be a widow.’
A passer-by might say the same. Widows weren’t thirty years old with bright auburn hair and a feathering of wrinkles around sharp, green eyes. They were older, with laughter lines and watery eyes that captured decades of memories. Such women might point out that a lifetime wasn’t nearly long enough, but it was longer than the five years she and Jason had been married.
Widowhood had been thrust upon April seven months and twelve days ago on a cold, February morning, and whether she liked it or not, she had earned her place here. She imagined Jason prodding her shoulder to get her moving, and her body swayed ever so slightly.
‘Are you coming in?’ someone behind her asked.
April turned to find a smartly dressed woman offering her a smile. She looked like someone April might bump into at the office, someone normal, but her tote bag gave her away. It had the phrase, ‘Hope is the thing with wings’ emblazoned across it.
‘Erm. Sure,’ she replied.
Swept along by embarrassment rather than purpose, April stepped into the foyer to be greeted by the one person who wasn’t a stranger. Tara was in her mid-thirties and reminded April of a tall Audrey Hepburn with her dark hair pulled back into a chignon. The look was completed with a black-and-white striped top and a pair of pedal pushers. She didn’t look like a widow either.
Tara had stumbled into April’s life by chance a couple of weeks earlier when delivering boxes of exquisite cupcakes to the office where April worked as an internal auditor. The cakes were the finishing touch to a lunch-time baby shower the team had organised for one of their colleagues. Sara had had a difficult pregnancy, not least because her boyfriend had dumped her soon after she discovered she was expecting, but on her last day at work, her belly had been taut, her smile broad, and her happiness suffocating. April had no right to spoil her friend’s moment and in her haste to escape, she had almost knocked the cake boxes out of Tara’s arms.
‘Bad day at the office?’ Tara had asked later when she found April shivering outside the building.
April pulled out her earphones. She had been listening to one of Jason’s playlists on Spotify, feeling safe with songs her husband had chosen rather than risk new releases he would never get to hear. ‘I’m sorry about before.’
‘I don’t suppose I can expect everyone to fight over my cakes. I’m Tara, by the way.’
‘April,’ she replied as she took a closer look at her new companion. That day, Tara was wearing a vintage print tea dress with a pale yellow, round-necked cardigan. Her dark eyeliner flicks accentuated eyes that scrutinised April’s features.
‘I don’t normally do the deliveries,’ Tara said, ‘but I had to be on this side of the water anyway. I’m on my way to Clatterbridge Hospital next. I go back every year.’ She left a pause before adding, ‘My husband died there eight years ago today.’
‘That’s lovely,’ April said. She blinked. ‘Sorry, I mean, that’s awful, but it’s nice that you go back.’ Her cheeks flushed. She was usually on the receiving end of such a clumsy response and it felt odd to have the situation reversed. She hadn’t been prepared to meet another widow so much like herself. ‘You must have been quite young when you lost him.’
‘Twenty-eight.’
‘I was twenty-nine,’ replied April.
‘I know,’ Tara said. ‘I spoke to your friend Sara and she mentioned why you might be upset.’
‘Then maybe you could explain it to me,’ April said, and for the first time she felt like she was talking to someone who might actually know why she felt the way she did. ‘I’m happy for Sara, and it’s not like Jason and I ever lost a child or suffered a miscarriage. We weren’t even trying for a baby.’
‘And now you’ll never get the chance,’ Tara replied. ‘While everyone else is working out their future paths, the ground in front of you has fallen away and you’re balancing on the edge of a precipice.’
‘I am,’ April said with a nod that threatened to spill the tears welling in her eyes. ‘I woke up one morning and everything I thought I had was gone. Jason died in his sleep. A subarachnoid haemorrhage. There was no warning. Nothing.’
April could remember how she had stretched out her arms when she awoke that morning. Her hand had touched something cold and even the memory made her recoil. She had no idea how long she had been lying next to Jason like that, but it would have been hours and there was no doubting he was dead. Her first reaction had been to scramble backwards off the bed, and she had landed hard on the floor. Unable, or unwilling to process what was happening, she had started to scream. Luckily they lived in a flat, and one of her neighbours had heard her.
Staring into the distance, April was back on her bedroom floor. A part of her had never left.
‘It will get easier,’ Tara assured her. ‘The grief might stay with you for ever but the shock each time you remember your loss will become less intense, or else you’ll simply get used to that stabbing pain in the centre of your heart.’
‘It really is a physical pain, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘How did you get through it?’
‘With a lot of help from a close network of family and friends. My daughter Molly was only two at the time, and Mike and I ran a business together, so there was no choice but to keep going.’
‘Gosh, that must have been hard. I don’t know how I’d cope if I had a baby to look after as well,’ April admitted, which only confused her emotions about the dreaded baby shower.
‘You seem to have a good group of friends around you too,’ Tara told her.
‘They must be sick and tired of walking around on eggshells. I don’t know how I feel from one minute to the next, and if I can’t predict how I’ll react, how can they? I know I’m being irrational half the time.’
‘Talking helps.’
April shook her head. ‘I don’t have any siblings, and I can’t offload on my parents, or worse still, Jason’s. I keep telling myself I should open up to friends, but Jason and I had known each other since school and we worked for the same council. His mates were mine, and vice versa. I can’t talk to them. It’s too painful. It’s too complicated.’
‘If you’re interested, I run a support group called the Widows’ Club. We were a bit short-sighted when we came up with the name because quite a few of our members these days are men, but we were all widowed under the age of fifty. We meet once a month to share things that would probably sound crazy to anyone else. We cry, we vent, and occasionally we have a laugh too.’
April bit her lip. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, edging away. ‘I should be getting back to work.’
Tara chuckled to herself. ‘I know how this must look, but I promise, I’m not some recruiter for a weird cult. Here,’ she said, pulling a business card from her pocket. ‘My mobile number’s on the back, or you can look up the group online. Have a think about it and if you’re interested, come over to my shop and we’ll have a proper chat.’
The embossed card with cursive script was for Tee’s Cakes and above Tara’s phone number was her address. ‘You’re in Hale Village? I live in Eastham.’
‘Then we’re practically neighbours,’ Tara said, dismissing the fact that the Mersey flowed between the two villages. ‘If you can get there, you’d be very welcome.’
Meeting another young widow had felt fated and, despite April’s reservations, she had visited Tara’s shop the following week where she found herself being inducted into the group. Tara’s offer of friendship had proven difficult to resist and she didn’t look in the least bit surprised when her newest recruit arrived at the village hall for her first meeting.
‘I knew you’d come,’ she said, giving April’s arm a squeeze.
‘I didn’t,’ April replied, stunned that she had made it this far.
There followed a blur of introductions that left April dizzy. After months of isolation, she was now one of many. Someone made her a coffee and another offered her a carefully crafted cupcake, presumably from Tee’s Cakes, but a combination of nerves and dread churned April’s insides. She was lucky to make it past the pleasantries without throwing up.
When it was time and they all took their seats in the circle, April didn’t know if she would talk, or what she might say if she did find her voice. With dark, unspeakable thoughts swirling inside her head, she stared into the depths of her half-empty mug until she became aware of the room falling silent. She looked up, and it was Tara’s face she saw first. She was sitting opposite to keep April in her line of sight, while the group’s other administrator, Justine, sat on April’s right. She was the one who had greeted April outside the hall.
Justine was around the same age as Tara, although her style was far more conservative. She wore a tailored dress and her sleek blonde ponytail swished as she bent down to take a clipboard from her tote bag. Tara had described her as the organised half of their partnership, and April was beginning to see why.
‘Shall we get started?’ Justine asked.
‘Sure,’ Tara replied. ‘Welcome back everyone. I’d like to start by introducing not one but two new members to the Widows’ Club. For those who haven’t had a chance to say hello yet, we have April sitting on Justine’s right, and on her left is Nick.’
There was a ripple of greetings and nods directed at the newbies, but April latched on to Nick’s smile. Wearing a suit and clean-shaven, he was in his late thirties and had spoken with a soft Liverpool accent when they had been introduced earlier. She had been too dazed at the time to pick up that she wasn’t the only curiosity in the room, but now that she knew, she felt drawn to him. They all had stories, and like the rest of the group, she wanted to hear his.
‘On behalf of all of us,’ Tara said, ‘I’m so sorry that you find yourself needing this group, but we’re in this together. Please contribute as much or as little as makes you comfortable. No one is here to judge.’
‘No Faith tonight?’ asked one of the men.
‘She’s passed on her apologies, but I’m sure our new members will have the pleasure of her company at the next meeting,’ explained Tara. ‘Right then, who wants to contribute first?’
As the conversation began to flow, April took time to familiarise herself with the faces that turned occasionally in her direction. The women outnumbered the men, but their ages were more evenly spread. There was at least one woman who looked younger than April, and a couple of members in their late forties, giving the group an age range that spanned more than a quarter of a century.
April tried her best to memorise names and keep a mental note of their individual circumstances, but it was difficult to keep track when her thoughts kept tugging her back to why she was there and how much she should share. What she did manage to glean was that some members had endured watching their loved ones’ health decline whilst others had suffered the shock of losing their partners in the blink of an eye. Some had children, others did not. They were all different, and yet whenever someone raised a gripe about a world that didn’t understand them, there were nods of agreement around the room.
‘I told myself I should get out more,’ a woman was saying. She glanced over at April and Nick to catch their eye. ‘I’m Jodie, by the way. My husband went out to play five-a-side one night and never came home. Heart attack. He died right there on the pitch two and a half years ago. He was twenty-seven.’ Jodie pursed her lips and there was a spark of anger, or was it disbelief behind her eyes? April had felt both.
‘I’m sorry,’ April replied, her first contribution to the group beyond a couple of indecipherable mumbles. Nick had been quiet too, listening intently as he pulled at the starched cuffs of his pristine white shirt.
‘So, where was I?’ Jodie asked with forced cheeriness, only to find she couldn’t continue. She tipped back her head and blinked hard for a second or two before straightening up. ‘You’d think I’d be able to control these flipping tears by now. Can you believe I went a whole week without crying last month? Honestly, I’m so sorry.’
‘You don’t have to apologise, not here,’ Tara reminded her.
‘I know, but sometimes it would be nice to say what I want to say without breaking down. It’s not like it was something sad, not really. All I wanted to share was that I bit the bullet and went out clubbing with my mates the other week,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t looking to meet anyone, but all my friends are in couples and they’re desperate to hook me up with someone new. They spent the entire night striking meerkat poses to check out potential candidates.’
‘Did you mind?’ asked Justine.
‘Not really, or not at first. I know they just want to see me happy again.’
‘Only you can know when the time’s right,’ Steve said. He had introduced himself earlier, explaining how he’d nursed his wife through treatment for ovarian cancer. It hadn’t worked, the disease had been detected too late because a thirty-four-year-old mother of two presenting with symptoms couldn’t possibly have cancer. ‘You shouldn’t feel pressurised, Jode. It could be they’re only interested in pairing you up because they’re worried you’ll sink your claws into one of their husbands. The last time I went to what had been one of our regular couples’ nights, the men were ridiculously possessive of their wives. Probably explains why I wasn’t invited back.’
Blood rushed to April’s cheeks as she thought about her inner circle of friends. They had all rallied around her after Jason died, but April had slowly distanced herself. It was too painful to go out without Jason and, like Steve, she had detected a growing awkwardness too. She didn’t think her friends saw her as any sort of competition, but it did happen, didn’t it? People formed inappropriate attachments to their friends’ partners all the time, and you didn’t have to be widowed for it to happen.
Jodie rolled her eyes. ‘Seriously, Steve, I’m not a threat, and my mates know it. The idea of being with anyone else still feels like cheating on Ryan, and I couldn’t do that to him – especially with one of our friends.’
April took a breath. This was it. This was why she was here. She needed to delve deeper into Jodie’s theory about what friends would and wouldn’t do – what Jason would or wouldn’t do. Finally, she could tell a group of strangers what she couldn’t share with anyone else; that when she grieved for her husband, she felt a burning anger and a growing fear. Was it normal to suspect your dead husband of cheating on you? She needed to know.
2 (#ulink_5b0bec47-381d-51c4-af53-1e2c8962ff87)
April was about to share her darkest fears with the group, but before she could muster the courage, Nick cleared his throat to speak. The breath April had been holding escaped with a soft gasp, and she was left feeling crushed but temporarily relieved. What if she were wrong to suspect Jason? Worse still, what if she were right?
‘I’ve no idea how I’d fare in a new relationship,’ Nick began. ‘How could anyone compare to Erin when I choose to remember only the best parts of our relationship? I’ll never love anyone like I loved her. She was perfect.’
Nick turned to meet April’s gaze. He was seeking reassurance, but April lowered her head and closed her eyes as a rush of sacred memories assaulted her. She had once thought Jason was perfect too.
‘Would you like to tell us about Erin?’ asked Justine.
‘Sure,’ Nick said. He pulled at his cuff, unable to continue until it was straight. ‘Erin found a lump in her breast and pretty soon after we were told it was cancer. She was only thirty-two and it didn’t seem real.’ He paused a moment before adding, ‘I should explain that Erin and I weren’t married, but I asked Justine and she said it would be OK with you guys.’
Justine nodded. ‘I told Nick we recognise the love between two people and not what’s written on a certificate. Our differences bring us together, they don’t set us apart,’ she said. ‘Lisa and I had a civil partnership, but I’ve never been treated any differently in this group.’
