Chapter Eighteen
Caro was waiting for
April when she came out of the school gates.
‘Lizzie Welch told me
Hawk was telling you off, so I thought I’d stick
around.’
‘Ah,’ said April,
distracted. She was still reeling from the conversation with Mr
Sheldon. She had pressed him further about the ‘family friend’
comment, but he had simply said, ‘Perhaps you should ask your
mother.’
‘Gabriel was waiting
for a while too, looked a bit pissed off about something, but he
seems that way most of the time. I didn’t like to ask if he was
waiting for you, anyway.’
April nodded and they
began to walk slowly up Swain’s Lane, heading towards the coffee
shop on the High Street.
‘So what’s up? Did he
tell you off for cutting classes? Or was it about that git Marcus?
What’s going on with him anyway?’
‘Mr Sheldon gave me
the impression that he had dealt with Marcus pretty
harshly.’
Caro shivered. ‘Ugh,
I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that - not that a
bastard like Marcus doesn’t deserve all he gets.’
‘He had the cheek to
say that I should have taken “my problem” to a teacher instead of
“provoking” Marcus. He might as well have come out and told me I
was asking for it.’
‘But that’s
ridiculous!’ said Caro. ‘That just shows how out of touch teachers
are. They have no idea how things work at school. God, I hate
everyone in that damned place.’
‘I know what you
mean,’ said April, with feeling. ‘Anyway, it wasn’t about Marcus,
it was about missing lessons this morning.’ April sighed. She had
been reluctant to go over the whole sorry mess of her row with her
dad and its aftermath at lunch, especially when they’d had the
Layla incident to discuss, but now she found she wanted to talk
about it. So she told Caro about finding the job-offer letter and
the vampire note and how she had confronted her dad. She even told
her about the fight between them before she stormed off into the
rain.
‘I was so mad,’ said
April. ‘He just didn’t seem to see that there was anything wrong
with bringing your family to an area you believe might be full of
bloodsucking killers.’
Caro pulled a face.
The vampire issue was still a sore point between them; they hadn’t
discussed it since their fight after the party. April had
apologised for overreacting, of course, but she had subsequently
avoided talking with Caro about the supposed vampire thing, partly
because so much had happened in the past few days and partly
because, crazy as it was, April was embarrassed by her father’s
investigation into the undead. It was one thing for a conspiracy
nut like Caro to believe in monsters - she was an excitable
sixteen-year-old, after all—but it was quite another thing to have
your forty-something father fall for such an idea. April was used
to her dad’s eccentricities, but this was quite a different story:
she didn’t want to admit that, if he really did think Highgate was
dangerous - and to be honest, recent events seemed to be proving
him right - he was knowingly putting his family at risk for his
story.
‘I can see your
point,’ said Caro thoughtfully. ‘I mean, you expect your parents to
make sound, rational decisions, don’t you? But then my dad spent
all his life savings on one of those enormous Winnebago motorhomes
last year. We can’t afford to get the boiler fixed, but he’s got a
mobile chemical toilet parked outside in the street.’
April giggled despite
herself.
‘The point is, adults
can be idiots too,’ said Caro. ‘Your dad might well have come here
to research his book, but I doubt he really thought it was
dangerous. Maybe he bit off more than he could chew, no pun
intended.’
‘I guess.’ April
smiled. She was glad she had shared her burden with Caro; maybe she
was right, maybe he had expected the vampire story to be another
silly hoax like crop circles or something and then, with the
murders, sensed he might be on to something big. April shook her
head. It was hard to see your parents as real people; she wasn’t
sure she liked the idea much.
‘Actually, that
reminds me of something odd Mr Sheldon just said.’
‘Odd?’ asked Caro.
‘What did he say?’
‘He said he was a
friend of the family.’
‘Ugh. That sounds
more creepy than odd. I wouldn’t want Mr Sheldon babysitting
me.’
‘Well, it’s even more
odd because I’d never heard of or seen him before last week. I’d
remember those eyes. And then when I asked him about it, he went
all mysterious, like it was some big secret.’
