April shook his hand. Why does his name sound familiar?
‘Actually,’ said April, ‘could I ask you something? About my dad.’
‘Of course, if I can help. What do you want to know?’
‘Well, am I like him?’
The man began to laugh softly. ‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘You’re the dead spit of him, in fact.’
‘Really?’
The man nodded and pointed towards the chair opposite April. ‘May I?’
‘Please. I’d like to hear about him.’
Peter Noble nodded. He must have been slightly older than her father, or perhaps it was the effect of his slightly-too-long grey hair and silver-framed glasses. He looks like the sort of man who’d wear threadbare tweeds and have a Great Dane, thought April. For some reason, she trusted him. After all, if he was an old friend of her dad’s, he had to be one of the good guys, didn’t he?
‘I haven’t seen your dad for a few years, not since you all moved to Edinburgh,’ said Peter. ‘But we spoke on the phone and exchanged letters and so on.’
The letter- that was it! Peter Noble was the man mentioned in the job offer April had found on her father’s desk the morning they’d had their fight. The day he had died.
‘Hang on, aren’t you a newspaper editor or something?’ said April.
‘Yes, that’s right - how did you know?’
‘Oh, just something Dad said a few weeks ago.’
‘Anyway, I haven’t seen you or your mum for ages, but when I walked through the door and saw you talking with your friends, I knew it was you. You have his eyes. And his chin.’
‘His chin?’ April laughed.
‘Yes, the way you stick it out when you’re laying down the law - it’s just like your dad.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I’m afraid I overheard you and your mum in the kitchen. Take it from me, I’ve known William Dunne since we were teenagers and you are his in every way. I also know how much he adored you.’
April looked away.
‘I know, it’s strange talking about him in the past tense, but believe me, it will get better. I lost my wife a couple of years ago and it was hard - really hard - but you’ll pull through. Will was tough as old boots and if you’ve got half of that in you—’ he chuckled ‘—and maybe half of your mother’s fire, then I think you’ll be fine.’
‘I don’t feel fine,’ said April sadly.
‘Listen, if you ever need anything,’ said Peter, getting out his wallet and handing April a business card, ‘advice, help with your homework, or if you just want to talk about your dad, give me a ring. Honestly, it’d be good for me too. I miss that old bugger, I really do.’
‘Thank you,’ said April gratefully, ‘I think I will.’
When she got back inside, Davina, Fiona and Caro were standing in a huddle talking in low voices.
‘April, quick!’ said Davina, pulling her into their corner. ‘We need your help.’
She looked around them, bewildered. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Major intrigue,’ said Caro. ‘Okay, you know Mr Sheldon’s here, right? Well, that’s because he’s a family friend. So Davina asked her mum about it and apparently your mum knew him at uni or something.’
Davina nodded eagerly. ‘So that explains why Hawk’s here, but why has Miss Holden come?’
‘I don’t know,’ said April, completely confused now.
‘Well, Fiona’s got a theory,’ said Davina, bubbling with excitement, ‘and I think she might be right, but we need you to find out.’
‘Find out what?’
‘Whether Miss Holden is Hawk’s date, of course!’
April almost laughed. Trust three teenage girls to find a romantic scandal at a funeral.
‘Well, why don’t you just ask her?’
‘She’s hardly going to talk to me,’ said Davina, as if that should be self-evident. ‘She knows I think she’s a witch. She’s not going to talk to Caro, either, because she thinks she’s the Antichrist and Fee doesn’t know her, so it has to be you.’
April couldn’t believe how quickly Fiona and Davina had bonded. And she was already calling Fiona ‘Fee’? That’s my pet name for her, she thought indignantly.
‘Come on, go,’ said Davina, pushing April towards the hall. ‘She’s in the kitchen. And don’t come back without the scoop.’
April reluctantly walked down the corridor and was relieved to see that Miss Holden was talking to a middle-aged couple. She turned to leave, but the teacher spotted her and waved her over.
‘April, come and meet Mr and Mrs Osbourne, Ben and Davina’s parents.’
Mrs Osbourne was wearing a calf-length fur coat and sporting an amazing jet-black back-combed hairdo that for some reason reminded April of the burning oil well footage on CNN. Mr Osbourne was tall with the same piercing blue eyes as Benjamin, and although he didn’t quite look like the evil Bond villain Caro had made him out to be, April could certainly imagine him as a ruthless captain of industry, breaking strikes and stripping assets in his double-breasted suit. Together they made a formidable pair; even her haughty cousins seemed to be paying deference to them; it was almost as if royalty were in the room. Still, despite their impressive presence, the Osbournes weren’t quite as dazzling as April had expected. Given that their children were so gorgeous, she had pictured them with movie-star looks. But then that was sometimes the way. When you saw the parents of top models it was sometimes as if the slightly wonky DNA on both sides had met in the middle to create a perfectly symmetrical whole.
