Sweetie (23 page)

Candles flickered softly and mourners spoke in hushed whispers, waiting for the funeral procession.

A collective throat-clearing signified its arrival and people shifted uncomfortably in their seats, turning to see the pall-bearers, Paul Foster, Terry’s brother Aaron Williams, and two other men Grace didn’t know, make their way down the aisle, holding Wayne’s coffin aloft, its canopy of lilies leaving a strong scent in its wake. Sue and Terry followed behind, holding their daughters’ hands, with the grandparents bringing up the rear.

When they had all taken their seats in the two front pews, the Vicar shuffled some papers for a moment or two to get his composure before begin -

ning: ‘ “
The Grace and Mercy of our Lord Jesus
Christ be with you.
” ’ The congregation responded,

‘ “
And also with you.
”’ Sue let out one small sharp cry and Grace craned her neck to see Terry slide his arm around her. ‘ “
Our faith in God consoles us in
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our sorrow and he is with us now. Let us draw near
to him with confidence, and in a few moments of
silence confess to him our human weakness and our
failings.
” ’ Grace asked God to forgive her for her resentful feelings towards Lizzie and prayed that he would help her be of whatever service she could to those around her. She thanked him for sparing Adam’s life and asked that he keep Wayne safe in heaven, in the hope that he would meet up with Chantal there and tell her that they all loved and missed her. Grace’s faith allowed her to believe that the two children were together now, out of harm and free from pain.

The congregation stood then for the hymn ‘Abide With Me’. Grace was grateful when it ended and she could sit down again. After a summer spent in flip-flops her feet felt crammed into her high heels, swollen and puffy, and she was grateful to take the weight off them. Her black tailored suit was now a little too big, due to the weight she had lost, but she still looked elegant and sophisticated even in mourning.

Looking around her, she spied many familiar faces, some she hadn’t seen for years. It was extraordinary how a funeral brought everybody out of the woodwork, she thought, unable to decide if this was a mark of genuine respect or just plain nosiness. Looking again at the two unknown pall-bearers and trying to think who they were, she decided they must be from Sue’s Hoxton family.

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The Vicar then announced that Wayne’s best friend would give a reading, and Grace’s heart beat faster as she watched her nephew Jamie make his way down the aisle and mount the steps to the lectern. She crossed her fingers and made a wish that he wouldn’t stumble over his words. He stood there silently for a few moments, suddenly such a tiny figure in a black suit that looked two sizes too big, and Grace held her breath, willing him to hold it together.

Finally he took a gulp of air and began to recite,

‘“
All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great
and small, all things wise and wonderful, the Lord
God gave them all.
”’ He faltered then and cleared his throat. Grace’s heart went out to him and she turned her head to see John wipe a tear from his cheek. She squeezed his hand and they both watched Jamie who breathed deeply again and finished the spoken hymn.

It had been familiar to both boys. They sang it often in school and it was the boys’ favourite.

Then Jamie pulled a scrap of paper from his over -

sized pocket and started to read aloud from it. ‘Wayne was my mate, and he looked after me. He taught me how to ride my bike and how to play better football.

He was like a big brother, and I’m sorry . . .’

A huge sob filled his throat then and he couldn’t force it down. Sorrow had him in its grip again and he looked out into the sea of faces for guidance from his mum.

Gillian left her pew and went up to him. He wiped 228

his face with the back of his hand and flushed with relief to see her approach. She held out her hand and he descended the steps from the lectern. His head bowed, he held his mum’s hand tightly all the way back down the aisle.

Grace felt a swelling of pride for her nephew and reached her hand forward to squeeze her sister’s arm as she sat back down with a distraught Jamie by her side. Gillian turned and gave her a tearful smile and for a moment they held each other’s gaze as if to say, Didn’t he do well?

They all stood for the next hymn, which passed in a blur for Grace as she gazed at Wayne’s coffin before the altar, feeling so sad for Sue and Terry but so grateful that it wasn’t her Adam lying there when it so easily could have been. As they sat back down an audible sobbing from the front pew competed with the Vicar’s voice as he led the congregation in their prayers. Everyone joined in and a murmur of prayer filled the church.