‘Not marrying Erin is one of my deepest regrets,’ Nick admitted. ‘I was stupid. I didn’t appreciate what I had until it was too late. She had treatment, but there were secondaries and she never did get the all-clear we were praying for. The last thing Erin said to me was not to waste my life thinking about what might have been. I couldn’t believe how brave and noble she was, right up to the end.’
‘I’m sure you were brave too,’ said a woman sitting next to Steve. Nadiya was another thirty-something with three children to bring up after her husband had drowned on an ill-fated boat trip.
‘If you’d seen me, you wouldn’t have thought so. I was useless to her.’
‘My husband had cancer too,’ Tara explained. ‘And I remember feeling that sense of impotence. It was their fight, their suffering, and we were the bystanders.’
‘How did you cope?’ Nick asked.
‘I have no idea,’ Tara said, but she glanced at Justine and added, ‘Actually I do. I had family and friends like Justine who looked after me and my baby so I could look after Mike in his last months. I’m sure I appeared brave, but I was a mess inside.’
‘Two years on and I’m still a mess,’ Nick said, head down as he tugged at his shirt sleeve. He sniffed back tears before adding, ‘Sorry.’
There was a pause that no one tried to fill until it became clear that Nick had said as much as he could for his first meeting. One or two people glanced at April. It was her turn, but after listening to Nick, her emotions were pinballing between the pain of her loss and her anger.
Steve was close enough to hear her gulp as she struggled to swallow a mouthful of cold coffee and he offered her a reprieve. ‘It’s not all gloom and doom,’ he said. ‘There are some of us who make new relationships work, aren’t there Tara? Where’s Iain tonight?’
If April wasn’t mistaken, there was a blush rising in Tara’s cheeks. ‘At home looking after the girls.’
‘Your place or his?’ asked Nadiya, quick to join in the teasing that brought light back to a room crowded with ghosts.
‘My flat, although I won’t be living above the shop for much longer. Iain and I have put an offer in for a house around the corner on Pebble Street,’ Tara replied. She bit her lip as she waited for the group’s reaction. It was Nick and April’s frowns she noticed first. ‘Sorry, I should explain. Iain’s another member of the group and this lot have had to listen to us debating whether or not to move in together for a while now. We each have a daughter and we didn’t want to rush things.’
‘And how are the girls taking the news?’ Nadiya asked.
‘We haven’t told them yet, but I know Molly’s going to be thrilled. She’ll be glad not to have to share her poky little bedroom with Lily whenever she stays over.’
‘And what about Lily?’ Justine prompted.
Tara shifted in her seat. ‘That’s going to be more of a challenge. She’ll have to move schools, and, whereas I can keep the flat so we can rent it out, Iain’s putting their house in Widnes on the market. It’s not going to be easy for Lily to leave the place where she lived with her mum, but I hope there are enough positives to outweigh the negatives.’
‘We had to move house because we couldn’t afford to stay where we were,’ said Nadiya. ‘The older two were sobbing their hearts out on the day we left, but they settled eventually.’
‘It’s a new start for all of us.’
‘Do you think Iain will keep coming to the group?’ asked Justine. ‘He’s missed a few now.’
‘You’d have to ask him that, but maybe he has got as much out of the group as he needs,’ Tara replied. Smiling, she added, ‘Possibly more than he was expecting, but that’s the thing, we have each other now and a future to look forward to.’
Justine played with the corner of her clipboard. ‘You make it sound like you’re considering leaving too.’
April tightened her grip on her mug. The others were lovely, but Tara was the one who had persuaded April to join the group and she didn’t want to lose her so soon.
‘No, I have no plans to escape just yet,’ Tara said, falling short of giving them an absolute assurance. She gave a chuckle, but her smile was tight when she added, ‘And who knows? Blending two families could go horribly wrong and we might need you all more than ever.’
After another pause, Justine sat up a little straighter. ‘Are we about done for tonight?’
The thought of leaving without making any contribution was enough for April to regain the courage that had failed her earlier. ‘Can I say something?’ she asked.
‘Don’t feel you have to talk about Jason until you’re ready,’ said Tara.
The sound of Jason’s name falling from the lips of someone who had never known him, in a place he had never been, evoked such bittersweet emotion. April was angry, confused, and possibly paranoid, but she had never lost sight of how much she missed her husband, or how much she had loved him. No one in this room was ever going to meet Jason, but he was the reason she was there. He was what connected her to each and every one of them. She inhaled slowly and her breath vibrated over the thump of her heart.
‘I’ll admit my feelings are confused,’ she began, ‘so I apologise if what I’m about to say doesn’t make sense.’
‘Why don’t you start at the beginning?’ suggested Tara. ‘There’s no rush.’
April nodded. It was as safe a place as any. ‘Jason and I were childhood sweethearts and we managed the whole long-distance relationship while I went off to do my accountancy degree and he took an apprenticeship as a surveyor. When I came back, we ended up working in different departments for the same council. We moved in together and eventually got married just over five years ago. Our lives were perfectly synchronised until the night Jason died in his sleep,’ she said, surprised her voice held despite the crushing pain that made it difficult to breathe. ‘He was gone, just like that.’
‘It happens,’ said Jodie. Nadiya was also nodding.
‘I was told the bleed on his brain had been sudden and catastrophic,’ she said. ‘No one could have known there was a time bomb ticking inside his head, but I do wonder if there were signs. Jason changed in those last few months. I couldn’t do right for doing wrong but we got through last Christmas, and by February, he seemed like his old self. The night before was just an average Tuesday evening at home watching TV, eating pizza and going to bed.’
April didn’t mention the sex, but it had been intense, followed by leftover pizza and slower, more languorous sex until they had fallen asleep utterly and completely sated.
‘I’m pretty sure I woke up with a smile on my face,’ she continued as she closed her eyes and recalled how she had felt that morning. There had been a sense of relief that they were back on track. Whatever had been wrong between them had been fixed.
As the scene played out in her mind, her blood ran cold.
Justine leant in. ‘You don’t have to do this,’ she whispered.
A sob escaped, but April swallowed the next one back. ‘I keep going back over our life together and challenging everything. All the things I should have said, or should have asked but didn’t. I want to know what Jason was thinking. I need to know. There are so many questions. I want … I want …’
Justine patted April’s back as she gasped for air. ‘Maybe that’s enough for one night.’
Through vision blurred with tears, April looked to Tara, who asked, ‘Is that OK with you, April? Do you want to stop there?’
No, thought April. I want to tell you how I spend most nights going through pages and pages of phone bills, emails, and bank account statements as if I’m reading a book that’s been carefully edited so as not to reveal the final twist. If an undetected bleed on the brain hadn’t caused Jason’s change in behaviour, April wanted to know what – or who, had? She didn’t think the group could give her an answer, but she might feel better for asking it. Unfortunately, the only sound she could utter was another sob as someone passed her a tissue.
‘In that case,’ Tara continued, ‘thank you all for coming, and if there are any cupcakes left in the foyer, please take them home.’
‘And before you leave,’ Justine said, raising her voice above the scrape of chair legs, ‘if there’s anyone who hasn’t paid the deposit for the Christmas do, can I have it as soon as?’
Everyone was up on their feet, but rather than heading for the exit, they gravitated towards April and Nick.
‘If you’re in need of a stiff drink,’ Steve said to April, ‘a few of us are going over to The Childe of Hale for a quick one.’
‘I’d better not, I’m driving,’ she replied as Jodie approached and wrapped her in a bear hug.
‘It will get better, although I can’t promise the tears will dry up anytime soon,’ she said.
‘I can vouch for that on Jodie’s behalf,’ added Steve.
Jodie poked him in the ribs. ‘For that you can buy the first round.’
As the group thinned out, Nick approached April and he too gave her a hug. ‘We can do this,’ he whispered.
Nick was slow to pull away and for a split second April had an irrational fear that he was going to cup her cheek in one of his broad hands as Jason had once done. She turned her head quickly.
‘You both did really well and I hope you’ll be back next month,’ said Justine, laying a hand on each of their arms to give a gentle squeeze. ‘And it would be lovely to see you at the Christmas party too. I know it’s only September, but it’s a dinner-dance and these things need to be booked early.’
‘Sure, how much is it?’ asked Nick, slipping a hand into his jacket pocket.
‘We’re asking for a £40 contribution and the rest will be made up from our end-of-year surplus,’ Justine said. Glancing at April, she added, ‘We’re very careful about how we manage member subscriptions and we don’t like to build up too much in reserves. Can we tempt you too?’
‘I’m not sure. I haven’t been planning that far ahead,’ April stuttered. She had so far declined any and all plans for Christmas and New Year. Knowing how she might feel three months from now was an impossible task.
‘There’s no rush,’ Tara said, coming to her rescue. ‘If you want to decide nearer the time, I’m sure we can sneak you in.’
Justine’s mouth twitched, but she didn’t overrule Tara. She took the money Nick handed over and said, ‘Come with me and I’ll sort out a receipt.’
‘No, it’s fine. I trust you.’
‘Honestly, I insist,’ Justine replied, taking his arm and pulling him away.
Nick looked back over his shoulder at April. ‘See you next time.’
Tara waited until the smile April had returned to Nick began to fade. ‘You don’t have to wait until next month if you need to talk sooner. Ring me anytime. That’s an order.’
The invitation was almost too much, and April came close to blurting out all those thoughts and feelings she hadn’t managed to share with the group. She needed someone like Tara in her life.
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘but you might regret the offer. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m pretty messed up.’
Tara smiled. ‘I’ll let you into a secret,’ she said in a hushed voice, ‘we all are.’
3 (#ulink_26ac2e02-c079-58e3-b8ed-eb2c8009523c)
Once the last of the lunchtime customers had been served, Tara shut up the shop. She closed early on Wednesday afternoons and would normally use the time to make up cake orders, but she had other plans today and had already sent her deputy manager, Michelle, home early. Molly, Tara’s ten-year-old daughter, was still in school, and Iain was home in Widnes, decluttering the house while eight-year-old Lily was out of the way. Tara would need to have a pre-move clear-out too, but with the limited space available in the flat upstairs, she had learnt a long time ago to be ruthless with keepsakes. Even so, it would be a wrench for both families to step away from the past, and as Tara enjoyed a rare moment of calm, she stopped to appreciate where she was and how far she had come.
Tee’s Cakes had the feel of a Parisian patisserie, with a high counter running along one side of the shop to display intricately crafted cakes and tarts, and a line of padded booths on the opposite side for customers to sip their coffee and whisper secrets. Additional seating could be set up outside, weather-permitting, and the kitchen in the back was state-of-the-art to meet the demands of daily visitors and a thriving online business. Mike wouldn’t recognise the place.
He had originally opened the shop as a traditional café serving English breakfasts and sandwiches to both the locals and returning visitors who had stumbled upon the village and discovered its secrets. Hale was an often overlooked settlement on the edges of the Mersey, and boasted two pubs, a church, and a post office. It had a rich history that stretched back to Roman times, with several points of interest including a nature reserve at Pickering’s Pasture and a lighthouse at Hale Head, and no visit was complete without a trip to St Mary’s church and the grave of John Middleton, better known as the Childe of Hale. The history of the village’s four-hundred-year-old resident, who had reportedly measured nine feet four inches tall, was well known. Sadly, few would stop to remember Michael Thomas Price, who had been dead just eight years.
Tara had known Mike as a friend, a boss, and briefly as a flatmate before they realised there was a spark between them that couldn’t be contained. Tara had grown up in Hale and, after coming top of her class at catering college, she had turned up at Mike’s café one day looking for a job. Her plan was to save enough money to move to Paris where she intended to perfect her craft, but it wasn’t long before Tara had created a successful sideline for Mike by selling her cakes. They worked side by side and with the days so long, it made sense for her to crash out in his spare bedroom above the café. She never did make it to Paris.
Looking around at the transformation, she hoped Mike would approve of how she had used the money he had left her. Of one thing she was certain, he would approve of Iain. In those last days before cancer stole her husband from her, Mike had made it very clear that he wanted Tara to find someone else. If anything, he would ask why it had taken her so long.
Drawn to the window, Tara looked out across the small car park that served Ivy Farm Court; a parade of shops of which Tee’s Cakes was one of eight units. She could see the entrance to Hale Primary School on the opposite side of the road where Lily would join Molly once the house move was complete. The main road continued up towards the park and the Childe of Hale pub where it hit a sharp bend at the war memorial, which formed its own little island between the lanes.
In the aftermath of Mike’s death, Tara had often pictured the regiments of war widows standing before the sandstone cross to remember the husbands who hadn’t made it home. She had imagined them drawing comfort from each other and, longing for something similar, she had created the Widows’ Club with Justine’s help. It was her way to reach out to others, and she had taken far more from it than she could ever hope to give. She was yet to decide if she had given enough.
As Tara stared off into space, her mind unable to form a clear vision of the future, she didn’t register the flash of Faith’s white Range Rover until her friend pulled up directly in front of the shop. Tara unlocked the door and beckoned her inside.
Faith had dropped into Tara’s life three years earlier when she had visited the shop to pick up a large order of French pastries. This was in the days before Iain had used his Internet wizardry to establish Tara’s online business, and when Faith had explained that the cakes were a thank-you gesture to colleagues who had supported her after the loss of her husband the year before, Tara had hooked Faith in. She was good at that.
‘You look nice,’ Faith said with more generosity than was entirely deserving of Tara’s current ensemble.
Having a job that required crawling out of bed at an ungodly hour, Tara had grabbed random items of clothing from her wardrobe in near darkness and only as the sun rose did she notice that the mustard yellow swing skirt clashed brazenly with the pink checks of her vintage blouse. Her customers were used to her eccentricities, but she wished she had tried harder today as Faith slipped off her bright yellow rain jacket.