‘You’re right, that
is odd. Better ask your dad.’
April pulled a face.
‘Might not be the best time to have a cosy chat with my dad right
now. I did just tell him that I hated him.’
‘Oh yes, I was
forgetting.’
They walked a little
further up the lane. April always made sure they stuck to the
left-hand side, away from the cemetery railings, but the white
gravestones still looked ominous in the failing light, poking out
of the undergrowth like elbows and fingers.
‘So no texts or calls
from Gabriel?’ said Caro.
April shook her head.
‘Actually, I’d forgotten all about it. I mean, you’ve got to move
on, haven’t you?’
Caro looked at her
with a sly smile. ‘Really?’
April tried to smile,
but couldn’t. ‘All right, so I’ve only checked my phone every five
minutes or so.’
The truth was, she
had thought of almost nothing else. A few short hours ago, she had
been so sure of Gabriel Swift and his feelings for her. He had come
to her, with doughnuts, and said he wanted them to be together,
however difficult it got. The way he had spoken to her - his
reluctance, his awkwardness - she had believed those words were
coming from his heart. It was the most romantic date of her life,
not that that was saying much. He had been gallant and sexy and
kind. And now, ever since Layla had stuck her claws in, it hurt
even to think of him. For that one bright, shining moment Gabriel
had been the best thing in the world and now … now the memory was
like a blunt knife in her heart.
She took a ragged
breath. ‘I just feel so stupid,’ she said. ‘I thought all that
stuff with the coffee and the pebbles at the window was him being
spontaneous and lovely, but the truth is he’d probably just had a
fight with Layla or something and was looking for a back-up. I
guess that’s all the stuff he couldn’t explain - why he said it
would be difficult.’
‘Hey, don’t beat
yourself up, honey,’ said Caro, rubbing her arm reassuringly. ‘You
can’t help it if he’s a two-timing rat, can you? It was pretty
romantic. I’d have been swept off my feet too and you know how
cynical I am.’
April shook her head.
‘Anyway, the reality is I’m not going to hear from him if he’s with
Layla, am I? Unless she suddenly decides to become a
nun.’
‘Not likely,’ said
Caro.
‘And even then, do I
really want to be second best?’
Caro smirked. ‘He
is pretty fit.’
April managed a wan
smile. ‘Maybe I’d consider it. We’ll have to see.’
They were passing the
main gates to the cemetery now and April couldn’t help peering in,
half-expecting to see some weird apparition with dark eyes lurking
in the shadows or beckoning her in with a bony finger.
‘You okay?’ asked
Caro.
‘Yeah, it’s just that
… no, I’m not. I know it sounds silly, but after that evening with
the fox, and then Isabelle’s murder, I don’t like walking past
it.’
‘Don’t be daft, of
course it’s not silly. Something like that would shake anyone up.’
She grabbed April’s hand and ran across the road and into the park,
pulling April along behind her.
‘What are you doing?’
April laughed as she was virtually dragged up the hill towards the
pond.
‘I’m saving you!’
shouted Caro. ‘Now come on, we have to get to Americano before they
run out of that squirty cream.’
They ran through the
park, cackling with laughter, past the aviary and the tennis courts
before dashing out onto the High Street, completely
breathless.
‘Stop! Stop! You’ll
kill me!’ shouted April, bending over with her hands on her knees,
panting. Caro trotted back to her and hooked her arm through
April’s.
‘Lightweight.’ She
grinned. ‘You’ll never make the Ravenwood track team.’
‘Does Ravenwood even
have a track team?’
‘No, I don’t think it
does.’ Caro laughed as they headed up the hill, peering into the
shops and catching their breath.
As they came to the
zebra crossing between the High Street and Bisham Gardens, they
heard the unmistakable sound of a police car racing up the hill.
They turned to watch as it tore past, its whirling blue light
bouncing off the shop windows. Hard on its heels came an ambulance,
then another police car. The heavy evening traffic had to swerve
and even mount the kerb to clear a way for them and April covered
her ears as they shot past, sirens blaring.