The swelling voices said ‘Amen’ again before the Vicar finished the service by looking towards Wayne’s heartbroken parents. His gaze on Sue and Terry, he spoke directly to them when he said,

‘ “
Almighty God, Father of all mercies and giver of all
comfort: Deal graciously, we pray thee, with those
who mourn, that casting every care on thee, they may
know the consolation of thy love; through Jesus
Christ our Lord.
” ’

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The vicar signalled to the pall-bearers to take up the coffin once more and bear it to the burial ground.

As the service ended, people began to speak quietly while they waited for Sue and Terry to walk out after the coffin. The pews slowly emptied behind them, Grace and John moving slowly in the awkward pro -

cession, jammed in with the other mourners trying to get out through the narrow church doors.

Grace looked around her at all the people, smiling at some she recognised, thinking it incredible that so many had turned out to say goodbye to a boy who had not been entirely popular in the neighbourhood.

Most of them had had a window broken or a car stripped by Wayne and might have thought he needed to be taught a lesson or two, but no one had wanted this.

As they filed past the final pews at the back of the church, a stocky figure dressed in scruffy work clothes caught her eye. He stood out a bit with his casual dress and dirty unkempt look. His head was bent, revealing greasy dishevelled hair. She couldn’t work out who it was. Finally he looked up, catching her eye, and she recognised him. It was George. A cold shiver ran through her then and she looked quickly away. But she couldn’t stop herself from looking again and he was still staring at her – and in that moment she
knew
. She had seen that same look before, that predatory gaze and the steeliness beneath the faint smile.

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Suddenly unsteady and with her tummy turning over, Grace gulped back a wave of sickness. She thought she might faint. She grabbed John’s arm roughly, to steady herself, and as he turned to her and mouthed softly, ‘You all right?’ she replied, ‘No.’

And still George held her gaze, sensing her discomfort, mocking her. In a flash, she saw Adam, frightened and in pain, struggling with the nasty, smelly man. She felt her face grow hot, her knuckles clench into fists. As soon as they got outside she motioned John to one side.

‘What’s up, babe?’ he asked, full of concern.

‘It’s him, that George! He did it, John, I know he did.’ Grace’s voice was trembling with barely suppressed rage. ‘Don’t ask me how, just trust me, I know it.’

‘How come?’

‘From the way he looked at me in there . . .

something about him . . . God, I don’t know how, John, but I just know it’s him! He hurt our boy, and he murdered Wayne and Chantal. You’ve got to believe me!’ Desperation filled her voice. ‘What are we going to do?’ She looked nervously around, hoping that nobody had overheard.

John looked at his wife intently, trying to decide.

Her instincts were usually bang on, but this was hardly the time or the place.

Grace scanned the crowd and tried to calm down, hoping no one would notice her manic air. She 231

squeezed her legs together. Fear always made her want to pee. Her whole body was trembling. Her mind raced. There were other things too that made her certain . . . Her heart was suddenly thumping so loudly she thought everyone would hear it.

‘We’re not going to do anything yet, just hold your horses.’ John pulled her to him, held her tight and stroked her hair. ‘Easy, baby, easy.’

‘I can’t go to the wake, John. I’m shaking like a leaf.’ Grace held out her hand and watched it tremble. The drizzle was building into a fine rain and umbrellas were going up all around them. John fished in his pocket for some cash and pressed some notes into his wife’s hand. ‘Grab a cab and wait for me at home. I’ll go for one drink then join you back at the house in about an hour. Try not to get yourself in too much of a state.’ He held her face in his hands and kissed her, keeping eye contact all the time. ‘All right?’

She nodded but still looked anxiously at the door of the church, waiting for
him
to come out.

‘He’s in a church, a house of God . . . the bastard!

I want to kill him, John, really I do. I just want to kill him.’ Grace’s eyes were brimming with tears now.

‘Just go. I’ll see you in a bit, all right?’

She nodded and made her way down the stone steps and out on to Brick Lane. Gillian came up to John and said, ‘What was all that about? Where’s she gone?’

