Behind Closed Doors (37 page)

‘Are you sure?’ he’d asked uncertainly.

‘Of course,’ she’d replied, knowing it was what they’d both needed to hear.

And she was sure. She truly wouldn’t have done it if she weren’t, but she’d hurt a man she cared about deeply, a man who deserved to be happy, and who she could have been happy with if things were different. She could never feel good about that.

On reaching the car she turned on her phone and was relieved to find no messages from Martin. It wouldn’t feel right to speak to him now, and knowing him as well as she did she suspected he understood that. She needed this time to herself, to allow the goodbye to feel as certain in her heart as the decision to leave her job.

That was going to be another wrench, another resolution she must come to terms with as she allowed new directions, new horizons to open up for her. She still had no firm ideas of what she might do next, although she hoped to travel before making up her mind. She had an urge to visit places she’d never been to before, and though she knew she’d enjoy exploring them with Martin, she couldn’t help thinking of how different it would have been to explore them with Graeme.

Different, but not better, she reminded herself.

Starting the car, she began heading out of town in the direction of Paradise Cove. There was no point trying to second-guess the future when she, of all people, knew how unpredictable it could be. It was as unreadable as a closed book, or a door that sheltered the secrets behind it.

Or the reasons why some children were found when they disappeared, and others weren’t.

Thank God some were.

‘Hi,’ she said, when Estelle answered the phone, ‘I’m going to be a little earlier than I expected. Is that OK?’

‘Yes, yes, it’s fine,’ Estelle assured her. ‘I think I’ve got everything ready. I can’t wait for you to hear it.’

The following day no one was moving in the Woodland Memorial hall; everyone was listening as the Reverend Fern Gosling addressed the gathering.

‘It isn’t unusual to fear death,’ she was saying, her tone seeming both comforting and curious, ‘most of us do, because we have no real idea of what it means, where we go from here. It’s especially difficult to understand when someone as young as Sophie is taken away. We feel that she hasn’t had her time; that her whole life was still stretching out ahead of her waiting to be fulfilled. I can’t tell you that it wasn’t, but I can tell you what I believe, which is that when Our Lord calls it is because the time He wants us to be here on earth is at an end. He wants us to join Him. You might wonder why He wanted Sophie after such a short and latterly difficult time here, and why He chose to take her the way He did. It’s very hard for us to understand what His reasons might be, and yet, in a way, it can be quite simple. The shock of how it happened, the very real tragedy of it, will have made each one of us pause in our hectic lives to think about Sophie, and other children like her who are afflicted by bereavement, and become desperately lost along the way. Perhaps we will also remember how important it is to appreciate and cherish those we love while they are with us.’

As Andee listened, absorbing each word as though it were a balm for the grief and confusion of the past twenty years, the buried guilt and devastation that Sophie’s passing had shown her she must now start to deal with, she was holding on to Martin’s hand and remembering the memorial service her parents had held for Penny seven years after she’d gone. They’d thought, truly hoped, that it would bring some sort of closure to their suffering, but it never had.

Was her mother thinking about Penny now as she sat here saying goodbye to Sophie?

Of course, she must be, and Andee squeezed the hand Maureen had tucked into her arm.

Though Andee had feared that asking her family to attend two funerals in as many weeks would be asking too much, as it turned out not one of them had stayed away. Even Frank and Jane had made the journey from London, and Martin’s sister Hilary and her husband had also come.

In fact the quaint candlelit hall of the Memorial Woodland was full to capacity. Most of CID were somewhere near the back, while Leo, Jemma, Gould and DCI Spender were in the row behind Andee and her family. Taking up most of the pews, however, were those from the campsite who’d wanted to say their goodbyes, and sixty or more pupils from Sophie’s year at school with half a dozen teachers. Whether or not the bullies were amongst them Andee had no idea; if they were she hoped they were taking some pause to reflect, and perhaps to ask for forgiveness.