‘It’s lovely to finally meet you, April,’ said Mrs Osbourne, taking her hand and patting it. ‘We’ve both met your mother a few times and she’s always talking about you, and how well you’re doing at school.’
April thought she saw Miss Holden’s eyebrows rise at that comment, but she might have imagined it.
‘If there’s anything we can do for you, you need only ask,’ said Mr Osbourne, touching her shoulder lightly.
April nodded politely, thinking, I’m not sure you’d be quite so keen to help me out if you knew what my friend Caro and I have been saying about you.
‘Thank you for coming,’ she said. ‘My mother needs all the support she can get right now.’
‘Of course, of course,’ said Mrs Osbourne. ‘I’ll drop by next week when she’s feeling, ah, a little better.’
Mr Osbourne pointed to his watch. ‘Sorry, April, I’m afraid we’re expected elsewhere.’
‘Dinner with the Camerons, it’s quite a bore but one must, mustn’t one? We’ll say goodbye to your dear mother and grandfather on the way out, and Ben will take Davina home later, so don’t worry about rushing her off. You girls have a good old gossip.’ She touched April’s arm as she was walking past. ‘And you must come to the Winter Ball on Saturday. I know you won’t be in the mood to party but sometimes it’s best to take your mind off things. I’ll get Davina to drop off an invitation.’
When they had gone, April was left with Miss Holden. They smiled at each other awkwardly, then looked at the floor. Without the common ground of school, they didn’t seem to have anything to say to each other.
‘So did you come with Mr Sheldon?’ blurted April, to fill the silence.
The teacher laughed. ‘I did, but not as his date, if that’s what you’re asking. No, your mother asked Robert - Mr Sheldon - to bring me along. I met your parents a couple of times when they were choosing a school for you and I guess she assumed you’d need a bit of moral support. Of course, she doesn’t know teenage girls like I do.’ Miss Holden smiled. ‘I think you’ve got all the support you need right over there.’ She nodded towards the door where Davina, Fiona and Caro were watching them, trying to look casual and uninterested.
‘Listen, April,’ said the teacher suddenly, lowering her voice. ‘I know this isn’t the time, but there’s something I need to talk to you about when this is all over.’
April’s heart sank. She wasn’t going to get told off for her assignments on top of everything els
e, was she?
‘What is it? About school?’
‘No, not about school. It’s important,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ll be in touch, and in the meantime you be strong, okay? Your dad was a wonderful man. You should be proud of everything he did.’
As she left, April remained standing alone in the kitchen, her head buzzing with thoughts. What on earth was all that about? But she didn’t have much time to worry about it, because Caro, Davina and Fiona ran in, worried looks on their faces.
April laughed. ‘Don’t look so serious - it wasn’t a date, my mum invited her.’
Caro shook her head. ‘No, no, forget that,’ she said urgently. ‘This is something else.’
‘What is it?’ asked April with a sinking feeling.
The three girls exchanged looks.
‘It’s Gabriel,’ said Fiona. ‘He’s outside.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
He was sitting on the same bench. The bench he had shared with April the night he had brought her doughnuts, the bench she had sat on wrapped in a blanket as she waited for her father’s body to be brought out on a stretcher. April didn’t know how she was going to feel when she saw him and was surprised at the anger that immediately welled up. All her suspicions about Gabriel and his part in her father’s murder sprang back into her mind and she didn’t know when she had ever felt more furious. It was as if someone had poured boiling oil into her head.
‘How dare he?’ she hissed, moving down the path.
‘April, don’t,’ said Fiona, holding her arm. ‘It’s not the right time - think of your mum.’
‘My mum?’ spat April, yanking her arm away. ‘My mum would want him to pay. He killed my dad!’
‘Come on, honey, you don’t know that.’
‘Well, he knows something about it, and I’m going to find out what.’
‘Here, take this, it’s freezing,’ said Fiona, draping April’s coat over her shoulders. April nodded her thanks and strode off across the road. Gabriel looked as if he had been sitting there for a long time; the shoulders of his jacket were dark with the rain and his hair was soaked, plastered against his head, but damn him, he still looked good. She cursed herself that he still made her heart beat a little faster despite her fury, and she turned all her mixed emotions on him.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘Have you come back to the scene of the crime?’
‘Hey!’ he said, holding his hands up. ‘Calm down, I meant no harm coming here.’
‘Don’t tell me to calm down,’ she said, clenching her fists. ‘You have no right.’
‘Well, at least tell me what I’ve done.’
She glared at him. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.’
‘I don’t,’ he said, ‘I really don’t.’
‘So what are you doing here?’ she said. ‘If you’re so innocent, why are you hanging around in the square?’
Gabriel looked at her, then glanced away. ‘I wanted to check you were okay,’ he said.
‘Well, it’s a little late for that, isn’t it? My dad died ten days ago. Yeah, you’re obviously really worried.’