‘And you look stunning,’ she said as she admired Faith’s dove grey cashmere jumper paired with black cigarette pants. At forty-six, Faith maintained a seemingly effortless beauty. With penetrating grey eyes and a flawless complexion, her make-up was understated and she had caught up her tousled blonde hair into a messy ponytail that left stray curls to frame her face perfectly. This was Faith’s idea of casual. ‘Make yourself comfortable and I’ll sort the coffee. Do you fancy a slice of cake?’
‘Why else would I be here?’
Five minutes later, Tara set down two cups of coffee, one opera cake, and three plates and forks.
‘Please don’t say Justine’s joining us!’
‘I wouldn’t do that to you,’ Tara said, only to feel a pang of guilt. Justine had been there for Tara long before Faith dazzled her way into her life. ‘I wouldn’t do it to Justine either.’
Faith pulled a face: the clash of personalities was felt on both sides. ‘So how was the meeting the other week? Did I miss anything? Was there lots of blubbing?’
‘It was a good session and I think our new members are going to fit in well. You should have been there,’ Tara said pointedly as she served up a slice of cake for each of them.
‘It was probably safer that I wasn’t. We’ll be running out of space if you recruit any more.’
‘The numbers are fine.’ Tara played with the cake on her plate, carefully separating the intricate layers of coffee-soaked almond sponge, ganache and buttercream. She didn’t look up when she added, ‘Iain wasn’t there either.’
Faith cocked her head. ‘And was that a problem?’
‘It did raise a question in the group about whether he was thinking of leaving. We have talked about it, and, while Iain’s not going to make a firm decision just yet, he’s doesn’t need the group like he did before. He wants to focus fully on the future.’
‘Easier said than done.’
‘I’m not suggesting we airbrush out the past,’ Tara said, suddenly aware of the strong aroma of coffee that was a stark contrast to the smell of sizzling bacon she associated with Mike’s café. She had held on to the life insurance money for almost three years before plucking up the courage to have the place remodelled. The café’s reincarnation had a distinct French vibe, but Tara had ensured there was a place for treasured mementoes too, including Mike’s chef’s cap pressed flat inside a frame on the wall behind the counter. ‘But Iain and I have each other now, and if there are any issues to face, we should deal with them as a couple.’
Faith’s cup was halfway to her lips. ‘You make it sound like you want to leave too.’
Tara didn’t answer immediately. ‘Funnily enough, that was something else the group picked up on.’
‘Anyone in particular?’ Faith asked with a raised eyebrow. ‘I bet Justine would love it if you left. I keep telling you, she doesn’t like being overshadowed. She must be champing at the bit to run the group on her own.’
Tara refused to entertain the idea that there were cracks developing in her friendship with Justine. It was true that, occasionally, it felt like there was an element of competition when it came to opening and closing the meetings, but Justine admitted herself that Tara was more natural when it came to leading the discussion. ‘She was as concerned as the rest of the group that I might consider leaving,’ Tara insisted. ‘And if I did go, I’d make sure there was someone else to pick up the slack.’
Faith had managed to take a sip of her coffee this time, and she spluttered. ‘I hope you’re not suggesting me?’
Tara laughed. As good as Faith would be at controlling the group, they could all agree that she and Justine would not make the ideal partnership. ‘It doesn’t have to be you. Steve or Nadiya might be willing.’
‘Justine wouldn’t work with any of us. She might say the right things, but she’d push us out eventually.’ Faith leant forward when she added, ‘It’s what she’s doing now with you. You just don’t see it.’
‘I’m not leaving ye—’
‘Good,’ Faith said before Tara could add the caveat. ‘You keep chairing the meetings and Justine can carry on as the bean counter. Speaking of which …’ She took an envelope from her handbag and slid it across the table. ‘Here’s my balance for the Christmas party.’
Tara wrinkled her nose. ‘I’ll take it on the condition you tell Justine I’ve given you a receipt. She’s become obsessed with keeping the accounts squeaky clean since finding out one of our new members is an auditor. Like April could care less.’
‘I like the sound of April already.’
‘That’s good because she’s on her way over. The extra plate is for her,’ Tara said, watching for Faith’s expression. She didn’t disappoint.
‘And you call yourself a friend? Why are you doing this to me, Tara? She’s going to cry, isn’t she?’
‘Quite possibly,’ Tara said and went on to explain April’s nightmarish discovery of her husband’s body. ‘She needs us, Faith, and I think she’ll talk more if it’s just me and you. A large group can be overwhelming and in hindsight it was a mistake to have two new members starting at the same time. You sidestepped the last meeting, but you’re not getting out of this.’
It was no coincidence that Faith had made her excuses. Introductions were often cathartic for new members, but their raw grief could be harrowing for those who were further along their journey.
‘I was busy with work,’ Faith insisted.
‘If you say so.’
Tara didn’t push further. Faith put on a convincing act, but she continued to feel her husband Derek’s loss keenly. Unlike April and Nick, it had taken several sessions before she had been able to share her story with the group, but she too had cried.
Faith was unlike anyone Tara had ever met. She could be as charming as she could be blunt. She had no time for fools, but for the lucky few she let into her heart, she was fiercely protective, hence her animosity towards Justine for her perceived attempts to undermine Tara.
‘You’re going to like April. I promise.’
Faith scowled. ‘And what about the other newbie? Is he invited too?’
‘No,’ Tara replied. ‘He’ll manage just fine with the group.’
‘What’s he like?’
‘His name’s Nick Malford, he’s thirty-eight, and he lost his partner two years ago. It was Justine who enrolled him so I don’t know all the details. What I can say is that he’s genuinely heartbroken, and he’s not afraid to shed a tear,’ she teased Faith. ‘But he has a certain confidence about him, so I expect he’ll integrate with the others quite quickly.’
‘So we’re left with the problem child.’
‘We’re left with someone who needs some extra attention.’
‘You’re lucky this cake is so good,’ mumbled Faith as she stabbed it with her fork. ‘And while I gorge myself, tell me where you’re up to with the house move. You look stressed. Are you stressed?’
‘You said I looked nice before,’ Tara reminded her, but she was smiling. Most people assumed she could cope with whatever life threw at her and it was a rare thing for someone to stop and ask if she was OK. Tara should have known that person would be Faith. ‘But you’re right, things are getting very real. There’s a bit of wrangling over the house on Pepper Street after the survey picked up a couple of issues, but that’s nothing compared to the stumbling block we’ve hit with Iain’s house. He thought he had a buyer, but apparently they haven’t secured a mortgage yet.’
‘It’ll happen.’
Tara felt her stomach clench. ‘Maybe that’s the issue.’
It had felt like fate was giving them a nudge when Iain had been made redundant over the summer, and they had planned their future while sitting on a bench in Pickering’s Pasture. Everything had seemed to click into place as they gazed out across the mirrored surface of the Mersey with the girls close by taking turns birdspotting with a pair of binoculars. With the online business taking off, Tara’s fortunes had taken a turn for the better. She needed more help with the admin, plus a part-time delivery driver, which conveniently added up to a full-time job. To the background noise of their daughters’ giggles, they had struck upon the perfect solution. She and Iain would join forces and become partners in every sense of the word, but as the summer faded and the days shortened, the imperfections in their plan had become difficult to ignore.
‘Don’t tell me, the pieces don’t fit into place as neatly as you imagined,’ Faith said.
‘Barring a few adjustments, the house move and the business set-up will work out fine,’ Tara replied. ‘If there are delays, we’ll manage.’
‘Then what’s the problem? Are you having second thoughts about Iain?’
‘Absolutely not,’ Tara said quickly, her heart clenching. ‘I know we’ve only been together for a year, but I couldn’t love him more. It feels right, and I know he’d say the same. Our families might be two broken pieces from different puzzles, but we can fit together, given the chance.’
‘Ah, so the girls are the problem.’
‘Iain and I took them for a walk to the lighthouse at the weekend and explained we could be in our new house by the end of the year. Molly was over the moon, but Lily was worryingly quiet,’ Tara said as she pictured them walking back to the village.
Molly had raced ahead, but Lily had slipped her hand into her dad’s. When Tara had offered to take her other hand, Lily had refused. ‘My mummy’s holding this one,’ she had said.
‘It’s natural that they’d react differently,’ Tara told Faith. ‘Molly was practically a baby when Mike died and she’s never known any different. It might take her some time to adjust to having a father figure, but she can’t wait to move out of the flat. Lily on the other hand was five when she lost her mum. She has memories and emotional ties that are intrinsically linked to the home Iain’s trying to sell from under her.’
‘Is it a deal breaker?’
‘No,’ Tara said, pulling back her shoulders to shift the weight pressing down against her chest. ‘But it’s going to make the next few months far more interesting than I would like. Now enough about me, tell me your news. How come you’ve taken the day off work?’
Tara had been pleasantly surprised when Faith suggested calling into the shop. They tried to meet up at least once a month between group meetings, but Tara had all but given up hope of finding time between one crisis and another.
‘I had a date with a man,’ Faith said, raising an eyebrow.
‘What for? A manicure? Pedicure? Indian head massage?’ Tara asked with a smile.
‘A quotation, actually,’ Faith said, pushing away her empty plate. Her smile disappeared. ‘Lily’s not the only one with emotional ties that are about to be cut. I told myself I had to do something about the house this year, and I’ve finally made a start.’
‘Are you selling up?’ Tara asked, unable to hide her shock. Faith talked about her house as if it were a shrine to her husband, and Tara couldn’t imagine her letting it go any more than she could imagine Faith letting go of the place Derek occupied in her heart.
‘Looking at things rationally, the house is too big for one person, and you never know, it might be fun living in some stylish city apartment with beautiful views.’ She took a moment to consider the possibility, then shook her head. ‘But no, Woolton is my home. I can’t leave.’
‘So explain. What was the quotation for?’
‘There are rooms full of furniture that have been left to gather dust,’ she said. ‘Assuming the antique dealer I met can improve his offer, and I’ll make sure he does, I can at least empty the rooms I don’t use. That way, if and when I do pluck up the courage to move, it should be less traumatic.’
‘One step at a time,’ agreed Tara.
‘And if Ella happens to notice, I might tell her I’ve donated all her family heirlooms to charity,’ Faith said, referring to her grown-up stepdaughter. ‘I doubt she’d care, but her mother would be apoplectic.’
Tara couldn’t believe some of the stories Faith had told her about Derek’s embittered first wife, Rosemary. Their daughter had grown up believing all the tales her mother had spun about her father, and sadly Ella and Derek had been estranged at the time of his death. Tara felt sorry for her, but as for Rosemary, any woman who continued to use her daughter to eke out revenge on a man long since dead deserved Faith’s spite. ‘You are wicked.’
‘I know,’ Faith said with a glint in her eye that faded as she looked over Tara’s shoulder. ‘Your stray lamb has arrived.’
After greeting April with a hug, Tara guided her towards the booth where Faith had remained seated. There was an awkward moment where April dithered, seemingly unable to decide if she should offer Faith a handshake or a hug, but, to Tara’s relief, Faith stood to embrace the new arrival.
‘Faith isn’t one of life’s huggers, but after three years of group therapy, we’re getting there,’ Tara quipped.
The two friends scowled at each other before Tara retreated to the counter to make April’s coffee. From the corner of her eye, she watched April take her seat opposite Faith.
‘I hear you’re an auditor,’ Faith said, raising her voice above the gurgle of the coffee machine. ‘We were hoping you’d cast an eye over the support group accounts to see if Justine’s been skimming something off the top.’
‘Actually, I’m an internal auditor so I deal more with governance issues, but I could take a look.’ April’s eyes were wide when she turned to Tara as she approached. ‘Is there a problem?’
Tara placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of April and took the seat next to her. ‘No, there isn’t. Justine’s far more likely to add money to our fund than take from it. Faith’s teasing and she really shouldn’t.’
Faith took the reprimand with a polite nod. ‘Sorry, that was mean of me, but I don’t like the way she’s been trying to overthrow Tara. Justine hates that Tara’s looked upon as the group leader while she’s left to do the admin.’
‘Which she does really well,’ Tara added in Justine’s defence.
Tara and Justine had been friends since school and had been there for each other during the most difficult times of their lives. Justine had been a source of great strength at Mike’s funeral, never guessing that she would be the next to wear the widow’s mantle three short months later when her wife died from sepsis.
Together, they had sought out an existing widows’ group, but they had stood out from the start. Tara was in her late twenties, Justine only thirty, and as much as the older women had welcomed them, their experiences of widowhood had been markedly different. There had been no talk of childcare, careers, or the pressure society placed on them to reinvent themselves. If anything, the others envied Tara and Justine’s youth and their potential to start anew.
‘And Justine doesn’t only manage the budget,’ continued Tara. ‘She takes care of all the social media, and puts a lot of time and effort into organising us all. I couldn’t do what she does, but someone could easily replace me.’
‘That’s not going to happen,’ said Faith.
Turning to April, Tara said, ‘I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. The group is a family of sorts and Justine is like a sister to me. There really isn’t a problem between us and if ever there was, I would deal with it.’ Tara knew Faith had good intentions, but she didn’t want anyone taking sides. There were no lines to be drawn, not on her behalf. To Faith she added, ‘So can we please leave her alone?’
‘Noted,’ Faith said as she and Tara locked eyes. The moment passed and they both relaxed as they turned their attention to April.
‘Can I tempt you with some cake?’ Tara asked.
‘I haven’t had much of an appetite lately,’ April replied, ‘but it looks beautiful.’