‘Blimey!’ Caro
shouted over the noise. ‘They’re in a hurry.’
But the sound of the
sirens didn’t diminish. Even though the cars were out of sight, the
clamour continued.
‘Hey - whatever it
is, it’s close. Let’s go and see what’s happened!’ said Caro,
pulling at April’s elbow.
‘No, Caro, people are
probably hurt and they don’t need spectators,’ said April, hanging
back.
‘Oh come on!’ shouted
Caro over the sirens. ‘How often do you get to see a real
emergency? Just for a minute? Come on!’
Caro sped off across
the road and April followed reluctantly behind her. She caught up
with Caro as she was turning into South Grove and cutting across
towards the square.
‘Wow, it’s right on
your doorstep,’ said Caro excitedly, running on.
Yeah, like that’s a good thing, thought April,
like I need any more drama in my life.
She dodged around a white van, which swerved and the driver honked
his horn angrily.
‘Sorry!’ she said,
sprinting over the road. When she got to the other side, it was as
if the whole of Pond Square had been lit up for Christmas, with red
and blue lights spinning off the buildings and trees. The emergency
vehicles were parked higgledy-piggledy in the road and there were
people running back and forth between them, shouting above the
noise. It was only then that she noticed Caro had stopped and
turned back towards her. Her friend’s face looked pale and serious
in the weird pulsing light. April instantly sensed that something
was wrong, pushing past her friend when Caro tried to grab
her.
‘April, stop …’ she
said, worry in her voice. ‘I think it’s your house.’
‘What? No, it can’t
be,’ said April, smiling uncertainly, her feet already moving
across the square. But between the cars she could see that the
yellow front door was open. ‘Oh God,’ she breathed, wrenching
herself out of Caro’s grip.
‘April!’ her friend
shouted desperately. ‘Wait …’
But April wasn’t
stopping for anyone. Traffic forgotten, she dropped her bag and ran
as fast as her legs would go, crossing the distance in seconds. A
uniformed policeman saw her approach and tried to block her, but
April was moving too fast. She barged him out of the way and shot
through the front door, almost tumbling over a man in a bright
green jacket crouching in the doorway to her dad’s study. She went
down on one knee, pain shooting up her thigh.
‘What’s going on?
What are you doing?’ she rasped, the words coming out in a harsh
whisper. The corridor seemed to tilt to one side as her wide-open
eyes tried to take in the scene. To her right, she saw the living
room; it looked as if a bomb had exploded inside. Papers and books
were strewn across the floor, even the shelves and pictures had
been smashed. The hallway table was lying at an angle across the
corridor with the phone next to it, the handset looking as if it
had been used by someone with ink on their fingers. I bet I’ll get the blame for that, she thought
randomly, her mind scrabbling to get a grip and knowing, deep
inside, that it wasn’t ink. Slowly, with a detached fascination,
she let her eyes follow the dark smears across the floor and up the
wall. There was a wide daub - a handprint, her mind corrected - on the doorframe,
tailing off into a long smear, as if someone - your dad, your dad - had reached out for support
and then slid to the floor.
‘NOOOO!’ she
screamed, and everything flashed back into full speed. Caro and the
policeman were grabbing her, trying to pull her back as she pushed
past the paramedic hunched over the thing on the
floor.
It wasn’t a thing. It
was her father - her father. He was
lying on his back, half-in, half-out of the study, staring up at
the ceiling, a black pool spreading around his shoulders. The
paramedic was working on a deep wet wound in his neck. It looked as
if his neck had been torn open.
‘No, no, no, Dad,
no,’ she whispered as she fell to her knees, trying to hold him,
clutching his wet hand. It’s blood, she
thought in her vague, detached way, I’m
covered in my father’s blood. His eyelids fluttered and a
horrible rasp came from his throat. He’s
alive! He’s alive! thought April, looking up at the
paramedics desperately, but they were oblivious to her, their
concentration fixed on the job in front of them. The hands behind
her were still trying to pull her back, but again she shook them
off.