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‘Not now, Gill, later.’

Surprisingly, Grace got a cab easily. A few had lined the street, sensing the opportunity for a fare, and while other mourners milled about, talking and looking at the flowers, Grace made a quick exit. She sat back in her seat, trying to breathe deeply and regain her composure. The taxi driver made small talk and Grace nodded here and there, pretending she was listening, but all she wanted now was the comfort of her home and her babies in her arms.

Something pure that would take away that image of George Rush now fixed for ever in her mind: his slight smirk and those dark yellow teeth.

233

Chapter Fifteen

Grace and John sat up half the night, going over it all.

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her, he knew only too well what she had suffered in the past, but he needed to understand what made her so sure. He was worried that she was too emotionally involved because of Adam and the others.

‘Look, babe, everyone’s upset about this, especi -

ally as our kids have been affected, but maybe we’d be better off speaking to Old Bill first?’

‘And tell them what, John? He’s got this funny look in his eyes? That I can feel it in my bones? Oh, yeah, I’m sure they’ll arrest him for that. Look, I can’t put it into words. I just
know
.’

Grace drained her glass of Bacardi and Coke and stood up to get another. She wasn’t much of a drinker but tonight her nerves were feeling shot through and she needed something to steady them. Looking deep into the bottom of her glass, through the tears in her eyes, she continued speaking, dry-mouthed as she relived her worst childhood memories.

‘For years all my senses were tuned in to Gary. The way he looked at me, his behaviour, the way he strutted about because he controlled not only me, but 234

everyone. That atmosphere he created when he walked into a room. Always the big I am, with his money and his jokes. Tickling me, and Gill . . .

making my mum roar with laughter. I was the only one who knew what was really going on, and that’s too much for a kid to handle.’

She poured the Coke slowly into her glass, and a slight smile crossed her face as she remembered Gary was dead.

‘Besides, if we tell the police we think it’s George and then he gets a pasting, it’s a bit of a giveaway, isn’t it? I’m surprised they haven’t come knocking already about Steven Archer.’ John was stung by her comment; she could see him flinch. Feeling remorse -

ful, she sat back down next to him on the sofa and said, ‘I’m sorry, love, that was uncalled for. But this time it’s different, John, I know it.’

‘No, you’re right in a way . . . about young Steven.

It’s why I’m feeling dodgy about this. We got it wrong last time, and you were so upset, Grace. I don’t want anything else coming between us, we’ve been through enough.’

‘I know, love, I know.’

‘Look, if you can be as sure as is humanly possible that it was him who hurt our boy then I personally will rip the fucker limb from limb. But my first duty is to protect you and our kids, and I can’t do that from a cell in Pentonville.’

Grace could see that she wasn’t getting far and 235

decided to change tack. She needed John to take the lead.

‘Did you speak to Terry at the wake?’ she asked.

He nodded.

‘What did he say?’

‘Not much. Pretty dignified really. You could see he was fit to murder, but he was holding it together for Sue. She just sat in a corner, not speaking to anybody. There were crowds of people standing around her but you could see she wasn’t really there.

She ain’t half lost a lot of weight. Terry says he can’t get her to eat a crumb. It’s all a terrible strain on them, Gracie. They seemed to be together, but apart too. I can’t imagine what this is going to do to the pair of them.’

‘Mmm,’ murmured Grace, remembering how she had felt in the immediate aftermath of the attack on Adam. She knew in her heart how easy it was for a grieving couple to blame each other, to look in vain to the other to take away the pain and guilt, and knew that a lot of marriages failed for far less. ‘I’ll see her tomorrow when I take TJ back. Michelle spent an afternoon with her the other day, couldn’t get a word out of her apparently.’

‘Yeah, but I’m sure it helps, just being with someone who knows what you’re going through.

Michelle has been incredible. I don’t know where she gets her strength. Maybe it’ll help Sue through.’

John looked terribly sad and Grace gazed at him, 236

wondering if he spoke to his mates about what had happened to them, and if any of them really under -

stood. It must be lonely being a bloke, she thought.