I guess I’d always known she’d say that, and it’s amazing the kinds of things you can get used to in just a few days… like not being able to trust your parents anymore.
I sighed and called Will to check he was awake.
***
The funeral was held at the local church, St Michael and All Angels, and the turnout was pretty huge.
Most people from work were there, apart from the new guy, Graham, who I assumed must be manning the cinema. Veronica was nowhere to be seen.
John, unsurprisingly, looked awful; I could see him at the front of the church with Emma’s parents, and he looked physically sick.
“I guess the police don’t think it was him, then.”
I punched Will on the arm, a bit more violently than I’d intended. “Will, now is not the time.”
St Michael’s was a small but cosy church with beautiful stained glass windows, elegant marble statues, and creaky wooden pews. Although I wasn’t at all religious, I’d always loved it here.
Will, who had never entered the church before, didn’t seem too bothered about the décor. “John seems really nervous.”
I looked over; he was running his fingers through his hair and checking his watch. “Of course he’s nervous; it’s his girlfriend’s funeral. Will you stop?”
I glanced at Emma’s parents and felt my stomach churn. Her mum was in fits of tears and her dad was just staring straight ahead of him at his daughter’s coffin, which had been placed at the front of the church. Emma was their only child - as far as I knew - and I couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain they were going through.
At that moment, the vicar - Reverend Roger Kipling - took to the pulpit. Everyone hushed and I braced myself for the emotional service. I’d never been to a funeral before and I had no idea what to expect.
The vicar had got a few words into his opening speech when the back door of the church opened, allowing a gust of cold wind to come rushing up the aisle. Everyone turned round to see Norman Carter, looking a bit embarrassed at his dramatic entrance as he closed the door again and went to sit on a pew near the back.
Will, as I knew he would, raised his eyebrows at me and whispered, “What’s he doing here?”
“He’s probably friends with her parents or something… he knows everyone.” Which was true, but it didn’t stop me from turning round to stare at him; he looked even more nervous than John, fidgeting in his seat and looking around him at all the familiar faces.
I turned back to focus on the front of the church. “And now, if you’d turn to the third page of your order of service we will stand and sing ‘Jerusalem’.”
I heard Will groaning as we stood and flipped to the right page. I made a mental note never to ask him to another church service again.
The organist started playing and the congregation joined together for the song, their sorrowful voices filling the small church.
“And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England’s mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England’s pleasant pastures seen?”
I sang along with slight confusion. I couldn’t imagine Emma ever being a fan of something like ‘Jerusalem’ but, then again, I didn’t suppose her parents would know what she wanted sung at her funeral.
“And did the countenance divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among those dark Satanic mills?”
I looked around the church and saw Rach on the other side, trying to hold it together, and our boss Hannah behind her, staring sternly but sadly at her order of service.
The acoustics in the church were impressive, and the sound of everyone coming together to sing that particular song gave me goose bumps.
“Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spears, O Clouds unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire!”
I glanced back at Norman and was amazed to see him crying; he looked totally devastated. I tapped Will’s arm and gestured to the rear of the church so he’d turn round as well.
He took a quick look at Norman and raised his eyebrows at me again. “OK…”
“I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England’s green and pleasant land.”
The congregation raised their voices for the last verse, and a tingle ran down my spine in response to the powerful words. When the song reached its iconic last line, Norman lost his self-control.
He was holding a plain white handkerchief to his eyes, spluttering into it as everyone else was singing the closing words. He was so loud that a few people near the back turned to look at him, and he put his handkerchief down, staring at the floor, his cheeks blazing red.
In the few seconds after the song ended, his sniffling was all that could be heard.
***
After the funeral, we all went to Emma’s parents’ house, where Will and I sat eating sandwiches in the corner of their living room.
The house was quite small but beautifully styled, with framed photographs of the family on almost every wall. I knew most of the people there but none of them well (apart from The Couple, and they’d left a while before), so we were sitting pretty much on our own.
Rach had looked like she was still having trouble keeping it together, and I’d sent her a text asking if she was OK after she’d left. I didn’t really expect a reply after my book club behaviour, but I thought I’d better try.
I also took the opportunity to text Veronica. She’d always liked John and from what I could tell, she hadn’t even spoken to him since Emma’s death. I felt bad about using him as an excuse to contact her, but I thought it might pull some heart strings, or at least put things in a different perspective for her. Whatever I’d done to upset her couldn’t be on the same level as someone dying. At least, I hoped not.
I sent her a text saying I was at the funeral and John looked like he could use a friend right now, if she wasn’t busy ignoring absolutely everyone. I didn’t try to be polite.
I got a reply surprisingly quickly. Unfortunately, it was only a few words long:
‘Tell John I’m sorry for his loss.’
I read it over twice before replying with:
‘Tell him yourself.’
I gave Will my phone so he could see what she’d written, and then picked a bread stick off the nearby table.
I was just about to get up to find some dips to go with it when Will asked, “Who’s Tom?”
