Sadie moved away and crossed the road to Kellston Cemetery where she intended to wait until it was time for the service to begin. She walked down the main thoroughfare, along the wide tarmac path, avoiding the wet grass. The rain was still falling heavily, splattering against the canopy of her umbrella.

Occasionally, she stopped to peer at one of the gravestones and to read the inscription. What had their lives been like? Happy or sad? A bit of both, she supposed. But how many of them had gone to their graves with unspoken secrets on their lips? She wondered how long she could keep quiet about what she knew: a month, a year, a lifetime? Already the guilt was eating away at her.

There were narrower side paths leading off into the far reaches of the cemetery, winding round to what looked like older, wilder parts. In the distance she could see tall obelisks and grey stone angels with their hands clasped in prayer. For a while she took shelter under a willow tree and watched the people – mainly office workers, judging from their appearance – hurry past her on their way to the station.

Every few minutes she glanced down at her watch, unsure as to whether she wanted the time to speed up or slow down. Anxiety fluttered in her chest. She took deep breaths of the damp winter air, trying to steady her nerves. The cold seeped into her bones as she waited.

Eventually, at a quarter to ten, Sadie made her way back to the main gate and began to walk towards St Luke’s. She could still change her mind. It wasn’t too late. She didn’t have to go through with it. But already she could see the hearse and a few black-clothed mourners gathered in front of the church. If she was going to retreat she would have to do it quickly.

Sadie was tempted; there was no denying the fact. Now that the moment was almost upon her, she wasn’t sure if she could go through with it. Why hadn’t she let Joel come with her? Safety in numbers was what they said, and here she was, utterly alone.

‘It’s a funeral,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Not a battleground.’

Still she held back, searching for friendly faces in the small group by the door, but seeing none. And the longer she stood there the harder it became for her to move. She felt, suddenly, like one of those stone angels in the cemetery, doomed to stand for ever in the same position.

It was only the appearance of Stan Wise that finally jolted her into action. He glanced over in her direction but gave no acknowledgement that he had seen her. Yet she was sure he had, sure that his eyes had rested on her for a moment. And then she knew she had no choice. She took one last deep breath before crossing the road.

34

Sadie slipped into a pew at the very rear of the church, sat down and stared along the central aisle towards the mahogany coffin covered with lilies. Her gaze lingered there for a while – her head full of memories of Eddie – before moving up to the stained-glass window. Despite the greyness of the day, the colours shone through with a shimmering beauty.

It still did not seem possible that Eddie was dead, that his body was lying in a box. It was unreal, hard to grasp. She kept thinking that someone would say that it was all a big mistake. She shivered as the priest’s words flowed over her: ‘We meet in the name of Jesus Christ, who died and was raised to the glory of God the father. Grace and mercy be with you.’

Sadie’s eyes raked the congregation, finally seeing a few faces she recognised, old drinking buddies from the past, people who seemed like strangers to her now. Stan and Marcie Wise were at the front with their daughter, Denise, and several other members of the family. Behind them was Eddie’s girlfriend, her long fair hair tied back in a ponytail and held with a black velvet ribbon. An older woman, her mother perhaps, was to Kelly’s right, and to her left were a short thickset man and another blonde in her thirties.

As the service progressed, hymns were sung and prayers were said. Sadie found herself assailed by a number of emotions, by sadness, by pity and guilt, but most of all by shame. She should have been honest about Mona Farrell, about what she knew. She should have thought less about her own position and more about the truth. And yet the truth lacked a certain appeal when the end result could be a prison sentence.

While the priest was talking, Sadie became aware of being watched. She shifted her gaze and saw that the thickset man had turned and was glaring at her. Wayne Gissing. It had to be. He was as ugly as Velma had said, and his looks weren’t improved by a black eye and a split lip. Was that down to the trouble with Terry Street? Stone’s warning echoed in her mind and she felt her body tense.

As Gissing turned back to face the front, Sadie glanced to her right, to the two guys who were seated at the other end of the pew. One of them, the one nearest to her, caught her eye and gave a thin smile. Mates of Eddie’s? She didn’t think so. They were too smart, too clean-cut. The next thought that sprang into her head was police.

Now she had something else to worry about. If they were cops, what were they doing here? Checking out the mourners, perhaps, seeing who showed up at the funeral. And she must still be on their list of suspects when it came to Eddie’s murder. Were they observing how she behaved, making a note of her body language? Instantly she became self-conscious, overly aware of what her hands were doing, of how she was standing, even of the expression on her face.

Sadie’s intention had been to have a few words with Stan and Marcie and then leave before the burial – she presumed Eddie was going to be interred in Kellston Cemetery – but now she began to have second thoughts. Would it look like she was running away? That she was scared of something? Well, she was. She was afraid of the Gissings and what they might do.

As she stared at the back of Wayne Gissing’s head, her heart began to thump. She could feel a prickle of sweat on the nape of her neck. But then if the cops were present what could he do? The officers might make her feel uncomfortable, as if she was under scrutiny, but they also provided protection. So long as they were around, she was safe.

The service came to an end and the coffin was carried out of the church. Sadie shuffled out of the pew and joined the other mourners who were congregating in front of the building. She immediately realised there wasn’t a hope of talking to Eddie’s parents at this point; they were already climbing into a sleek grey Bentley to follow the hearse to the cemetery.

Most people, she could see, were simply going to walk and she stood for a while trying to decide whether to follow them or not. The two men – she still didn’t know for sure whether they were cops – had already set off. Stay or go? She shifted from one foot to the other while she tried to make up her mind. A few of Eddie’s old friends glanced over in her direction, gave a nod but didn’t come over to talk to her.

As the space in front of the church began to clear, she wondered if anyone would actually notice her absence. Well, Wayne Gissing probably would, but by the time he realised it would be too late. In less than fifteen minutes she could get back to Oaklands, pick up her holdall and be in the station waiting for a train to take her home.

Sadie decided that, on balance, it might be smarter to make herself scarce. There was no point in looking for trouble. She was on the brink of leaving when she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see the blonde woman who’d been sitting with the Gissings.

‘Hello, love,’ she said. ‘I’m Sharon, Kelly’s stepmum. Walking over to the cemetery, are you?’