Ignoring the refusal, Tara cut a slice and left the plate within reach. ‘You can take some home for your mum and dad, if you like.’
‘You’re living with your parents?’ Faith asked. ‘Oh, sorry. I heard what happened to your husband. No wonder you moved out.’
‘I’m not sure I could have slept there again even if I’d tried,’ April agreed with a shudder. ‘And being looked after is probably what I need right now, but to be honest, I didn’t have a choice. Jason and I had been renting our flat, and I couldn’t afford it on my own. I had to rely on family to cover the cost of the funeral, and my first priority is to pay them back before looking for a place of my own. Jason didn’t have life insurance or a pension.’
‘It happens more often than you’d think,’ Faith said. ‘My Derek died in a car crash just over four years ago. He was twelve years older, so you’d think he’d be better prepared, but he’d cashed in his pension as part of the divorce settlement with his first wife. He left me his business, but I don’t know the first thing about imports and exports and most of his contracts were verbal. I was lucky to keep the house when the company folded and its assets were stripped. My parents died when I was a teenager, so there was no one to bail me out.’
Tara looked over the rim of her coffee cup. ‘Enough of the sob story. Tell her about the compensation.’
Faith’s expression was sheepish. ‘OK, so maybe my financial circumstances weren’t as dire as I’m making out. Derek’s accident was caused by a mechanical failure that was supposed to have been fixed. He’d taken his car back to the dealership several times, but my guess is they simply reset the warning light and charged us a small fortune for the privilege. I agreed an out-of-court settlement, but I’m starting to regret it. I could have taken them to the cleaners if I’d been in a better frame of mind, but I’d just lost my husband. Derek’s death was needless, that’s what hurts me most.’
‘That’s awful,’ said April. ‘And what a thing to go through while you were in mourning, although I can understand why you settled. It feels wrong moaning about the money side of things. It shouldn’t be important, should it?’
‘But it’s a reality we can’t ignore,’ Tara replied. ‘Life would be so much simpler if we could deal with the emotional and practical elements of grief separately, but when the worst happens, everything hits you at once. So yes, April, you are allowed to complain about the financial mess you’ve been landed with, to us and the group. And don’t feel guilty about being angry with Jason once in a while.’
April’s laugh was hollow as she pulled the slice of opera cake towards her. She teased a corner of the cake onto her fork and didn’t look up when she said, ‘I’ve been angry with him so much lately.’
Tara’s eyes narrowed. Her instinct had been right – there was more to her story than April had been able to share so far.
‘Do you want to talk about it? Was there something you needed to say at the group meeting but couldn’t?’
Above their heads, there was the roar of an aeroplane climbing to the skies and April finally lifted her gaze.
‘In the months before Jason died … he’d changed. He had been a constant in my life, and suddenly he wasn’t – it was like he was somewhere else, or maybe he just wanted to be. There were times when he wouldn’t look at me and other times when he couldn’t do enough.’
‘But you said at the meeting you thought his change in behaviour could have been linked to his brain haemorrhage,’ Tara said.
April shook her head. ‘It’s what I’ve tried to tell myself, but according to the doctors it would be unlikely. I think Jason was up to something.’
Faith was blunter, as always. ‘Was he having an affair?’
‘It crossed my mind at the time, but not enough for me to accuse him. There was nothing specific, and then shortly before he died everything seemed to right itself. Stupidly, I thought I’d got my old Jason back,’ April said, blinking away tears. ‘And I’m glad I didn’t say anything. He would have died believing I didn’t trust him.’
‘And if he was having an affair, chances are he would have denied it anyway,’ Faith replied.
‘Exactly, but now that he’s not around to challenge, my nagging doubt has become a full-blown obsession. Am I being paranoid? Is this some cruel side effect of grief?’ April asked. She continued to look at Faith: she would pull no punches.
‘We’re blessed with natural instincts for a reason,’ Faith said. ‘Only people with something to hide, or something to hide from, dismiss it as paranoia. Have you checked his messages? His emails?’
‘Yes, and I hated doing it, but I hated myself more when I couldn’t find anything more incriminating than Snapchat on his phone.’
‘Sorry for being a techno-phobe, but why would that mean anything?’ asked Tara.
‘Messages are time-limited. You don’t have to go to the trouble of deleting them and you don’t run the risk of leaving an audit trail behind if something unexpected happens to you,’ April said, mashing her cake with the fork. ‘As far as I was aware, Jason never used it, so why was it on his phone?’
‘And that’s one of the questions you’ve been left with that Jason can’t answer,’ Tara said, recalling April’s lament to the group.
‘It hasn’t stopped me looking,’ April said. ‘I was finally given online access to his bank accounts last month and I’ve been going through his statements line by line. I’m not sure, but I might have found what I was looking for. There were some biggish cash withdrawals before and after Christmas, and I know for a fact Jason hated using cash. I can only presume it was to avoid any record of his purchases.’
Faith leant over the table and took the fork and plate from April before she pebble-dashed them with ganache. ‘Was it enough to buy a hotel room?’
April shrugged, misery etched on her face.
‘I’m sure there are lots of other explanations,’ Tara suggested. She wondered if Jason might have been into drugs, although this theory was only marginally better than the possibility of an affair.
‘Do you have any idea who he might have been seeing?’ asked Faith, having already reached a judgement.
April didn’t answer immediately. ‘Not really, but what Steve said in the group about friends getting involved with other friends’ partners struck a chord. I look at my girlfriends and wonder if one of them is grieving more for Jason than she should. I’m tempted to come right out and ask each and every one of them, but I’m not sure that’s a particular rabbit hole I want to go down.’
‘I’d say that’s a good call,’ Tara said, taking April’s hand and giving it a squeeze. ‘You don’t need to come up with all the answers straight away. Take it one day at a time.’
April glanced down at Tara’s fingers. ‘Is that your wedding ring?’
‘Yes,’ she replied, lifting her right hand to examine the gold band. ‘I swapped it over when I was ready to accept that my future was no longer as Mike’s wife.’
‘Same here,’ Faith said, wriggling the third finger of her right hand.
‘Did you find someone else too?’ April asked.
‘No chance. Don’t get me wrong, I like the idea of love, and I’m over the moon for Tara and Iain, but it’s not for me, not any more. I prefer being in control of my own fate.’
‘I wish I could say the same.’
‘Oh, April,’ said Tara gently. ‘It’s early days and you have a lot to process.’
‘I know, and I can’t tell you how good it feels to talk about this at last.’ April paused and chewed her lip. ‘Will the rest of the group understand? Has anyone else gone through something similar?’
‘None of us had perfect marriages,’ Tara replied. ‘As much as I loved Mike, I spent a lot of time resenting him for stealing my dreams. I had every intention of moving to Paris until I found out I was pregnant. I’m not saying I didn’t love the life we made together, but there’s a reason I’ve created a little corner of Paris in Hale Village.’
Tara wasn’t sure if April noticed she had evaded the question, but Faith did.
‘And you don’t have to raise this in the group if you don’t want to. It’s none of their business, and besides …’ Faith reached over to squeeze April’s hand as Tara had done. ‘You have us.’
Tara couldn’t hold back her smile. She knew Faith would like April. ‘And it’s not as if the main group are ever short of things to talk about, so you’ll still have lots in common with them. You’re not alone, April. Not any more.’
RESPONSES
Petersj @Petersjhome
Replying to @thewidowsclub
I hope the police are investigating this so-called support group of yours. These were vulnerable people you were dealing with. The situation should never have been allowed to get out of hand.
Jodie @iamJPriestly
Replying to @Petersjhome @thewidowsclub
You’re out of order blaming the group. It’s been my lifeline and no one could have predicted what happened.
Leanne Thompson @LTReports
Replying to @iamJPriestly
Hi Jodie, I’m a freelance reporter and would love to hear your story. Can we meet?
Jodie @iamJPriestly
Replying to @LTReports
Fuck off Leanne
4 (#ulink_f20e3ef9-2064-5507-bc3e-b8d54f3e2be5)
The tap of stiletto heels ricocheted off the walls as Faith Cavendish surveyed the empty room. Behind her, she heard the soft wisp of socked feet and the scratch of pencil on paper.
‘Is that everything we agreed?’ she asked.
‘Looks like it,’ the man said, stuffing a tattered sheet of paper into his pocket. He was middle-aged, but his voice sounded older, with the telltale rasp of a smoker. ‘For a small fee, the lads could take those bags of rubbish too.’
Faith followed his gaze. ‘Those bags of rubbish are my husband’s clothes,’ she said, ‘and I’ll decide what to do with them in my own good time. We agreed a fee and I expect payment in full, no deductions.’
The man gave her a broad grin, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. It was a shame because he might be attractive if he were to take better care of himself, not that Faith was interested. The antique dealer’s only appeal was that he had offered the best price for furniture that had been in the house longer than she had.
‘I authorised the payment not ten minutes ago, Mrs Cavendish. It should be in your account if you’d like to check.’
Faith let him wait as she used her phone to access her account. Her balance looked satisfyingly healthy. ‘Fine, we’re done,’ she said.
As she led the way back out onto the landing, there was an echo to the house that hadn’t been there before. Three of the five bedrooms had been emptied during the course of the day, leaving only her bedroom and the home office untouched. She had convinced herself that she wouldn’t notice the difference, but she did. The house had been plundered.
Faith strummed her fingers on her crossed arms as she waited for the dealer to lace up his battered brogues at the front door. She regretted insisting that he and his workforce remove their shoes before entering the house. She wanted them gone, but this remaining invader showed no sign of leaving when he straightened up.
‘If you change your mind about the other pieces we talked about, let me know. I have a buyer who would snap up that dining table.’
‘I’ll bear it in mind.’
‘Or if there’s anything else I can do,’ he said. His grin suggested there was more than a business deal on offer. ‘I’m sure it’s a difficult time for you, but once you find a new place, give me a call.’
He raised his eyebrows expectantly. Faith had given him a sob story about losing her husband and needing to move out to clear his debts and the fool had swallowed it, hence the generous quote. He thought he’d sized her up; a lonely widow in need of a man to save her. How wrong he was on all counts.
She could tell him that she was more than capable of taking care of herself, that she had spent most of her life being happily independent before Derek swept her off her feet, but Faith didn’t explain herself to anyone. ‘As a matter of fact, I’ve already found a place,’ she said. ‘I’m moving to Marbella.’
His grin disappeared. Outmanoeuvred, the would-be Romeo stepped outside, but as he crossed the drive, he took one last cheeky look over his shoulder. ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to send me an invite when you’re settled in Spain?’
Refusing to dignify the comment with a response, Faith was about to shut the door when a woman stepped through the gates the dealer had been closing behind him. Faith’s stepdaughter, Ella, was in her late twenties but had none of the nonchalance of youth. Her back remained stiff as a board as she gave the antique dealer, the van, and then Faith a curious look.
‘You’re moving to Spain?’ she asked.
Reluctantly, Faith opened the door wider and invited Ella inside before the neighbours could hear any more of their conversation. Despite the tall shrubbery and expansive gardens, someone had been snooping: Ella’s arrival on the day a removals van was parked out front was no coincidence.
Derek had warned Faith that his divorce had been acrimonious but his ex-wife’s bitterness was something to behold. Rosemary had been particularly aggrieved that her ex-husband had kept the family home despite her agreeing to a generous divorce settlement and plundering funds that would one day cost Faith her widow’s pension. One or two neighbours had remained loyal to the first Mrs Cavendish, and Faith guessed she had Mr Newton next door to thank for Ella’s arrival. A wronged wife of twenty-odd years was always going to out-trump the usurper widowed after only six.
Faith placed her hands on Ella’s shoulders and air-kissed her on both cheeks. With a reassuring smile, she said, ‘I told him I was leaving the country just to get rid of him.’
Ella’s shoulders remained tense. ‘And who was he?’
‘An antique dealer. I thought it was time to declutter.’
‘You’ve been getting rid of stuff?’
‘I’ve emptied some of the bedrooms, that’s all.’
Ella’s eyes grew wide as her gaze travelled up the sweeping staircase. One of the emptied rooms had been Ella’s bedroom although she hadn’t stayed a single night in the house since the divorce. Derek had let her take everything that was hers and it had remained a rarely used guest room ever since.
‘Sorry, should I have warned you?’
‘I know it’s your furniture and you have a right to do what you want with it,’ Ella replied, ‘but …’
‘You don’t have to tell your mum,’ Faith replied, feeling a swell of sympathy for her stepdaughter, caught in the middle of a battle that was already won as far as Faith was concerned.
‘Can I take a look?’ Ella asked, hanging her coat on the polished oak newel post.
She took the stairs without waiting for a reply and disappeared into the largest of the three emptied rooms. Her old bedroom was bare apart from the bin bags the antique dealer had offered to take away.
‘I can’t decide what to do with those,’ Faith explained when she caught up with Ella. ‘If there’s anything you want, please take it.’
Unable to watch Ella tear open the bags, Faith pulled back a curtain and looked out across the gardens. The detached house was in a prime location in Woolton Village and although it was only six miles from Liverpool city centre, she could see more treetops than rooftops. Glimpsing the dense woodland that marked the boundary of Woolton Golf Course, she felt a pang of sadness as she recalled the raucous dinner parties she had hosted for Derek and his golfing buddies. Her heart suffered another blow when she turned to find Ella scavenging through the remnants of the life that had been wrenched from her.
‘It’s all his rubbish,’ Ella said, straightening up. ‘I don’t want any of it.’
‘Don’t be like that,’ Faith replied, clenching her jaw. ‘He cared a lot about you.’