I glared at him and grabbed my phone back. “Don’t you know it’s rude to go through other people’s messages?”
“I didn’t mean to! I pressed the down button too many times.”
He looked genuine enough, and I knew it was easy to do on my ancient phone. “OK, sorry.”
I wondered how long it would take him to ask the question again.
It took about two seconds.
“So, who’s Tom?”
I groaned, not wanting to go into this with Will. Especially not now. “He’s an old boyfriend, OK?”
Will raised his eyebrows.
“What? Is it so unbelievable that I’ve had boyfriends?”
An amused smile was threatening to emerge on Will’s face. “No! Course not. I just hadn’t heard about him.”
I shrugged. “We went out for a couple of years when I was in high school. He was about two years older, he went off to France for Uni, and I haven’t seen him since. Happy now?”
“But you hear from him?”
I put my phone back in my pocket. “Not for a while.”
“So why is he texting you now?”
I put the bread stick back, realising I wouldn’t be able to take even a small bite during this insane questioning. “I have no idea, Will. Maybe he was bored. What’s it to you, anyway?”
He held u
p his hands, palms facing me. “Nothing, nothing.”
I nodded, finally agreeing with him on something. I went to pick up the bread stick again when he started once more.
“So is he planning on coming back any time soon?”
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down; Will could be so annoying. “I doubt it, he always hated Little Forest. Why?”
Will just shrugged. “No reason.”
I threw the bread stick at him.
***
“How much longer do you think we should stay?” I asked, quietly so no one else would hear me.
We’d been waiting to see if Norman would turn up, but he’d left as soon as the service had ended and he hadn’t reappeared.
Will stuffed his last sandwich in his mouth and then proceeded to answer through the bread and cucumber. “Well, Rach left already.”
I looked away from his mouth in disgust and saw John walking over to me. I smiled at him awkwardly and he returned it just as awkwardly.
“Hi Beth.”
“Hi John. This is Will…” John nodded at him. “I’m so sorry about Emma.”
He pulled a chair up in front of us and nodded again. “Thanks.”
He wasn’t in a good way; he had dark lines around his eyes and more stubble than I’d ever seen on his usually smooth chin. He also looked like he hadn’t washed his hair in a week.
As awful as I could imagine the whole thing must be for John, a selfish part of me wished he’d go away so I wouldn’t have to think of things to say.
“Thanks for coming.”
I nodded, unsure of funeral etiquette. “It was a good turnout.”
It was John’s turn to nod.
The silence was starting to become colossal, and I looked over at Will for some help.
“So… was Norman close with Emma?”
I scowled at him; I didn’t mean that kind of help.
John looked confused. “Sorry?”
“Norman Carter, came in late, kept crying a lot, I didn’t know he was close with her?”
I kicked Will’s leg, not as subtly as I’d hoped, and he yelped.
John just shook his head. “He’s not, well not that I know of. Maybe he used to be friends with her parents or something…”
He trailed off and I smiled at him, hoping he didn’t find Will’s questioning too strange.
At that moment John straightened up and took a deep breath. “So, Beth. I saw Rach before the church service, and she mentioned you saw Emma outside The Pit?”
I cringed and made a mental note to yell at Rach later. I can only imagine it must have slipped out by accident; she knew how confused and freaked out I was by the whole thing. “Er… well it turns out it wasn’t her… it must have been another blonde girl.” I took a deep breath, finishing weakly with, “I was quite drunk.”
Will, who had now finished his sandwich, looked at me with his brow furrowed. “I thought you were certain it was her?”
Damn it, I should have just told Will earlier. I shook my head, trying to think how to word my answer. “No, the police told me the timing was all wrong, it couldn’t have been her.”
John sank into his chair, putting his head in his hands. “So you don’t have any information?”
“Information?”
“I’m just trying to figure out what happened. I thought if you’d seen her…” he glanced up at me, desperation in his eyes. I wondered how many times he’d stayed awake at night, going over every last detail, looking for an answer. Any kind of answer.
Again I thought of her running off into the darkness, being on the brink of following her, and then just going back to my friends. But hadn’t it already been too late by that point?
I took a deep breath, pushing the thought to the back of my mind, where it would rest with all the others.
“I thought we knew what happened? Alcohol, falling over, vomit…” I saw the tortured look on his face and wished the ground would swallow me up. Tact in the face of a grieving boyfriend was clearly not one of my skills. And I’d thought Will was bad.
“That’s what the police reckon.”
Will pulled his chair closer to both of us. “You don’t?”
I glared at him, trying to warn him not to go too far, but he was staring straight at John.
“The police are rubbish. They’re not used to murders around here; they see what they want to see.”
I could feel my throat getting very dry, and I wished I had a drink near me.
“Murders?”