‘Honey …’ gasped her
father, squeezing her hand, his head turning, a slight smile on his
lips. ‘Don’t…’ He coughed with an ugly rattle and bright red
bubbles appeared on his lips. ‘Don’t …worry.’
The paramedic pushed
April aside and shone a light into her father’s eyes. ‘Can you hear
me?’ He touched William’s face. ‘Come on, mate, stay with
us.’
April’s father gave
the slightest of nods and the man went back to work, pressing a
dressing to his throat which immediately became dark with
blood.
‘April,’ whispered
her father, his voice a barely audible croak, his gurgling breath
getting weaker. ‘April … you need to know. Your mum …’
Suddenly his body
tensed and he moaned in pain.
‘Dad, no,’ sobbed
April. ‘Please, don’t talk …’
He smiled with red
lips and gave her hand another squeeze. ‘I love you, April. I’ll
always be here for you.’
‘I love you too,
Daddy, don’t leave me, please!’
She looked up just in
time to catch a glance exchanged between the medic and the
policeman: a slight shake of the head.
‘No, no, no!’ she
screamed as the policeman got a hold of her and yanked her
backwards.
‘Let them do their
job, love,’ he said in her ear; urgent, but not unkind. ‘Let them
help him.’
‘No, no, I can’t
leave him,’ she cried, fighting the policeman, her arms reaching
out for her dad as she was pulled away, screaming for him, hands
clawing against the doorframe, her own red fingerprints mixing with
her father’s, her tears falling uselessly on the
steps.
She knew he was dead
when they brought her the blanket. A female police officer draped
it around her shoulders as she sat on a bench in the square, Caro
close beside, holding her tight. She could see the open doorway,
she could see the paramedics wheeling the stretcher up the steps.
They were doing all the right things, going through the correct
procedure, but there was no urgency to their movements. There was
no rush to get her dad into the ambulance and down the hill to the
hospital. And she could feel it deep inside her, though she didn’t
know how or why - she could feel that he had gone.
‘Your mum is on the
way,’ said the policewoman softly. ‘She’ll be here
soon.’
April stared straight
ahead, her face expressionless.
Caro looked up at the
woman and nodded. ‘Thanks,’ she said.
The police had taped
off the whole square, but the curious rubberneckers seemed to be
keeping a respectful distance anyway. Perhaps they sensed that
something terrible had happened. The ambulance slowly rolled out of
the square and April followed behind in a police car. She sat in
silence, Caro on one side, the policewoman the other. She supposed
it should feel weird or tragic or surreal, but she couldn’t conjure
up any of those feelings. She was numb and empty, as if she was one
step away from the world, could see it but not touch
it.
‘Why would someone do
that?’ asked April, as much to herself as to the
policewoman.
‘There are some
pretty nasty people out there, love,’ said the officer, ‘but you
can be sure we’ll do everything we can to catch him.’
April wanted to say
something, to tell her to get out there and find the killer
straight away, but she couldn’t seem to open her mouth, it was as
if she was encased in ice. Then they were standing at the hospital
entrance, blinking in the harsh fluorescent light, watching as the
paramedics wheeled the stretcher quickly away down a corridor,
getting smaller and smaller, until it bumped through some double
doors and disappeared.
She looked around
her, the bustle and purpose of the doctors and nurses somehow
rendered ridiculous by the broken patients around them, shuffling
along in their backless gowns, pushing walking frames or trailing
drips, not a trace of joy or hope in their faces.
‘What is this place?’
whispered April. Is this hell? The
policewoman came and ushered them into a private waiting room and
sat them down on wipe-clean plastic chairs.
‘I should be crying,’
she said flatly.
‘You are, honey,’
said Caro. April touched her face and found it was true. Tears were
quietly rolling down her cheeks, wetting her collar.
‘He tried to tell me
something, before he … before …’
Caro nodded and
pulled her tight. ‘We know. We know, honey.’