‘Dad cared only for himself. You’re lucky he didn’t live long enough for you to work that out.’
This was Rosemary talking, not Ella, and any argument would be useless. There were times when Faith wished she could wash her hands of the whole family, but since Derek’s death, she and Ella had formed a friendship of sorts and for as long as Faith remained in this house, she was the curator of Derek’s legacy and his daughter was a part of that.
Faith tipped back her head and blinked hard before returning her gaze to Ella. ‘I loved your father,’ she whispered. ‘Can you at least respect my feelings?’
Ella looked down at the sleeve of a dark suit reaching out from the open neck of a bin bag. She prodded it with her shoe. ‘I’m sorry, but I hate to see you pining away for Dad. You deserve better,’ she said, her voice softening. ‘You know, moving to Spain might not be such a bad idea. Isn’t it time for a fresh start?’
Faith considered her response, knowing it would be reported back word for word. Amongst Rosemary’s many grievances was the terms of Derek’s will, which had seen the lion’s share of his estate left to Faith. What had they expected when Ella had effectively divorced her father in sympathy with her mother? The answer was obvious. They were waiting for a nice little handout should Faith sell up and move away. This was why Ella had been sent over. This was always why.
‘If I do move, you’ll be the first to know.’
‘So you are thinking about it? Is that why you’re emptying the rooms?’
Faith winced before she could disguise her feelings. She had expensive taste and in the last four years, money had been slipping through her fingers at an alarming rate. She had tried to cut back, going as far as taking a two-week cruise this year instead of the usual four, but it wasn’t enough, and the proceeds from the sale of furniture was no more than a stopgap. Not that she’d ever admit as much to Ella or anyone else for that matter.
‘Come on, let’s go downstairs. I’ve missed lunch and I’m ravenous,’ Faith said. ‘I saw my friend Tara the other day and she sent me home with the most delicious cake.’
‘I care about you, Faith,’ Ella said, not easily distracted. ‘You’re still young. You need to move on.’
‘Thank you for your concern,’ Faith replied, ‘but your efforts would be better spent helping Rosemary to move on. I’m happy where I am and as far as I’m concerned, the only way I’ll be leaving here is in a box.’
As Faith approached the village hall, she caught a glimpse through the window of Steve and a couple of the others rearranging the chairs for their meeting. The foyer meanwhile was devoid of life, although someone had been busy setting out mugs on the trestle table and there was a tower of pre-packaged muffins sitting next to them. Following the sound of a running tap, she found Justine in the kitchen: undoubtedly the culprit responsible for the supermarket fare.
‘Evening.’
‘Oh, hi, Faith,’ Justine said, her ponytail flicking like a horse’s tail as she turned. ‘Tara’s running late, I’m afraid, so I offered to come in early. Thankfully, my mum’s a godsend when it comes to childminding.’
‘A relief, I’m sure, but I can’t imagine it’s something you want to be doing every time,’ Faith replied.
Justine finished filling the kettle and set it to boil. ‘It’s no biggie. We all know Tara has her hands full at the moment,’ she said as she rinsed out the flasks. She had yet to take a pause and the point Faith was attempting to make sailed over her head.
Faith was about to try again when a deep voice close to her ear gave her a start.
‘Can I help with anything?’
She turned to find a stranger in their midst with dark brown hair and a sprinkling of grey at his temples. Dimples puckered his cheeks when he smiled, but it was his pale blue eyes that demanded Faith’s attention.
‘You came back then?’ said Justine. She went to shake his hand, but water dripped from her fingers and she grabbed the first thing she could find to dry them on. It was the tote bag with its cheesy quote that Faith hated. ‘Faith, this is Nick, one of our new members. Why don’t you get to know each other and leave me to it?’
‘Are you sure you can manage on your own?’ Faith asked.
Justine almost dropped a flask. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Honestly, go.’
Nick stepped back to allow Faith through the door and placed his hand close to but not touching the small of her back as they returned to the foyer. ‘Have you been involved with the group long?’ he asked.
‘About three years.’
They paused at a coat stand and Faith watched him slip out of his heavy woollen coat to reveal a dark grey suit that looked hand-stitched. ‘And how was your initiation into our little enclave?’ she asked.
‘Just what I needed,’ Nick confessed. ‘For the first time, I feel like I can grieve properly.’ He paused, momentarily distracted as he looked over Faith’s shoulder. ‘Ah, great. April’s made it back too. Let’s go over and I’ll introduce you.’
‘Not necessary,’ Faith said, and as they went to greet April, it was Faith who placed her hand on Nick’s back to guide him.
April appeared even more vulnerable than when they had first met, if that were at all possible. Her cheeks were hollow and her padded jacket made her look top heavy in comparison to her spindly legs wrapped in black Lycra. Faith didn’t normally warm to people who looked ready to break rather than bend in a storm, but there was something about April that resonated.
Whilst there had been no other woman in Derek’s life, Faith had felt betrayed by his death all the same. Derek had promised her a life of wedded bliss and she blamed him, in part, for making her a widow. Suing the car dealership had been her way of channelling that anger and frustration, but for April, they would need to find some other form of release.
Reaching her side, Faith went in for a hug just as April was slipping out of her jacket, and the embrace took her by surprise. When they untangled themselves, April was smiling.
‘I bet you didn’t expect to see me again.’
Faith spotted a damp autumn leaf stuck in April’s hair and pulled it off. ‘I would have hunted you down, if I hadn’t.’
‘Is Tara here yet?’
‘No, but she will be,’ Faith told her. ‘I take it you’ve met Nick.’
April was swallowed up in a second hug and kept her shoulders hunched when she pulled away.
‘I was wondering if I should have offered you a lift,’ Nick said.
‘Oh, no, it’s fine. I live all the way over in Eastham.’
‘It’s a nice place,’ said Nick. ‘Have you lived there long?’
‘Barring the time I lived with Jason, all my life. It’s my parents’ house,’ April said. ‘But I’m only staying there until I can afford to move out.’
‘I’m surprised you can’t. Didn’t you say your husband worked for one of the councils? The Merseyside Pension Fund is a good investment …’ His words tailed off and his mouth twisted. ‘I’m so sorry, that was completely inappropriate. I used to be an investment banker and I was forgetting where I was.’
‘Yes, you were,’ admonished Faith.
‘It’s OK,’ replied April, blushing on behalf of Nick. Her eyes narrowed when she added, ‘Unfortunately Jason opted out of the pension scheme when he started work, not thinking through the consequences of his actions.’
‘That’s men for you,’ added Faith.
‘On behalf of all mankind, I’m sorry,’ Nick said, holding Faith’s gaze until she gave in and smiled.
It was April who filled the pause. ‘I still haven’t worked out what to wear to these things.’ She pulled self-consciously at the hem of her man-sized Game of Thrones T-shirt, a memento from her marriage if Faith wasn’t mistaken. ‘I feel completely underdressed next to you two.’
‘Oh, don’t let this fool you,’ Nick said, loosening his tie. ‘I had to come straight from work.’
‘And what is it you do if you’re no longer in finance?’ asked Faith.
‘I run a fleet of limousines. Basically, I’m a glorified chauffeur.’
‘So you’re a businessman,’ Faith corrected. She didn’t agree with people underselling themselves.
‘Trying to be,’ he replied. ‘And what do you do, Faith?’
‘I’m a biomedical scientist: I examine human tissue and pick out the cancer cells from the normal ones.’ It was a skill she wished she could apply as easily to a person’s character. She was still trying to work out Nick, who wasn’t anything like she had imagined when Tara had described him. He didn’t look the type to cry, but she would like to see it.
‘And are you from the other side of the water too?’ he asked.
‘No, Woolton.’
‘We’re practically neighbours then. I’m from Hunt’s Cross.’
They compared notes on favourite eateries until Faith spied Justine carrying two flasks of hot water over to the tables. ‘About time too. Come on, let’s get our drinks.’
The three were temporarily separated as more people arrived and wanted to chat. While Jodie and Nadiya made a fuss of April, Faith kept an eye on the door, but as seven o’clock approached, Tara failed to make an appearance. Nick had been pulled into a conversation with Steve and some of the other men, but he returned to April and Faith when Justine began directing them to their seats like a traffic cop.
Faith ignored Justine’s instructions and laid claim to three chairs of her choice. She sat down on the first, but April and Nick became flustered when they both went to take the seat next to her.
‘Sorry, you take it,’ said Nick, the now familiar dimples appearing in his cheeks. ‘I don’t know why I’m so nervous.’
‘Me neither,’ April said.
In a show of chivalry, Nick took a step back and sat down on the third chair, leaving the gap next to Faith for April to fill, but before she could take it, she was distracted by the arrival of Tara and Iain. She turned to wave and by the time she turned back, Justine had claimed the much fought-after middle seat.
‘Shall we get started?’ Justine said loudly, seemingly unaware of April’s displacement.
‘Here, take my place,’ Nick said.
Before he could stand, Justine placed a hand on his arm. ‘It’s probably best that you stay close to me for the first few sessions. April, you can sit over there next to Tara.’
‘Apologies for being late, everyone,’ Tara said once they were all settled. She was out of breath but didn’t pause as she went on to open the meeting.
‘It’s good to see you back, Iain,’ Justine said the moment they had dispensed with the introductions and updates. ‘How are things?’
‘Challenging.’
‘Not because of me I should add,’ Tara added, causing a ripple of laughter around the room.
‘Definitely not you,’ he replied, taking Tara’s hand and giving it a squeeze. ‘The good news is our solicitor doesn’t see any reason why we can’t complete the house move before Christmas.’
‘Not that everyone will find that cause for celebration,’ Tara warned.
‘My in-laws aren’t particularly happy with our plans. They think it’s too soon,’ Iain said. For Nick and April’s benefit, he added, ‘It’s been three years since Joanna died and I’ll admit, it still hurts like hell. I didn’t plan to fall in love again, but I have and I’m ready to do this. Unfortunately my in-laws live in Newcastle so they don’t see the difference Tara has made to our lives.’
‘Has Lily come around to the idea yet?’ asked Faith.
‘She’s quietly accepting – more quiet than accepting if I’m honest,’ Iain said. ‘I just hope her grandparents don’t reverse what little progress we’ve made when she visits them over half-term.’
‘It’s funny how everyone has an opinion on how we should grieve,’ Jodie said. ‘First they’re telling you to get out more, and the next thing they want you to slow down.’
Faith guessed Jodie had a story to tell. One comment could send the group off on a tangent, but Tara was there to make sure they kept their focus on one issue at a time. She was good at that. Better than Justine.
‘Iain’s going to have a word with them beforehand to make sure they don’t give Lily mixed messages,’ Tara said. ‘With so much upheaval, what she needs from all of us is consistency. We’re hoping they’ll come around.’
‘I hate to say it but they’ll have to if they want to be a part of their granddaughter’s life,’ said Iain. ‘I know they’re grieving too, but Lily’s welfare has to come first.’
There were mumbles of agreement and a couple of members went on to share their experiences of juggling relationships with their late partners’ families, but once the subject had reached its natural conclusion, Tara turned to April and Nick.
‘And how have you both been since the last meeting?’
Of the two, Faith expected Nick to speak up, but he simply nodded for April to go first. To Faith’s surprise, his encouragement worked.
‘I’ve been better,’ April replied. ‘I’m still trying to work out how I feel and how I want to feel, if that makes sense?’
‘That’s the one thing you learn fast here,’ Nadiya said. ‘What you’re going through might sound confusing, alarming or downright weird to other people, but to us it’s normal. You’re not alone.’
‘I’m starting to realise that,’ April said. She glanced across to Faith when she added, ‘It’s a relief to know I don’t have to keep all my thoughts locked away, although I’m not quite ready to tell everyone everything.’
‘You can be selective,’ Faith said. ‘We all are.’
April pulled at her T-shirt. ‘It’s like when people ask if I’ve watched the final season of Game of Thrones yet and I feel stupid explaining why I can’t. Jason and I always watched it together, and I’m so angry that he died before the finale aired. I can’t watch it without him.’
The chair next to Faith squeaked as Justine straightened up. ‘Anger is perfectly natural, April,’ she said. ‘It’s one of the five stages of grief that we all process over time.’
‘Oh, please, not this,’ Faith muttered.
‘Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and finally, acceptance,’ Justine recited.
‘Not that everyone experiences grief in such nice, neat stages,’ Tara said diplomatically. Like Faith, she questioned the efficacy of applying that particular grief model like a Band-Aid.
‘Of course not,’ Justine said. ‘Some people don’t experience every stage, or not necessarily in that order, and it’s perfectly normal to go back and forth between the stages.’
‘Or to put it another way,’ Faith said, ‘you’ll experience a lot of different emotions to greater or lesser degrees and at random times. Some days you might go through all five stages at once, or is it seven now, I lose track?’
‘The stages are helpful to some people,’ Justine insisted.
‘I’m sure they are,’ Faith said through gritted teeth, ‘but for others it can be downright distressing, especially when someone with all the best intentions tells them that they should be at this particular stage or another. We are where we are. There’s no road map.’
‘Some of us seem to have become stuck on the anger stage,’ Justine said, jutting out her chin.
‘I have a lot to be angry about, Justine. Derek didn’t need to die.’
‘But at some point you have to move past that stage.’
‘And move on to bargaining? Give me a break.’
Unlike Justine, Faith’s understanding of the psychology of grief hadn’t come from a Sunday magazine supplement; in fact, she had read extensively on the subject. Returning to April, she said, ‘Did you know that the five-stage grief model was originally developed by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross after observing terminally ill patients? She expanded it later to include other types of loss but even she noted that popular culture had misunderstood her theory. The stages aren’t supposed to be linear or predictable, if they exist at all.’