Sitting on the other side of her mother were Luke and Grandma Carol. Estelle and her mother, Marian, were at the end of the row. Alayna was with the school choir getting ready to sing.

The gentle humour and compassion Fern Gosling was injecting into the service now was turning out to be as moving as the thought of how surprised, and probably delighted, Sophie would have been if she could see how many had come to say farewell. Maybe she could. Maybe she was watching from somewhere, with her mother, feeling quietly elated by how wonderful it was to be at the centre of all this.

We planted a tree for her mother at the Memorial Woodland
, Gavin had written in his letter.
I’m sure Sophie would want to be with her, and perhaps she could have a Christian ceremony if you’re able to arrange it. There is a white dress of her mother’s that she always kept in her room; if it’s possible perhaps she could wear that
.

If it’s not too much to ask, do you think someone might read the following poem.

If tears could build a stairway

And thoughts a memory lane

I’d walk right up to heaven

And bring you home again.

It’s much longer than that, of course, but I will leave it to you and the minister to decide how much more to include.

Thank you, DS Lawrence, for caring about her. It’s good to know she has a friend at this time.

Yours, Gavin Monroe

Gould had read Gavin’s chosen poem at the cremation two days ago, when they’d tucked the rag doll and original diary into the coffin to go along with her. The ashes were now on a candlelit table in front of the Reverend, contained in a white marble urn and next to a school photograph of Sophie.

It soon came time for Estelle’s reading, and as she walked to the lectern Andee felt for how badly she was shaking. It was so brave of her to do this, but she’d insisted.

‘I’ve written a poem for Sophie,’ she told everyone, speaking quietly into the microphone. ‘It doesn’t always rhyme properly or anything, but . . .’ She shrugged awkwardly, and looked down at the page in front of her.

‘Sophes, it’s not going to be the same without you

No more laughing at things we’re not supposed to

No more shopping for stuff we can’t afford,

Please take care of my friend dear Lord.

Sophes, when I look around at everyone’s face,

Where yours should be there’s only a space

You’re in my heart though, be assured,

Please take care of my friend dear Lord.

Sophie, when I think of all the dreams we had

And the fun we shared, it makes me glad

And I’ll always be glad that you were my best friend,

Please keep her safe, dear Lord here at the end.’

As she started to break down Marian went to bring her back to her seat, and Andee knew without turning round that, like her, the entire gathering was deeply moved by the awkward but heartfelt tribute.

‘Before we go outside to plant a tree for Sophie,’ Fern Gosling was saying as she returned to the stand, ‘the choir from Kesterly High School is going to sing a song that was chosen by Estelle. Apparently Westlife was one of Sophie’s favourite bands, and the song we’re about to hear was also one of her favourites. So it seems very fitting that we should enjoy it now and perhaps, as we’re listening, we can allow the beauty of the words and melody to help us imagine Sophie being carried to our Lord’s, and to her mother’s, side.’

There was a moment before the music teacher struck the opening chords. When she did Andee felt emotion stirring in the hall as though it were a small flock of birds preparing to take flight. Her eyes found Alayna, and her heart swelled with more feeling than she could contain. It wasn’t that she’d never been aware that anything could change at any time, and that only a fool took their blessings for granted, but being here today was reminding her of just how important it was never to forget.

Then her head went down and she thought of both Sophie and Penny as the choir began to sing ‘In the Arms of an Angel’.

For their invaluable help with the research and crafting of this book I would like to express my sincere thanks to Carl Gadd, Martin Williams, Dr Helen Lewis, Joanna Miller in Poland, Ian Kelcey, Rev David Russell, Dr Julia Verne of the South West Public Health Observatory, and Andy Hamilton of the Bristol Coroner’s office.

Please note, should there be any discrepancies in police procedure the responsibility is entirely mine.

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Epub ISBN: 9781448183845

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Copyright © Susan Lewis Ltd 2014

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This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental

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