In My Wake: A Breathtaking Psychological Thriller With a Killer Twist Page 3

  Across the room, a woman in her fifties with bleached-blonde hair places two cups of tea in front of the pair of elderly women I saw Will talking to earlier.

  It takes me a few moments before I recognise her as Dad's cleaner, Penny, who helps him prepare the house for new guests.

  It is now that I realise, with a stab of anger, that she is wearing a vivid red blouse underneath her dark blazer jacket. Couldn't she have found something more neutral to wear to a funeral and wake? I'm not entirely sure why she was invited. Not that I remember her in the church at all. Although I remember that she was outside the doors when Dad arrived. Caught up in my own grief, I now can't remember where she was during the service. She definitely wasn't sitting on my row, or the one behind.

  Penny disappears back into the kitchen again just as a strong pair of hands on my shoulders make me jump. I gasp and turn around to see Will, who gives me a weak smile.

  'Don't do that,' I say. 'You scared me.'

  His smile fades and he says seriously in a low voice. 'How are you doing? I have hardly seen you all afternoon.' He drops his voice to a whisper, 'I have been trying to get over to you for ages, but people keep talking to me and I can hardly even remember who they are. They seem to remember me, though.'

  The first smile I have felt in weeks spreads across my face. 'I know exactly what you mean. I can't even think what most of their names –'

  'Hannah, dear.'

  My mother sweeps towards me all of a sudden, embracing me for what feels like the hundredth time in the last few weeks in one of her hugs. She draws back and Paul, her partner moves in and pulls me into an even more awkward embrace.

  'Hello, Hannah,' he says.

  Will catches my attention over Paul's shoulder and looks at me with smiling eyes. It is a recurring source of amusement to Will that Paul never misses an opportunity to greet me and depart without a hug when all he gets is a brief handshake.

  Will still tries to catch my eye with his boyish smirk as Paul pulls away with a brief kiss on my cheek. I don't know how my husband can make light of anything today.

  Everything feels unreal, like the world has been turned upside down and I am fighting hopelessly to keep my feet on the ground. All the people that attended the funeral pay their respects, express what a terrible loss we have suffered and then go home to carry on with their lives. I imagine they will put the kettle on in their cottages and settle in front of some mindless entertainment on the television. All the while, I keep expecting to see April walk in through the door, a picture of beauty, to illuminate the dreary room I find myself standing in. But she doesn't.

  My mother puts her hands to her cheeks and shakes her head in her usual, over-dramatic fashion. Only today, she really does have something to be genuinely outraged by. 'Hannah, how did all this happen? I still can't believe it.'

  'I know. Neither can I.'

  I've said it so many times in the last few weeks, the words come out automatically. And I know the conversation will go exactly how it has done every other time, so I know exactly what Mum will ask next.

  'Are you sure there isn't anything April said that you might have forgotten about? Anything at all?'

  'No, Mum. I already told you, she didn't tell me anything. I hadn't really spoken to her for a while ...'

  'What about her work friends? I spoke to a few earlier, but they seem even more clueless than you – would you believe!?'

  'Imagine that ...' Will drawls sarcastically by my side. I don't glance at him, but I can tell he is trying to catch my eye again.

  '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.

  As April bends lower to apply a little extra pink lipstick, a denim-clad Gary Barlow looks back at me moodily, unmoving from the far wall.

  'Oh no!' April picks up a section of straight hair and stares at it crestfallen. 'Quick, Hannah. Hand me the crimpers!'

  I understand her hurry, so I go above and beyond and plug them in for her, resting them on the dressing table next to her collection of cute perfume bottles.

  'Cheers, you're a lifesaver,' April says, still not taking her eyes from her reflection as she starts work on the section of wayward straight hair.

  The sound of the doorbell causes just as much of a stir of butterflies in my stomach as I'm sure must be in hers and I stand up, waiting for her instruction.

  'Well, go and answer it, Hannah! Tell him I'll just be a few minutes.'

  Not needing to be told twice, I rush out of April's bedroom and across the landing, before bombing down the stairs two at a time.

  A quick glance at my own reflection only makes my heart sink as I see that the small smearing of pink lipstick cadged from April hasn't done much to alter my dumpy appearance. Now I wish I hadn't bothered at all; I look like a little kid that has indulged in a game of makeover and not even played it well.

  I answer the door, cheeks flushing when I see April's boyfriend, Will. He turns to face me, hands casually in pockets as though he made no effort at all to be here, as unaffected as if the wind simply blew him onto our front doorstep.