‘I have heard quite a few people mention the stages I’m supposed to go through.’
‘Yeah, Mrs Do-goody down the road and the bloke who delivers the newspapers,’ Faith said.
She turned her head and was about to give Justine her best withering look when Nick caught her eye. She couldn’t tell if the spark in his eyes was fear or admiration. After taking a breath, Faith released it with a sigh. ‘Maybe I am holding on to my anger, but sometimes that’s what gets me through the day. All I’m saying is that theories are made to be disproved and there are scientists better qualified than me to offer alternative grief models.’
‘There’s one based on continuing bonds,’ Tara said, her soft voice adding balm to the discussion. ‘It’s where we redefine our relationship with our loved one, finding ways to keep them with us by allowing their influences to play a part in our new lives. There’s no end stage, no point where we have to find closure and put the past behind us. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, wondering if there’s a way for Lily and Molly to keep Joanna and Mike as a part of our new family.’
‘I can understand how Lily must feel having to move home,’ said Faith. ‘My beautiful house is the strongest connection I have with Derek, but if we’re talking about continuing bonds, his legacy goes far beyond the materialistic trappings of life. It broke my heart when I took the decision to withdraw his life support, but I made the right choice when I agreed to donate his organs. It comforts me to know four people are alive today because of him.’
‘I talk to my wife’s photo all the time and ask her advice,’ Steve said. ‘I can feel her pushing me out the door when all I want to do is lock myself away. It’s why I managed to drag myself here in the first place.’
‘And Justine and I would never have set up the group if it wasn’t for Mike and Lisa,’ Tara added. ‘Our paths have all taken a turn we never expected, but when we do something to challenge ourselves, it’s nice to be able to glance over our shoulders and say thank you, I did that because of you.’
‘Erin’s death devastated me.’ Nick was staring at the floor so he didn’t see every face turn in his direction. ‘After she died, I completely shut down,’ he continued. ‘I lost everything and that might have been her legacy, but she deserved better from me. She always did.’ He tried to continue but his voice caught in his throat. ‘Sorry.’
Justine reached over to touch his hand. ‘I’m sure Erin would be proud of you for being here.’
Nick straightened up as Justine pulled her hand away. ‘Actually, she’d probably tell me to man up. She said that a lot.’
‘That won’t do you any good here, mate,’ Steve told him. ‘It’s the one place where you don’t have to hide your feelings.’
‘I think that was part of the problem, but I’m happy to report I’ve been turning things around,’ Nick replied. ‘After losing my job, I put on loads of weight to the point where people stopped recognising me. Then I realised it was the one part of my life I could control, so I hit the gym and literally worked out my frustrations.’
‘I’ve tried working out,’ April said, ‘but I can’t say it made me feel any better.’
‘Give it time,’ Nick said. ‘I was lifting weights when I had this lightbulb moment about starting a limo business. I invested every last penny into it and, touch wood, it’s going well.’
‘As are you,’ Jodie said.
‘I have my moments. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to pull over so I can bawl my eyes out. But just in case anyone’s thinking of using my services, I don’t usually break down when I have passengers in the back.’
‘Letting loose my emotions while driving is my speciality,’ Steve admitted. ‘I have two teenage lads and the last thing they want to see is me snivelling.’
‘Thankfully, I don’t have kids,’ replied Nick, ‘but respect to those who have to deal with someone else’s grief as well as their own.’
When Nick glanced at Faith, she felt compelled to respond. ‘I have a grown-up stepdaughter, but I gave up trying to manage her feelings a long time ago.’
The comment was the perfect segue into the broader topic of difficult relationships, and nearly everyone had a contribution to make. By the time Iain returned to his problems with his in-laws, it felt like the conversation had come full circle and Tara suggested they break up early, leaving time for another coffee and Justine’s untouched muffins.
While Tara was cornered by Jodie, Faith went to join April in the foyer and Nick followed. They chatted for a while, but when the discussion turned to fitness regimes, Faith saw it as the perfect opportunity to leave them to it. She had unfinished business.
Justine was understandably wary when she was pulled to one side, but Faith’s expression was full of concern when she said, ‘These meetings appear so seamless but I was thinking about what you said before about juggling childcare. It made me appreciate the extra effort you’ve taken tonight,’ she said. ‘How are things at home? It must be tough.’
‘Oh, we manage.’
Faith leant forward. ‘Only manage?’
‘Well, let’s just say it’s not easy now that Isla’s graduated to secondary school. Two school runs before work are a daily challenge, I can tell you.’
‘No wonder the strain has been showing,’ Faith said, placing a hand gently on Justine’s arm. ‘You spend so much time supporting the newer members, it’s easy to forget that you need support too. I’m sorry if I was a tad harsh on you in the meeting.’
‘Oh gosh, it’s fine,’ insisted Justine. ‘If you can’t be honest and open in the meeting, where can you?’
‘The same applies to you, remember that,’ Faith said, her tone one of sympathy. ‘You must be worried about Tara. She’s another one with her hands full, and I know she thinks we could carry on without her but how would we fill the void? She’s been dropping hints about me taking over if she leaves. Can you imagine?’
Justine paled. ‘No, not really.’
‘Exactly, but I can’t see you coping on your own either. We need to look after both of you. Don’t suffer alone.’
‘That’s very kind of you, Faith, but I … I’m fine, honestly.’
Through the crowd, Faith spied Nick coming to join them. The timing was perfect. ‘That’s super,’ she said, releasing her grip on Justine’s arm. ‘Here, I’ll leave you two to it.’
She stepped away, but Nick pursued her.
‘I’m heading off,’ he explained, ‘but it was a pleasure meeting you, Faith.’
‘I’ll see you next month then.’
‘You couldn’t keep me away,’ he promised. ‘But I was thinking it might be an idea to set up a WhatsApp group.’
Faith wrinkled her nose. ‘We made a stab at using it at work, but all those pinging messages were so irritating. I muted all the conversations.’
‘I hope you won’t do that to me,’ Nick said, tilting the phone in his hand.
‘I can’t promise,’ Faith said. In the pause that followed, she realised he was waiting to take down her phone number. She reeled it out without thinking.
STATEMENT
The Widows’ Club @thewidowsclub
We are saddened by the distasteful remarks on social media and in the tabloid press but are unable to respond to criticism whilst the police investigation is ongoing. The incident was a tragedy and we ask that people be respectful.
5 (#ulink_4fa151fc-d9f6-59cf-8227-4ca71c0bc703)
April lay on her back listening to the rattle of raindrops hitting her bedroom window. Darkness pressed against her closed lids and tried to push her back towards sleep as she struggled to work out if she had to get up for work. The sun hadn’t risen, but that meant nothing. It was nearing the end of October and the days were getting shorter. Winter was on its way, which immediately laid a trail of languid thoughts towards Christmas.
They had bought a beautiful blue spruce last year and the memory of decorating the tree evoked the smell of woodland and the taste of mulled wine. Jason would recall only how he had picked pine needles out of his socks throughout January – except, April’s weary brain told her, he wouldn’t.
Pain stabbed at her heart, making April gasp, and she wrapped her arms tightly around her body. She stayed like that until she lost track of time and consciousness, but even as she slumbered, she was aware of the space in the bed next to her. When the duvet moved, she let out a whimper and was pulled into a dream not of her choosing.
Bright light flooded the room and April snapped her eyes open to catch sight of Jason jumping out of bed. Wearing only shorts, his skin glowed a healthy pink. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body and everything about him felt real. She needed him to be real.
‘You’re here,’ she said, her voice catching.
‘Of course I am. Where else would I be?’ he asked, looking around the flat they had shared together.
‘I thought …’ she began, raising herself on to her elbow. She didn’t want to mention his death for fear of breaking the spell. ‘I don’t know. I’m just glad you’re here.’
Jason’s features twisted. ‘You thought I was with another woman.’
‘I didn’t. I never—’
‘Don’t lie to me, April. Don’t lie to yourself,’ he warned. ‘How could you think I’d cheat on you? I don’t understand why you don’t trust me. What did I do wrong?’
‘You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me. I’m being paranoid. I’m sorry,’ she cried.
He fixed her with a stare. ‘Why do you hate me so much?’
‘I don’t. I love you.’
‘Liar,’ he snarled.
‘I’m not.’
‘Go on, spit it out. Tell me why you hate me.’
April drew herself up so she was kneeling on the bed. She had longed to confront Jason, and this was her chance.
‘Say it, April.’
‘Fine then!’ she yelled. ‘I hate you because you died! You’re dead, Jason! You lay down next to me and you just died. There was no goodbye. No warning.’ Her voice grew weaker. ‘You left me alone with your cold, dead body. It was horrible. It still is.’ She clawed at the bedclothes, but her anger was spent and only the pain remained. ‘The only person who could have helped me through something like that is gone. If you loved me so much, why do that to me? Why Jason?’
As quickly as it came, the vision dissolved and darkness filled the room. It filled April’s lungs too and she struggled for breath. Panic consumed her as she fought her way out of the dream, and with one final, shuddering gasp, she opened her eyes. She was no longer kneeling but lying on her back. Above her head in the gloom, she could make out the limp paper lampshade that hung in her old bedroom at her parents’ house.
Covering her face with her hands, April let the tears confined to her dream seep into the real world. She recalled her angry words and hoped she hadn’t screamed them out loud. She held her breath and listened, but there was no sound except the thudding of her heart, which skipped a beat when she felt movement beside her again. Something cold touched her cheek.
‘Oh, Jesus,’ she whispered, recoiling until she remembered who was in bed with her. She allowed herself a smile as a wet tongue licked away her salty tears. She could hear the thud of a tail hitting the mattress as she turned to face her companion. ‘You scared the shit out of me, Dexter.’
Since moving back home, her mum’s cockapoo had been allowed to break the house rules and sleep upstairs. He was meant to guard against April’s nightmares, but the dog’s nocturnal movements had been responsible for the dark path her mind had just taken her down.
With Dexter’s head resting on her chest, April threaded her fingers through curls of fur and sought to hold on to the silvery threads of the dream she ought to let go. She had told Jason she hated him and she had meant it. She did hate him, or at least she hated the dead Jason. He had every reason to be mad with her. She was doubting him, and she couldn’t be sure he deserved it.
Joining the group had made April look at her grief with a more critical eye, and each member had offered a different perspective. She hadn’t been sure what to make of Faith at first. She wasn’t as warm or as open as Tara, but there were times when April caught a reflection of her own grief in Faith’s eyes. The difference was that Faith didn’t try to hide the kind of fury that April could only acknowledge in her dreams.
Whether it could be called a stage of grief or not, anger was a very real part of April’s grieving process, as were the doubts she nurtured about Jason’s character. She wanted to hate him, and convincing herself that he had been unfaithful was a neat way to validate that rage. She needed to be more like Faith and be honest about that. She had audited Jason’s life and found nothing more than a handful of cash withdrawals. It was another change of behaviour that could be linked to what was going on in his brain. Doctors didn’t know everything. It was time to let go of this idea that Jason wasn’t worth breaking her heart over.
Turning onto her side, April snuggled up to Dexter, and the malleable mutt obliged by spooning with her. The soporific sound of the dog’s snoring relaxed April’s body and mind. She smiled, having finally worked out that it was Saturday and she could doze a little longer before paying a visit to the cemetery to make an overdue apology.
Taking the path around the side of the church, April filtered out the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bleat of a car horn, and concentrated only on the crunch of autumn leaves underfoot. She and Jason hadn’t been churchgoers, but his parents had wanted him buried here and it was one less decision for April to make when there had been so many others being forced upon her.
Eight months on, some decisions were yet to be made. Moving back home was meant to be a temporary arrangement and, whilst her parents were happy to keep her in the nest to rest her wings, April was no fledgling. Her so-called messiness clashed with their organised clutter, her binges on box sets were countered by daily doses of soap drama, and the rock music that got her moving in the morning chimed against the murmurings of Radio Four.
She envied her fellow group members who had a vision of what their new lives should look like, whether or not they were there yet. Even Nick had some idea of where he was going and what he wanted to achieve, and he had looked surprised and saddened when she had mentioned living with her parents. Every one of them was a survivor, while in contrast April remained a victim, trapped beneath the wreckage of a life that had collapsed around her. To escape, she had thought she needed to dismantle everything, including her marriage, but after her most recent nightmare, she realised she had gone too far.
April passed the ramshackle rows of headstones nearest the church without pausing to read the weather-worn names of the husbands and wives whose cherished memories had been eroded by time. The section of the graveyard reserved for its newest committals was hidden from view by a row of firs, but, as April approached, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.
Her pace slowed and the crunch of leaves became a whisper lost to the soughing of the evergreens. No one would hear her approach and, as she dipped beneath the shade of a tree, she tensed, preparing for that first glimpse of Jason’s imagined lover. Wisps of her dream floated through her mind until tears blurred her vision. She was looking for someone who didn’t exist.
The white marble of Jason’s headstone sparkled in the sunshine but offered no warmth as April trailed a finger across her husband’s name. She knelt down in front of the patch of earth where his cremated remains had been interred, marked by a square of marble filled with pale frosted pebbles and a spray of white lilies. On another day, April might have questioned who had left them, but not today. They could only be from his mum, who made regular visits to tend his grave, although April doubted Jason would appreciate the flowers. He would much prefer the bottle of beer she took from her pocket and placed upright in front of the headstone.
‘I don’t know if you played any part in my dream this morning,’ she whispered, ‘but you need to know that I don’t hate you. I hate that everything in my life has to be transformed into something other than us. I hate that you left me, Jay.’