John nodded. “You said the police told you that you were wrong? Well they did the same to me. I was the one who suggested that we go to the castle after The Pit; I thought if Emma had taken the step to go to a rock club she might be more willing to do other things I liked. A lot of my friends hang around the castle at night, it’s a laugh, and I wanted her to be less shallow and uptight…”
He trailed off and proceeded to stare at the floor. “We got there around eleven - we left The Pit early because Emma didn’t want to stay - and we had a bit of a fight about not going to Willowton, so she ran off into the woods. I tried to follow her but you know what it’s like there, especially at night, and I wasn’t exactly sober either.” He stopped again and ran his fingers through his hair like I’d seen him do at the church.
I smiled at him in encouragement. “Go on.”
“I couldn’t see her but I could hear her. She was trampling through the trees really loudly - it must have been her high heels - and then the sounds just stopped. There was silence for a few seconds and then…” He paused again, and even though I could tell this was hard for him, I was desperate to hear the rest of the story. After a few moments he found his voice. “I heard her yell at someone. She wasn’t alone.”
I thought back to the way she’d shouted at me outside The Pit and felt a slight sick feeling rising in my throat. The same feeling I’d been having a lot lately. The same feeling I got whenever I pushed something to the back of my mind, ignoring its significance. “Did you see who it was?”
John shook his head, his mouth contorting into a grimace. “I heard her yell… and then there was silence.” He had tears brimming in his eyes and my heart went out to him. “I knew then, I knew, that something was wrong.”
I couldn’t speak anymore.
Will fielded the next question. “What did you do?”
The tears consumed John, and even though he’d been building up to it, it was still a shock to see him like that. “I ran.”
He spluttered out the two words - each syllable filled with a pain I’d never known - and put his head in his hands, trying to stop the sobs. It reminded me of Norman’s behaviour in the church.
“I was drunk and I was scared and I left her there! I ran home and dived in bed. I rang Emma’s mobile every half an hour or so until I fell asleep, desperately hoping she’d answer. And when I woke up, I saw on the news… that she’d been… she’d been found…” He started crying again and I looked at Will helplessly.
“So what did the police say?” Even Will’s voice sounded shaky now.
He took a deep breath and tried to get himself under control. “Well, they were suspicious and they asked me questions for hours, they obviously thought that I’d had something to do with it. In the end they believed me about Emma running away, but as I was drunk, I wasn’t a reliable witness.”
I smiled bitterly. “Sounds about right.”
“I keep running it over in my mind. If only I’d tried harder to find her, if only I hadn’t left her…”
I leaned forwards and put my hand over John’s, not knowing what else to do. “It’s not your fault.”
John grunted to himself. “I should have done something, no matter what state I was in. You didn’t hear her, she sounded terrified.”
I thought back to her outside the Pit, dirt on her face, dress torn. Terrified sounded about right.
The tears were coming again and I squeezed his hand tighter. I decided if I didn’t ask the questi
on I was dreading, Will probably would, sooner or later. “What was she shouting?”
He wiped away his tears with his free hand and stared at the floor again. “She asked, ‘What are you doing?’”
My stomach knotted.
“And then… and then…”
He paused, and I knew what he was going to say before he blurted it out, his voice thick with the anguish of the terrible memory.
“She yelled, ‘Get away from me, you freak!’”
***
I blinked in the afternoon sun and steadied myself on the Harris’s garden fence. I’d dropped John’s hand as soon as he’d recounted Emma’s last words - the words I somehow had also heard, later on and in a different place - and I was now hyperventilating in the back garden.
It had all happened so quickly, and I’d completely and utterly panicked.
I felt perspiration on my top lip and wiped it away absent-mindedly. I’d barely taken three deep breaths when Will appeared beside me.
“Beth, are you OK?”
I didn’t answer and he started babbling. “I know it’s upsetting hearing what actually happened… it’s OK to show your grief.”
I took another deep breath. “It’s not that.”
“What then?” He studied my face. “You really don’t look good.”
I felt even worse.
I sat down on the grass and Will followed suit. It was cold and slightly damp but I hardly noticed. My mind could only currently focus on one thing at a time, and this thing was a big one. It was so big that it was threatening to release all of those thoughts and memories I had so carefully locked away.
“It’s nothing, I just needed some air.”
Will didn’t look convinced. “So you ran off at top speed without saying a word? Come on, you can tell me.”
Could I? I desperately wanted to tell him, to tell him everything that had been driving me mad these past few days, but the thought of him laughing at me made me think twice.
“I’m sorry, Will, I just can’t. You wouldn’t understand.” He looked hurt, so I added a quick, “No one would.”
He nodded to himself slowly, eyes focused on nothing in particular. I waited for a few seconds, not knowing what else to say, until he turned to me, looking more serious than I’d ever seen him. “Beth, I know in the past we haven’t exactly been besties, but I kind of hoped that had been changing. Especially since… well, since the whole Veronica thing.” He cleared his throat. “I want you to know that if there’s anything you want to talk about, anything that’s getting to you, you can tell me. Don’t keep stuff bottled up - it’s not healthy.”