'You would think they would have had some idea, what with them working beside April every day, and all.'
'But she had stopped going into work, Mum. No one we have spoken to even saw her for a whole week before she ... before it happened.'
'Yes, Hannah, I know dear but I just think there is more to it than that. April wasn't the sort to ... to hurt herself. She just wouldn't –'
Mum lets out a sob and presses a tissue to her mouth. Paul looks stern, his jaw set and puts his arm around her intermittently providing a pat on the shoulder.
Will has his serious face on now, 'Listen, Janet, no one knows what April was thinking at that time. Anything could have been going through her head, but she kept it to herself, didn't she? There wasn't anything any one of us here could have done if April didn't reach out for help.'
Mum moves the tissue to speak. 'But the police should have done more to investigate! If they had looked longer in the water too they were sure to have found her body … They didn't try hard enough either to find her phone. That could have told us all sorts about what was going on in her life that we didn't know about. And what about earlier? With what – what happened at the service? I think the police need to work harder to come up with something.'
'Janet, you don't think there is a connection, do you? That was just some nutcase messing about. Goodness knows why, of course.'
Mum shakes her head frantically. 'But why would someone do such a thing? I'm going to give them a ring tomorrow morning anyway, just to see what they say.'
Paul interjects, giving Mum's shoulders a firm squeeze. 'Whoever did that awful thing earlier is going to get what's coming to them back in Karma, you'll see. The best thing you can do is to put it behind you now. Don't get yourself worked up now.'
Hearing such deep words from Paul takes me by surprise and I realise that I know very little about him really.
Mum nods, looking at him strangely. 'All right, sweetheart, perhaps I won't make the call after all. You're right. Probably best just to leave it be.'
I wonder if Paul is at all taken in by my mother's all-too-sudden change of heart. Even though I wish she would take heed of her husband's wise words, I know what she will be doing first thing in the morning.
'Anyway, Hannah dear, Paul and I need to get going. We were going to stay on at Ethel's B&B for the night, but after what happened …'
She gives a great sniff and pauses before continuing. Sometimes I don't know where the theatrics end and the sincerity starts. 'Well, let's just say I don't want to stay in this place any longer than I have to. So we're going to drive back to Milton Keynes now.'
'Oh,' I say. 'Well, the three of us will be staying here with Dad for a week or so. I thought it would be a good opportunity for Eva to spend some time with her Grandfather.'
Dad hasn't remarried since my mother left him. Without a new spouse, he needs the support at a time like this. I can't bear the thought of leaving him alone to lament in the house where his little girls grew up, knowing one of them is gone forever.
Mum throws a glance across the room to her ex-husband. 'Well, Paul and I would love to see Eva another time. Maybe she would like to stay with us for some of the holidays?'
'Sure, I'll have to ask her later,' I say, as I graze my teeth against the inside of my cheek.
I don't want to let on that Paul is the reason we have never let our mother babysit. I really hate to be the irrational, paranoid parent, but I get such bad vibes from him that I couldn't leave my child in his house and ever have peace of mind. Things would be different if my parents were still together.
After Mum leaves, the other residents seem to take that as their cue to start filtering back to their homes.
One of the last to leave is a lady that looks to be in her eighties, although she obviously takes much care of her appearance with a great deal of carefully applied makeup and immaculate hair swept into an elegant bun. She looks familiar, and I wonder if she is something to do with the bed and breakfast my mother planned to stay at, but can't be sure.
She smiles at me, fuchsia lips exuding a warmth that equals that emanating from her sparkling blue eyes.
She addresses my husband first. 'William Peterson. I haven't seen you since you were a young man!'
Her eyes sweep over him fondly, lingering for a moment on the full beard he certainly didn't have as a teen.
'Hello, Mrs Hughes. No, this is the first time I've been back here for years. Haven't seen this place since I was eighteen.'
'I always said that you and April would go the distance, didn't I? You poor dear, this must be a dreadful time for you.'
She puts a sympathetic hand on Will's forearm.
Will looks as mortified as I feel and is quicker than I to correct her. 'April and I were never married. We split up a long time ago. When we were still both teenagers. Hannah and I are together now.'
'Oh.'
The old lady withdraws her hand and her mouth contorts into a look that somewhat resembles disgust, ruining the picture of beauty she has clearly spent a while painting on herself. Now with her heavily powdered skin and rouge cheeks, she looks more like a cracked porcelain doll.
'We've been married for many years now,' I point out earnestly. 'We have a twelve-year-old daughter together.'
I look around for Eva to gesture towards but remember she slipped upstairs a while ago.
Today of all days, I am more eager than ever to quell any thoughts anyone has that mine and Will's relationship is anything more than a passing, distasteful fling.
5
Saturday 3rd July 1993
I sit at the end of the bed and stare at April's reflection in the mirror as she stands and applies her eyeliner with precise accuracy, making her bright blue eyes really stand out.
When we go out with Mum in the village or out for a day's shopping in Telford, people often say how much we look alike; that we have the same nose and heart-shaped face. I think they are just being polite though, April is way more pretty than me, and not just because she is allowed to wear makeup either.
Mum says I will grow into myself, and I will look different when I get to sixteen. April has a five-year head start on me and annoyingly she says I have to be patient too, but sixteen is ages away. I can't wait that long.
It would be nice to wear pretty clothes and actually be allowed out the house wearing makeup. I'd love to have a cool boyfriend like April does.
My sister applies the finishing touches to her makeup with a generous application of blue eyeshadow which somehow seems dull in direct contrast to her actual eyes. Her face is so close to her dressing-table mirror as she leans closer to her reflection. For a few moments my view of her is obscured as her breath mists the glass, but then she draws back and admires the complete effect in the mirror.
I feel guilty for being jealous of her perfect, slender figure that has been fitted into her favourite red tartan skirt and black velvet top, or the way she has her hair falling in perfect zigzag, crimped layers or the smooth, pretty cheeks that dimple as she winks at me in the mirror.
'Well, what do you think, Little Rose?'
She asks the question, but doesn't wait for an answer; she simply turns this way and that, admiring herself from every angle she can think of, ignoring all the surly faces of boyband members she has plastered all over her bedroom walls in the form of posters and magazine clippings.