April stroked the velvet petals of a lily and when her fingertip pricked on the calling card, she told herself that turning it so the writing faced her was accidental. The message was from a mother to her beloved son, as April knew it would be. The futile search for tokens left by another woman had to stop.
‘I took what we had and tried to turn it into something I’d gladly throw away. I didn’t want to think about how happy you made me,’ she said as tears slipped down her face unchecked. ‘But you did make me happy.’
April poked at the flower spray. The edges of the lilies were yellowing, and a couple had grown limp and brown. She suspected Jason’s mum would return tomorrow with a fresh spray, but April didn’t want to leave decaying flowers on his grave. Her shoulders shook as she picked out the dead blooms from the arrangement.
‘I love you, Jason and I know you loved me. Please forgive me. I’m so sorry.’
April went to cover her face with her hands, but the movement unbalanced her and she fell forward. She grabbed hold of the marble border and stared downwards past the lilies, as though she could see through the earth to the small oak box containing ash and broken dreams.
‘I miss you so much,’ she cried over and over as her tears trickled down her nose and splashed onto the thinned-out spray of bruised petals. Still sobbing, she pushed the arrangement out of the way and sank her hands into the misshapen pieces of smooth glass mixed with dead leaves and the detritus of a summer Jason had never seen. She grabbed handfuls of the pebbles and watched helplessly as they slipped through her fingers.
As one particular stone dropped, she noticed it was whiter than the rest, and when she picked it up again, it didn’t feel as cold. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she realised the pebble wasn’t glass at all. White and smooth, it appeared to be a flattened oval, but as April explored its circumference with her fingers, she noticed a dip in the centre of one of its longer edges. Turning it on its side, there was no mistaking the shape of a heart.
Squinting, April examined every millimetre of the stone. She rubbed her thumb over one side and felt a roughness that wasn’t on the other. There was a scratched engraving so faint it was difficult, but not impossible to read with the naked eye: April stared at it long enough for her tears to dry.
Her nose was blocked and her throat hurt each time she attempted to swallow back the lump of dread. This token of love had not been dropped casually, or placed gently on her husband’s grave. It had been buried out of sight. It was a gesture to be shared privately between the giver and the man whose remains lay beneath the dirt. April wasn’t meant to see it.
After months of torturing herself with guilty thoughts of betrayal, April had visited the cemetery to bury her doubts, but instead she had unearthed a secret. The warm stone burned her palm and she was tempted to hurl it across the rows of headstones and into oblivion where it belonged, but instead she dropped it into her pocket.
Her breath came out in short, shallow gasps as she fought to contain the anger and the pain. She brushed off the mud clinging to her jeans and glared at Jason’s headstone, too angry to speak. She was about to walk away when she caught sight of the bottle of beer she had left. She picked it up and in a move Jason had taught her, used the corner of the headstone and the side of her hand to knock off the bottle top. The beer tasted as bitter as her thoughts.
6 (#ulink_0258b270-30bc-55c0-8a47-7bfd6803606f)
The fluffy dog sprinting across Pickering’s Pasture towards Tara looked like a Steiff teddy brought to life, with its tongue lolling and ears flapping. At the end of a rapidly extending leash was April, one arm stretched forward and the other trailing behind. Tara made the mistake of bending forward to greet the dog and he ploughed straight into her.
‘Oh Tara, I’m so sorry,’ April panted as she caught sight of the muddy paw marks smeared over her caped coat. ‘Dexter, will you sit still for one minute. I said sit!’
Dexter emitted an excited whine but otherwise ignored his mistress and continued to add streaks of ochre to the velvety blue of Tara’s coat. ‘It’s fine, it’s only second-hand,’ Tara said, choosing not to use the word vintage.
April’s cheeks burned as she pulled a bag of dog treats from her pocket. The cold breeze carried the scent, and with the next command, Dexter sat down and wriggled his bottom into the earth as he waited for his reward.
‘He doesn’t deserve this,’ April muttered as she threw a treat into the air for Dexter to catch. ‘He’s good most of the time but he only really listens to Mum.’
‘He’s unbelievably cute. Molly would be beside herself.’
‘I thought you might bring her with you.’
‘It’s half-term so she’s spending a few days at Mum’s while Lily’s visiting her grandparents in Newcastle. They’ll both be back for Halloween, but for now I’m enjoying some child-free time. And besides,’ Tara added, ‘I got the impression from your messages that you might prefer to talk without the interruptions of a squealing ten-year-old. So how are you?’
April yanked the lead to stop Dexter launching himself at Tara again and said, ‘Maybe we should start walking.’
‘OK, but let’s stay within sight of the car park for now. Faith shouldn’t be long.’
As they made their way down a sloping hill to the footpath that followed the banks of the Mersey, Tara expected April to explain what was behind her invitation to take a Sunday stroll, but instead she asked, ‘How’s the house move going?’
‘We’re on target to complete contracts by early December,’ Tara replied, rubbing her jaw. It had been aching for days and she suspected she was grinding her teeth in her sleep. ‘Six weeks and counting.’
‘I’m so happy for you,’ April said, but her voice cracked. Recovering quickly, she added, ‘Are the girls excited yet?’
‘We’re making progress of sorts. Molly made me an offer the other night that I couldn’t refuse.’
As April turned to Tara, she held up a hand to shield her face from the low sun. Dark shadows bruised her eyes. ‘Why do you make it sound like that’s a bad thing?’
‘We had a bit of a conundrum with the new house,’ Tara began. ‘Of the two bedrooms for the girls, one is a double and the other a tiny box room. Iain suggested they draw straws and when Molly won, Lily said she didn’t care, she would go and live with Joanna’s parents. The whole thing was about to degenerate into a family meltdown when Molly quietly suggested that she didn’t mind taking the smaller room if it meant Lily would stay … and if I agreed to get her a dog for Christmas.’
‘Wow, she’s some negotiator.’
‘I’ve told her I’ll only consider getting some sort of pet when we’re settled, and she seems happy with that for now.’
‘And Lily?’ asked April.
‘We’ll see what happens.’
‘It’s the unknown that scares her.’
‘It scares us all,’ Tara replied as they reached the river’s edge. ‘What’s wrong, April?’
Her friend looked across the water towards Ince Marshes where the brutal industrial landscape cut into the horizon. ‘Maybe we should wait for Faith.’
‘Did someone mention my name?’
Dexter had been digging up sods of earth on the embankment, but stopped at the sound of a new voice. His hindquarters tensed as he prepared to launch himself at Faith, who was wearing a full-length woollen coat in a beautiful shade of olive green.
Faith peered at the dog over the rim of her sunglasses. ‘Down!’ she said in a low growl.
Dexter pressed his body to the ground while April’s jaw dropped. ‘Here, you take him,’ she said, offering the leash.
‘Good grief, no. I can’t stand dogs. I’m more of a cat person.’
‘I didn’t know you had any pets,’ April said.
‘I don’t, but if I had to choose, it would be a cat. They seem less needy.’
‘You make a good point,’ Tara said as she watched Dexter slink away from Faith to hide behind April. His lower half was caked in mud and he no longer looked like a teddy bear that anyone would want to cuddle. Perhaps she should have brought Molly with her.
‘Which way should we go?’ asked April when Dexter resumed tugging on his leash.
They had the option of walking upriver for a closer view of the bridges spanning the Mersey at Runcorn, but Tara turned her back on the sun, and they set off on the path that skirted the edge of the pasture and led to an ancient duck decoy cut out of the salt marshes to attract water fowl. ‘We might be able to spot Hale lighthouse across the marshes.’
‘I imagine this would be quite a nice route for a jog,’ said Faith.
‘You’re taking up running?’ asked April.
‘No, I meant for you,’ Faith replied. ‘You seemed very interested in Nick’s fitness regime. I thought you two might have formulated a plan by now.’
Faith’s comment sounded innocent, but Tara picked up an undertone. Did she think there was something developing between the group’s newest members? Tara had seen April and Nick talking after the last meeting, but when she had gone over to join them, April had looked relieved to have the extra company. If there was any interest, it was one-sided.
‘He hasn’t been pestering you, has he?’ asked Tara.
April’s laugh held no mirth. ‘No. And how could he? He doesn’t have my number.’
‘But he—’ Faith snapped her mouth shut before she could finish her sentence.
‘What?’ demanded Tara. ‘You didn’t give it to him, did you?’
‘Of course not,’ she said. It wasn’t often that Faith was wrong-footed, but she sounded unsure when she added, ‘He mentioned setting up a WhatsApp group, that’s all, and I presumed you’d all swapped numbers.’
‘He never mentioned it to me. Do you think he needs more support than a monthly meet-up?’ asked Tara. ‘According to Justine, his only family is one sister. Could he be reaching out?’
‘He’s not shown any interest in going over to the pub whenever Steve’s asked,’ April said. ‘I get the impression he’s the type who prefers women’s company.’
Tara was inclined to agree. Nick did appear more at ease talking to the female members of the group, in fact she could remember him making a point of saying goodbye to Faith. She could see Nick with his phone in his hand. ‘Did he ask you for your number, Faith?’
She huffed rather than give an answer. ‘Was there a point to coming out today? I thought you had some news for us, April.’
When April dug her hand into her pocket, Dexter’s ears pricked at the rustle of the treat bag, but the object she pulled out was smooth and white.
‘I found this on Jason’s grave,’ she said, unfurling her fingers.
The three women stopped to gather around April’s open palm. Her hand shook, not least because Dexter had lost interest in them and was straining on his leash again.
‘Here give me that,’ Faith said, taking the leash and yanking it hard. ‘Hey, you!’
Dexter froze immediately. The leash relaxed.
‘Come here, sit down, and be quiet.’
The dog crept towards her, tail between his legs.
‘I said sit!’
White crescent moons rimmed the dog’s eyes as he sat down and gazed up at Faith. For the moment at least, they could concentrate on the object in April’s trembling hand.
‘What is it?’ asked Tara.
April lifted the stone between her finger and thumb and turned it from side to side so it caught the light. ‘It’s a heart,’ she said. ‘I found it on Jason’s grave. Someone had hidden it there.’
‘Can I?’ asked Faith. She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and held the stone inches from her nose. Her eyes narrowed. ‘Are those random scratches, or could it be writing?’
‘I’ve been staring at that bloody thing all night,’ admitted April. ‘I can make out a J and what might be a T for Jason’s initials, but it’s in the middle, so maybe it’s a plus sign.’
‘I think it’s a plus sign,’ agreed Faith, ‘and there are more scratches to the left of it, but that’s harder to read. Is it an S?’
‘It could be,’ April said with a shrug.
Taking back the stone and the leash from Faith, April set off again and the others followed. Dexter kept checking for Faith’s approval. He was no longer leading the pack.
‘It doesn’t matter what the scratchings say, at least not completely. It’s what they represent. Jason plus someone else – someone who isn’t me,’ April said. ‘I’d almost convinced myself I was being paranoid and the cash withdrawals meant nothing. What an idiot am I? Totally trusting while he was alive and still ignoring what my subconscious has been screaming at me for the best part of a year.’
‘I’m so sorry, April,’ said Tara. She wanted to put an arm around her, but Faith was between them and as yet, she hadn’t realised that April needed the human touch.
‘I notice neither of you has said there’s some other explanation.’
‘It’s possible the stone ended up on Jason’s grave by accident,’ Faith said, digging her hands into her pockets. ‘A child could have picked it up from another grave and discarded it in the wrong place. But, when you consider the coincidence that the inscription includes the letter J, together with the bank account evidence and the doubts you had before Jason died, it does make for a compelling case.’
‘What about you, Tara? What do you think?’
Tara walked in silence for a while. She wanted nothing more than for April to find some form of resolution and the simplest and least painful way for that to happen was to give up on the idea that Jason had secrets. Unfortunately, the heart-shaped stone pointed down a rockier path. ‘No amount of talking is going to convince you one way or the other,’ she said. ‘You claim the letter that might be an S doesn’t matter, but is there a name that springs to mind?’
‘I don’t know everyone in Jason’s life, particularly his working life,’ April said. ‘I never audited the Highways Section because of the conflict of interest. I’ve met some of the staff, and I’m friends with a few, but Jason was on site a lot of the time and he dealt with all kinds of contractors.’
The tone of April’s voice was off. Faith picked up on it too. ‘But is there someone you do know?’
‘I could list a dozen,’ said April. ‘There’s a Sophie and a Siobhan, two Staceys, a Suzanne. Shall I go on?’
There was one name Tara noticed was missing. On the day she had visited April’s office, she had spoken to one of her colleagues. The woman had apologised on April’s behalf for nearly knocking a couple of cake boxes out of Tara’s hand, and had appeared desperately concerned – or had it been a severe case of guilt? Her name was Sara, and she had been heavily pregnant. Little wonder April wouldn’t want to consider her a suspect.
As their pace quickened, April looked out across the river. The milky sunlight gave the water a pearlescent quality, while the land on the other side was painted in layers of varying shades of grey. There were church spires and other signs that the industrial landscape they were following had given way to gentler scenes. ‘I think that’s Eastham over there,’ she said.
Tara remained quiet, as did Faith.
‘There are some lovely places to visit. I could take you to Eastham Country Park some time. Jason and I were always borrowing Dexter so we could go for long walks and have brunch in the Mimosa Tea Garden,’ she said, a wavering smile on her face.
‘It sounds lovely,’ Faith said with a heavy dose of cynicism.