‘What did he say?’
asked the policewoman.
April glanced at her;
she was young, perhaps only a few years older than her and Caro,
quite pretty in a scrubbed, pink-cheeked way, but there was a look
in her eyes when she asked her question that put April, even in her
numb state, on her guard. She was ambitious, eager to uncover some
vital piece of evidence. April couldn’t blame her for that, but
even through her fug she knew she needed to think, needed to work
things out before she said anything else to anyone. She wanted to
get it all straight in her own mind first. April felt a sob welling
up in her throat.
‘That he loved me,’
she said, her voice cracking.
‘Of course he did,’
said Caro, hugging her tighter. ‘Of course he did.’
But April knew there
had been something else in her father’s last words. Something vital
he was trying to communicate in the serious look on his face when
he had spoken to her: ‘There’s something I need to tell you … your
mum …’ And had there been another half-word he was struggling to
get out?
She shook her head.
Her father’s last words. April felt a horrible sickness spreading
from the pit of her stomach as she remembered her last words to him
that morning: ‘I’ll never forgive you!’, ‘I hate you!’, her
spiteful, selfish words. Words designed to hurt him, words she had
meant, really truly meant. She had screamed that she hated him.
Yes, she had said she loved him in those last terrible moments on
the floor of the study, but she knew those horrible, childish,
petulant words were the ones that would haunt her for
ever.
‘Oh, God. Forgive
me,’ she whispered, feeling as if someone was twisting a knife in
her heart. ‘Please, Daddy, forgive me.’
The waiting room door
burst open and her mother flew in, her arms wide, her face creased
with concern.
‘Darling, darling!’
she cried, scooping April up, squeezing her tight, her arms wrapped
hard around her. And then the tears came for real and April finally
gave in to it, crying so hard she choked, unable to breathe, her
body sick with the pain, her face contorted, feeling as if she
could never stand it, as if she must die too. Why him? Why, God, why? Can’t you turn back time? I want
my daddy back. And through it all, she clung to her mother
like a rock in a storm, and Silvia cradled her like a baby,
whispering soothing words, kissing and stroking the tears away,
crying with her. Then, when April finally surfaced from her grief,
completely wrung out, head pounding from crying so hard, Caro and
the policewoman were gone. She wiped her eyes and looked up into
her mother’s face.
‘Who would do that to
him, Mum?’ she asked. ‘Who could hate him so much?’
‘I don’t know,’ said
her mother forcefully, ‘but we’ll find them and we’ll make them
pay. Believe me, they will pay.’
Her eyes were
glittering and fierce and there was a look of determination on her
face April hadn’t seen before.
‘Do you think it was
something he was working on? Like an investigation?’
Silvia shook her
head. ‘I really don’t know, but whoever it was, they will wish they
had never touched that sweet man …’
That was too much for
April; she began choking on her tears again, to think of her kind,
gentle father lying somewhere nearby, lifeless and cold. It was
ridiculous, absurd and so very, very unfair. Silvia held her again,
whispering soft, comforting words that could never
help.
‘Has he really gone?’
asked April, finally looking up.
Her mother nodded
slowly. ‘It’s just us now,’ she whispered, stroking the hair from
April’s damp face. ‘We’ve got to be strong for him. He would have
wanted us to be strong.’
April shook her head.
‘I’m not strong. I just want to lie down and die.’
‘No,’ said Silvia,
lifting April’s chin and searching her eyes. ‘Never say that. You
are so, so precious, my darling.’
She said it with such
intensity, such passion, that April looked at her mother again. Her
face was lined with pain, her eyes still bright with tears, and
suddenly April felt ashamed. She had been so absorbed in her own
agony that her mother’s hadn’t even occurred to her. Silvia had
loved William Dunne long before April was even a twinkle in her
father’s eye. She had lost her husband, her one true love, and she
must be torn up inside. April hugged her mother
fiercely.
‘You’re right, Mum,’
she said. ‘We’ve got to look after each other now.’
But in her heart,
April Dunne had never felt more alone.