Gabriel looked up at her and his gaze was intense. ‘I tried to call you, April, but your phone was off, remember? You moved out, you weren’t in school and then when I did see you in the corridor, you attacked me. I’ve been worried about you.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘Look, can we go somewhere else to talk?’
A chill ran through April as she remembered him saying the same thing to her that night he had thrown stones at her window. That perfect romantic night when she had longed to spend more time with him, walk arm in arm in the moonlight a little longer. What if she had gone? Would she be here now? Would her dad? She looked back towards the house, but her friends had all gone inside and suddenly she felt vulnerable and alone. Okay, so she didn’t have any hard evidence that Gabriel was the killer and if she was honest, she didn’t want him to be the killer, but what did she really know about him? And at the same time she felt a terrible urge to find out what had happened to her dad that went beyond grief. She had to know.
‘Why do you want to get me on my own?’ she asked, a wobble in her voice. ‘So you can do to me what you did to my dad?’
Gabriel shook his head, looking hurt and confused. ‘I really don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said. ‘Do you think I had something to do with his death?’
‘You know I do.’
‘But that’s ridiculous. Why would you think that?’
‘Okay, so tell me - what were you doing in the cemetery the night Isabelle was killed? Where were you the night before, when Alix Graves was murdered?’
Gabriel looked down at the floor. ‘I’ve told you, April, there are some things I can’t …’ he began, then trailed off.
‘What? You can’t tell me because I wouldn’t understand? Or because then you’d have to tell me what you’ve done?’
He took her arms and stared into her eyes. ‘I haven’t done anything,’ he said.
‘Really? Then tell me what’s going on! What is this big secret?’
‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’
‘Well, try me!’ she shouted. ‘I’ve just buried my father. The least you can do is tell me what you know about it. Who killed him?’
Gabriel shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, but there was an evasive look in his eyes.
‘But you know something, Gabriel - tell me!’
‘I can’t!’ he roared at her.
‘Well leave me alone, then!’ she shouted back, shaking off his hands, and began stalking towards the house. Gabriel jumped up and blocked her way.
‘Let me past,’ she said.
‘Not until you talk to me.’
‘No,’ she said, trying to sidestep him, suddenly remembering what Fiona had said about confronting murderers.
‘April, please!’ he said, anger flaring in his eyes. ‘You’re being stupid.’
‘Why, because I’ve guessed your secret?’ she said, trying to sound more sure of herself than she felt. ‘Because I know you’re a killer?’
‘Because you’re just putting yourself in more danger!’ he cried.
Now April was starting to feel frightened. What danger? Danger of staying here with him? Gabriel was between her and the house. She looked past him at the bright yellow door; it was closed. Why is no one watching? She tried to push past him again, but Gabriel spread his arms out to stop her.
‘Let me explain,’ he said, stepping towards her.
At that moment, she heard a bus whoosh past and, impulsively, she turned and ran.
‘April, stop!’ he called after her. ‘Where are you going?’
Away from you, she thought, but she was running too hard to reply. She ran across the square towards the church, not looking back.
‘Come back!’ he yelled, but she didn’t stop.
The red bus was pulling into the stop outside the Flask pub and she sprinted for it, jumping aboard as the doors swished shut.
‘You in a hurry or somethin’, love?’ said the driver genially.
‘Yes, I’m escaping from a serial killer,’ panted April.
The driver laughed and pulled away from the kerb. April watched as Gabriel skidded to a halt by the bus stop and stared after them.
‘Where to, then?’
‘Uh, sorry?’
‘Where you going?’
April dug in the pocket of her coat and pulled out a handful of change.
‘Anywhere but here.’
Once it had left Highgate and passed through Kentish Town and Camden, the bus slowed to a crawl, the rush-hour traffic in and out of London forcing them to stop and wait for a jam to clear every two minutes. Now she was sure Gabriel was a long way behind her, April relaxed for the first time that day. She had a window seat on the top deck and she was watching the city drift by, almost able to enjoy all the lights and decorations; the shops
looked inviting and interesting and the people looked more glamorous than usual too, wrapped up in their overcoats and scarves, many of them carrying intriguingly shaped parcels, no doubt counting down the shopping days to Christmas. April felt something on her face and put up her hand; she was surprised to feel a tear. God, I’m going to have to stop doing this, she thought. I can’t keep crying at everything. But it was hard to stop sometimes. This would be her first Christmas without her dad and - she knew this was silly - it would be his first Christmas without them. I’m crying because I think my dad will be lonely up in heaven? she scolded herself. Get a grip. Then again, if you couldn’t cry on the day of your father’s funeral, when could you? The thought of the funeral gave her a stab of guilt. She really shouldn’t have left her mother like that, she would be worried. Assuming she’s not passed out already, of course, she thought with a faint smile. She felt bad about leaving Fiona on her own too, after she had come all this way, but she knew Caro would take care of her. She just hoped Davina didn’t get her claws too deeply into her friends while she was gone.