‘We were happy,’ she replied, her steps faltering. ‘And I don’t understand why he would risk that for someone else. Yes, I could go through his phone and pick out women’s names beginning with S, or any other letter you care to choose, but pretty much all of them are in my contacts list too. It doesn’t make sense. Not one of them would be worth risking what we had. Not one.’ She pursed her lips together and they trembled.
Tara willed Faith to put an arm around April or do something, anything, to let her know that she wasn’t alone. When it became apparent this wasn’t going to happen, she moved behind Faith and pushed her out of the way so she could slip an arm around April’s waist.
‘It’s a lot to take in and you’ll need time to process how you feel and plan what to do next,’ Tara said.
‘But where do I go from here?’
‘You’re the auditor,’ Faith piped up. ‘Do some more digging.’
Tara gave her a look, eyebrows raised. You’re not helping. In response, she imagined eyes being rolled behind Faith’s shades.
‘You don’t have to rush into anything,’ Tara continued. ‘Take it slowly. And keep talking to us.’
‘I will,’ April replied. They had reached the westerly edge of the pasture and were close to the hide where they could look out over the duck decoy, but April was already glancing back in the direction of the car park. ‘But I’ve kept you long enough. I don’t mind heading back.’
Tara had a million and one other things to do, but she wasn’t going to pack April off home if she still needed them. ‘I don’t mind,’ she said, withdrawing her arm so her friend could decide which path to take.
April did an about turn and her friends followed suit. Dexter was the last to notice, and hurried to catch up. He almost tripped Tara up as he wove through a forest of legs to be at Faith’s heel.
‘I think he likes you,’ April said as she untangled the leash.
‘I have a knack of attracting unwelcome attention,’ she mumbled.
RESPONSES
Alex Butterworth @AlBut4550
Replying to @thewidowsclub
Your group has something to hide, no wonder you don’t want anyone talking. From what I’ve read, there were a lot of arguments.
Jodie @iamJPriestly
Replying to @AlBut4550 @thewidowsclub
The papers are making it up. You have no idea what you’re talking about.
Alex Butterworth @AlBut4550
Replying to @iamJPriestly @thewidowsclub
They’re not making up a murder though, are they love?
7 (#ulink_7dc640d4-f31d-5aaa-ac79-a1c5949ab9e9)
Jason had been dead nine months, which perversely was the time it took to create a life; unless you were a widow; unless you had discovered your marriage was a sham. April’s life could only be described as barren, although she hid it well. She ate when she wasn’t hungry, slept although sleep was never peaceful, and rationed her display of emotions so as not to alarm anyone. The hardest part of her performance was in front of Jason’s parents. She kept in regular contact, and whenever she spoke to his mum, her feelings became confused. They cried together and shared the sense of loss that April otherwise denied herself since discovering the stone on Jason’s grave.
With the November support group meeting still over a week away, work was April’s only refuge from troubled thoughts, but apparently not today. There was a cooing sound coming from the other side of the office that April studiously ignored. She had been over to say hello to Sara and smiled pleasantly at the six-week-old baby being passed from one clucking colleague to the next. It was only when the youngest member of the team, Georgie, was about to hand it to April that she had bolted back to her desk.
April had a lot of work to do. For months she had been assisting rather than leading reviews, but it was time for the team to stop carrying her. She had convinced her manager she was ready to tackle one of the departmental reviews that had slipped in the last year and she had been disappointed not to be given the Highways Section – it wasn’t as if Jason worked there any more – but she was looking forward to losing herself in an audit of the staff attendance system.
Choosing a cross-section of employees to sample for her review was proving difficult, and the arrival of Sara and the baby had made it doubly hard. Her assignment was simply to confirm that time adjustments had been authorised, but an opportunity had presented itself. Faith had told her to keep digging, and that was what she would do.
April blocked out the background noise and stared at her screen. She had gathered a few names on her list so far and most were random selections, but not all. She needed to know what Jason had been doing behind her back and how he had found the time to get up to no good. They went to work together and they went out as a couple. There were only a handful of occasions she could recall in those last months when Jason had socialised without her, but if any of those nights had been a cover story, he had been thorough. There had been his team’s Christmas meal and a few nights out with the lads, but all were documented on Facebook with photos as evidence. April had checked.
The only conclusion she could reach was that his illicit affair had taken place during the working week, which meant the council’s attendance system must hold a vital clue. That was why Jason Thorpe’s name was top of her sample list, but she didn’t have to stop there. It was entirely possible that Jason had sneaked off work to see someone completely unconnected with the council, but since she was looking anyway, why not add a scattering of female employees whose first name began with S? What harm could it do?
The baby had started to cry and the sound played on every one of April’s nerves. Its mother, however, was less perturbed. Sara handed a soother to Georgie and left her holding the baby while she made her way over to April.
‘I hope we’re not disturbing you,’ she said.
‘Don’t worry, I can work through anything.’
Georgie glanced over at them. She was rocking the baby with a growing sense of panic. It – he – was still crying. Sara had called him Fred. She was anything but conventional.
‘That’s not what I meant,’ Sara said. ‘If this is upsetting for you, we can go.’
April’s hands were splayed over the keyboard and one finger sought out the letter S. ‘Can I ask you something, Sara?’
‘Sure,’ she said, drawing closer. Her hand came to rest on a stack of print-outs piled up on the corner of April’s desk. On top of the pile was a white stone.
‘How well did you know Jason?’
When Sara’s fingertips sought out the curves of the love token, April’s pulse throbbed against her ears.
‘I knew him well enough to know not to be left at the bar whenever he ordered a round of shots,’ Sara said, recalling one of their notorious nights out.
‘He did pay you back, didn’t he?’
‘With interest,’ Sara said as she spun the stone 360 degrees. ‘What’s this about, April? Is there something particular you’re after?’
April held her friend’s gaze. ‘I sometimes wonder how well I knew him, that’s all. There are definite gaps.’
‘I’m no expert on grief, but maybe now that you can’t make new memories with Jason, you want to hear ones you haven’t heard before from other people.’
When Sara glanced down at the stone, April’s heart skipped a beat, but there was no flicker of recognition on her friend’s face. Sara was oblivious to the object’s meaning.
‘Yeah, something like that,’ April agreed, resting her back against her chair and allowing her shoulders to relax.
‘Have you talked to any of his mates? What about Callum? I’m sure he could tell a story or two, and Bree worked with Jason.’
‘No,’ April said, rejecting the idea with a shake of the head. It was possible that the pair had tales to tell, but Callum and his wife Bree had been Jason’s friends more than hers and would never break his confidence. They would think they were protecting her. ‘We’ve let our friendship drift and besides, going out with them was always a couples thing.’ Forcing her tone to lighten, she added, ‘I don’t think it would look good if I suggested a threesome!’
‘Never say never,’ Sara said. ‘Not that I’d know. There’s only one person interested in these boobs.’
‘He is beautiful,’ April said, glancing over at the baby in Georgie’s arms. She was tempted to take a closer look, no longer fearing the prospect of finding a reflection of Jason staring back at her. How awful was she to think that Sara would betray her like that?
But Jason had betrayed her, April reminded herself. And he hadn’t done it alone.
‘Do you want a hold?’ Sara asked. She had that proud mother expression when she added, ‘He’s quite cute when you get used to him.’
‘I’d love to but …’
‘You don’t have to explain,’ Sara said. ‘And if you ever need to talk, I’m always at the end of the phone.’
‘I don’t deserve friends like you,’ April said, her bottom lip quivering. ‘You’ve had your own troubles this past year and I haven’t even asked you about Connor. Has he made an appearance yet?’
‘He’s seen Fred and he’ll be a part of his son’s life whether he wants it or not. We’re fine. Don’t worry about us.’
‘I will try harder to be a better friend,’ April promised.
To prove her commitment, April returned to her computer once Sara had left her alone, and deleted her friend’s name from the list. There were people she could still trust, and she prayed she was making the right choices.
8 (#ulink_fa8e44d1-3f86-58b0-ac8c-8be9ad2e98ca)
The buzz of the hedge trimmer set Faith’s teeth on edge as she set about cutting back the leylandii conifers that had grown at least another foot since her gardener, Leon, had tackled it earlier in the year. The hedge divided the land at the rear of the property from that of the neighbours, and she liked it to be high enough to shield her from prying eyes without leaving the rest of the garden in shade. Leon had made the job look easy.
It was Derek who had employed him, and Faith had continued with Leon’s services for as long as she could, but sacrifices had to be made and she had taken the difficult decision to cut back his hours. For appearances’ sake, Leon continued to maintain the front gardens, but Faith was no stranger to hard work and could take care of the rest. If by chance Mr Newton caught a glimpse of her cutting back the conifers, he would see only a figure dressed in black, wearing a baseball cap. He would never presume it was the second Mrs Cavendish.
If anything, pruning the hedge was a novel form of exercise, and Faith had convinced herself it was fun until the rotating blades of the trimmers snagged on a gnarled branch and she lost her balance. She stretched out her arms instinctively to stop herself from falling off the stepladder, and her grip on the trimmers loosened. With her finger still on the trigger, it arced forward and the whirring blades narrowly missed slicing into her thigh. She held back the cry for fear of being overheard, but the near miss left her shaken. She wept angry tears as she hacked at branches that she would not allow to defeat her.
When the job was done and the cuttings cleared away, Faith returned to the house, grabbed a bottle of Chablis from the kitchen, and dragged herself upstairs. She filled a deep bath and added a generous measure of her prized Jo Malone bath oil, because today she deserved it. Stripping off the cheap supermarket clothes she had been wearing, Faith sank beneath the suds and felt her old self return.
With Brahms playing in the background and her wine within easy reach, Faith leafed through a travel brochure. For as long as she cared to remember, planning a holiday was her way of surviving the pre-Christmas frenzy, and a couple of travel reps had been in touch already, having noticed their most loyal customer had yet to book her next trip. Faith had kept them dangling and there was no suggestion that she might forgo a holiday next year. It was something Faith had yet to admit to herself.
A two-week cruise around the Norwegian fjords took her fancy and as she folded the corner of the page, her phone rang. Her thumb hovered over the red decline button as she took a sip of wine. With an exasperated sigh, she accepted the call.
‘Hello, Ella,’ she said affably.
Faith’s stepdaughter had made numerous attempts to call her over the weekend but irritatingly hadn’t left a voicemail. Her persistence, combined with Faith’s curiosity, had finally paid off.
‘I’m glad I caught you at last. I was getting worried.’
‘Ah, sorry about that. I treated myself to a little pamper weekend with friends,’ Faith said as she put down her glass and flexed her hand. Her attack on the garden had cost her a couple of broken nails, and her skin had acquired a roughness she didn’t like. With the money she had saved today, maybe she could afford a spa.
‘I hope you had a good time,’ Ella replied after a slight hesitation, as if she detected the lie.
Faith wouldn’t be surprised if Mr Bloody Newton had a telescope trained on the house, but no matter. A fib told with confidence was far more compelling than whispering truths.
‘Who knew a few days’ relaxation would be so exhausting?’ Faith said with a yawn. She lifted a leg out of the water and watched rivulets of scented oil glide over her skin and caress her tired muscles. ‘It’s probably my body’s reaction to all that pummelling and prodding. Those Swedish massages are brutal.’
‘I can imagine,’ Ella said, possibly convinced. Possibly not. ‘As long as you’re looking after yourself.’
If Faith didn’t do it, who would? Derek was gone.
She closed her eyes to staunch unexpected tears; she was stronger than this. She was a survivor and could face whatever life threw at her, even if it was getting harder. Only this week she had discovered that her department would face yet another reorganisation. It was an occupational hazard and, whilst Faith was good at defending her corner, it would invariably mean more duties being heaped upon her. She had no interest in acquiring new skills, she had adapted enough in her life.
Faith took another sip of wine and painted a smile on her lips loud enough for Ella to hear. ‘So what can I do for you?’
‘I have some news. Jack and I have set a date for our wedding. It’s next July.’
‘Oh, how lovely,’ Faith said. It was a brave step for Ella, considering that her mother was testament to how a marriage could fail, and Faith wasn’t exactly a good advert either. She wished her well.
‘It’s only going to be a small affair, but we would love it if you would come.’
‘I wouldn’t miss it.’
‘I’ll hold you to that,’ said Ella.
Faith couldn’t think of anything worse than an intimate wedding breakfast where Rosemary would deliver the speech in the stead of the father of the bride. Glancing at the travel brochure resting on the edge of the bath, she wondered if the wedding was the justification she needed for one last escape.
She yawned again. ‘Sorry.’
‘Before I let you go, there’s something else I wanted to run past you.’
Reaching for her wine, Faith had an inkling she was going to need it. She should have known there was an ulterior motive for the call. ‘Shoot,’ she said.
‘Last time I saw you, when you were having a clear-out, we talked about you making a fresh start,’ Ella said. She paused for her stepmother to agree, but Faith remained tight-lipped. Only one of them had mentioned a fresh start. ‘I know it’s a difficult decision, but I was talking to Jack, and we wondered if it would be less of a wrench if I was the buyer?’
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Amanda Brooke
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: There’s a murderer in their midst… @thewidowsclubIn response to unprecedented media interest, we confirm that the murder victim was a member of our group. We will not be commenting further. When April joins a support group for young widows, she’s looking for answers after her husband’s sudden death. What she finds instead is a group in turmoil. Set up by well-meaning amateurs, the founders are tussling for control of the group, and everyone’s on edge. Added to that, secret relationships springing up between members and another new member, Nick, seems more than a little bit shady… But the most dangerous secret of all? Not all members are who they seem to be. And they’ll go to any lengths to hide the truth…