‘I was,’ she said, staring at them both suspiciously. ‘What’s going on?’

‘We were just chatting. Your brother here thinks it might be a good idea if you came back with me to Bournemouth.’

Kelly shot him a look. ‘I ain’t going nowhere.’

‘You see?’ Petra said smugly to her son. ‘I told you so.’

‘Just for a few days, a week,’ Wayne said. ‘Why not?’

‘You know why not,’ Kelly snapped back. ‘I ain’t leaving here until I find out who killed my Eddie.’ She stormed through to the kitchen, her face full of anger. Shortly afterwards there was the sound of the kettle starting to boil followed by the noisy clatter of mugs and spoons.

Petra started to get to her feet, but Wayne waved her back down. ‘I’ll have a word with her,’ he said. ‘You want a brew?’

‘I wouldn’t say no.’

As soon as he closed the kitchen door behind him, Wayne knew he was for it. Kelly turned, her eyes blazing, and hissed, ‘What’s your fuckin’ game? What are you playing at?’

‘I’m just trying to get shot of her,’ he said. ‘It’s the only thing I could think of. She’s been asking about the cellar. I reckon she knows something’s going on.’

‘So? She ain’t going to go down there, is she?’

‘You don’t know that for sure. It’ll make everything a damn sight easier if she just goes back to Bournemouth.’

‘Well, I ain’t going with her so you can forget it.’

‘You could go for a few days and then come back. The tart’s still going to be here. What difference does it make?’

Kelly jabbed at his chest with her index finger. ‘Ain’t you listening to a word I say? No! No way! You got it? I’m staying right here until we sort that filthy murdering cow.’

‘Okay,’ Wayne said, raising his hands palm out. ‘I get it. Keep your voice down, huh? You want Mum to hear?’

Kelly stared at her brother, her teeth bared. ‘That Sadie is going to pay for what she did. The bitch is going to fuckin’ pay!’

33

Sadie woke with a jolt from a bad dream she’d been having. Rushing from room to room in a strange house full of men and women she had never met before, she’d been searching desperately for Joel. Where was he? Why couldn’t she find him? It was important, essential, that she tracked him down. There was a party going on, music playing, people dancing and laughing. She ran upstairs and downstairs, panic rising inside her. Have you seen Joel? He had gone, someone said, he had already left. She was too late.

Sadie lay peering into the darkness, feeling her heart racing in her chest. A dreadful sense of loss swept over her, as if Joel was the one who had died rather than Eddie. She thought of the funeral that was still to be endured and wished the day was over and that she was back in Haverlea. If only she could turn her head and see Joel sleeping. If only she could hear his steady breathing she would know that everything was going to be all right.

Despite the blackness that surrounded her, she was certain it was morning. Outside there was already a steady flow of traffic in the street. Rain fell against the window, making a hard smattering sound and causing the glass to rattle. She recalled the night before, her drink with Velma in the Fox, and the unwelcome interruption from Nathan Stone. There were things that she had meant to ask him, about the Gissings, about Eddie’s murder, but they gone clean out of her head when she was face to face with him. Had he sensed that she wasn’t entirely innocent? There had been a look in his grey eyes, something like suspicion, but perhaps that was just her guilty conscience.

Sadie reached out and flicked on the lamp. She looked at her watch – it was almost eight o’clock – and quickly pushed back the blankets. Instantly, she was aware of the cold. She got dressed hurriedly, pulling on the black trousers and the black polo neck sweater she had chosen to wear for the funeral.

After padding along the corridor to the bathroom, Sadie returned to her room and stared at her reflection in the mirror as she combed her hair. Her face was pale, its almost ghostly pallor exaggerated by the darkness of her clothes. She put on some lipstick and then wiped it off again; the colour seemed too bright against her skin.

How was she going to get through the morning? There was a stone in her stomach the size of a boulder. She shouldn’t have come. It was wrong, a mistake. It didn’t matter what people thought of her; she should have stayed in Haverlea and sent a wreath. She was tempted for a moment to follow Stone’s advice and get on the first train out of Kellston. But she wouldn’t, she couldn’t. She owed it to Eddie to at least attend his funeral.

Down in the breakfast room, she had the impression of time standing still, of everything being exactly as it had been on the last occasion she’d been here. Even the rain seemed to be falling with the very same speed and intensity. The room was empty apart from the middle-aged man sitting in the same place, reading what could have been the same copy of The Times. He glanced up and gave her a nod.

‘Good morning.’

‘Morning,’ she replied.

Sadie sat down at the same table she had chosen last time. She was still not fully awake and things had a vaguely dreamlike quality to them. Her gaze floated over the box of cornflakes, the sugar bowl and the jug of milk. The white tablecloth was stained in places, pale beige patches where something – probably tea or coffee – had been spilt in the past and not come out in the wash.

Mrs Cuthbert shuffled in and placed a small pot of tea and a metal rack containing four quarters of lightly browned toast in front of her.

‘Thank you,’ Sadie murmured.

The old woman grunted and shuffled back to the kitchen without a word. Sadie wasn’t sure if this response was a sign of disapproval or if she was equally taciturn with everyone at this time of the morning.

‘Dreary day for it,’ the middle-aged man said.

Sadie looked over at him. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’ She wasn’t sure if he was referring to the funeral – did he even know about it? – or just to life in general. Not wanting to get into a conversation about Eddie she busied herself with the toast and butter and marmalade.

‘You brought the rain with you,’ he said.

Sadie gave him a nod, a faint smile, before returning to her breakfast and hoping he would get the hint. Please leave me alone, she wanted to say. Leave me in peace. I don’t want to talk to anyone. She needed this time to get her thoughts in order, to prepare for what was to come.

A silence followed, broken only by the sound of the man clearing his throat and then the gentle rustle of his newspaper. Sadie felt her shoulders tense as she waited for him to speak again. She nibbled on the toast, wondering what she would say to Eddie’s parents. I’m so sorry for your loss. Wasn’t that what people usually said? And she was sorry, but she doubted if they would actually believe her. There was too much history, too much bad feeling.

At a quarter to nine Sadie went back upstairs and put on her coat. She would have to leave the holdall here and collect it later; she could hardly turn up for a funeral toting her luggage. Yes, she would come back when it was over, pay Mrs Cuthbert what she owed and jump on a train. It was still early but she wanted to check out exactly where the church was. Velma had given her directions and they seemed simple enough, but the last thing she wanted was to show up late.

As it turned out St Luke’s wasn’t hard to find. It was a small, pretty stone building with a modest spire and a few old tombstones scattered around its grounds. She stood in the street and stared at the arched door. At the moment there was no sign of activity; it would be a while before the undertakers and the mourners arrived. She thought of Eddie lying in his coffin and gave a shudder. Gone. Gone for ever.