  He looks even more gorgeous than ever. His thick, dark hair is slicked back with wet-look gel, putting more emphasis upon the delicate tan of his face. His white shirt looks overly bright in contrast to the black jeans and leather jacket which makes him look effortlessly cool.

  April is so lucky to be going out with him. He is eighteen already and will leave college at the end of the month. April hasn't even left school yet.

  Will is missing out Uni altogether – April told me he is going to get a job up in Manchester. He has asked her to go and live with him when he gets his own flat. I'm secretly hoping that neither of those things will happen, but would never admit it to April.

  'Hi, Hannah.'

  'Oh, hi,' I say, annoyed at how breathless I sound and how hot my cheeks become. I hardly even recognise my voice at all when I speak to Will.

  He looks curiously down the hallway behind me. 'Is April ready?'

  'She's just –'

  A sudden burst of footsteps on the top of the stairs answers his question as April sweeps down towards us and straight out the door. Hair immaculate, she leaves a strong trail of our mother's most expensive perfume in her wake.

  'Ready to go, Will?'

  The pair exchange a brief kiss on the lips and I try and fail, not to look.

  'Yeah, Babe. I just wanted to give Hannah this.'

  Will suddenly has a small, clumsily-wrapped package in his hands.

  'For me?' I ask, surprised, reaching out a moist palm tentatively.

  'You got her a present?' April scrunches up her face. 'You didn't have to do that, you know, Will.'

  Feeling awkward, like I have never opened a gift before, my clumsy fingers tear at the colourful paper that looks like it was leftover from a birthday. Inside, my fingertips connect with smooth hard plastic. As the remaining paper falls away, I see a small troll doll with a sweep of gravity-defying fuzzy green hair.

  'April told me you collect them.'

  'Yeah, I do. It's great – I haven't got this colour yet. Thanks, Will.'

  April puts on a mocking, babyish voice. 'Awww, there you go, Hannah. You can put them in your room with the rest of your little toys.'

  More warmth blooms into my cheeks.

  April steps out onto the doorstep and calls a hurried goodbye to our mother in the kitchen. I know she won't dare let Mum see that she is dressed in the very skirt she was banned from wearing outside the house.

  April gives me a wink and disappears off, hand-in-hand with Will who gives me a smile too.

  I watch the pair go off, Will now with his hand around April's small waist, until they disappear behind the hedge that lines our lane.

  I shut the front door and look back down at Will's gift. Aside from being taken completely by surprise, I had momentarily felt delighted that he had thought to get me a present. Although, as I put the doll on the shelf in my bedroom with my other toys, I cringe with embarrassment at the thought of him thinking of me as a little girl.

  April told him I collected them. What else has she told him? I look around my bedroom and spot the plush dog standing guard on my pillow.

  My stomach clenches with embarrassment. Has my sister told her boyfriend that I sleep with a stuffed toy at the age of eleven?

  Probably.

  I move him onto the bedside cabinet and stand back to check if it is more subtle. Now it is all I see in the room. I grab him by an ear and stuff him into the back of my cupboard behind some books that I haven't read for years.

  I could really do with having a clear-out. I can't let Will think I am just a little kid; his girlfriend's little sister
who can be easily pleased with simple children's toys.

  I need to be sophisticated and pretty. Just like April.

  6

  Warmth envelops me. I believe for a few sweet moments that if I open my eyes, I will see April sleeping next to me; see her fine features relaxed and blissful in slumber. Her soft hair fanned out on the pillow. Even before I am properly awake, the vague details of the room press in on me.

  The bed is still facing the same way as it always has done, the dressing table by the wall at the end. Even with my eyes closed, I can tell the curtains are still drawn in an attempt to block out the bright summer daylight, but the room is oddly silent. No sound of April's slow, steady breathing to assure me back into dreaming myself.

  Reality drags my eyes open and for a moment I don't properly recognise the room. The image in my mind doesn't slide perfectly into place with what I see around me. The colours are different and there is now a window seat with plump cushions for guests to observe what they probably think is the perfect square of green countryside beyond.

  I get out of bed and pull back the curtains. At once the room seems to be injected with life, as though a sleepy eyelid has been opened and a new day should be enjoyed. But I can't feel it. Not today. I wonder when it won't be too soon to appreciate small pleasures without feeling the guilt that April will never enjoy anything ever again.

  Far away in the distance, the glorious light shines down on the Wrekin and it sits green and bold, its peak reaching into the brilliant blue sky.

  Closer by in a golden field, a tiny square of a tractor chugs along silently. Only the tourists staying at this guest house can appreciate this view. Locals know all too well what happened in those woods in the middle distance. Some more than others. April knew, just like she knew everything going on behind the scenes in the seemingly sleepy village. And now she's gone.