‘Just a minute,’ said her mother, looking at April, then the two police officers. ‘What’s this? Why didn’t you go straight to school?’
She glanced up at DI Reece. ‘I had a free period,’ she muttered, knowing it was futile to lie, but desperately hoping she could avoid an explanation.
DS Carling was shaking her head before April had even finished the lie. ‘We’ve spoken to your teachers, April,’ she said with some relish. ‘We know you were supposed to be in lessons. What we don’t know is why you skipped class that morning.’
It was that witch Layla,
thought April angrily.
I bet it was
,
she was probably making the call to Crimestoppers the second she heard about Dad. ‘No, she wasn’t in lessons all morning, hair was wet, looked very guilty.’
Or maybe they just spoke to her teachers. April knew she was just looking for someone to blame when it was actually all her fault.
‘I ... I wanted to be alone.’
‘April? Why? What happened?’ said Silvia.
‘Nothing, I j-just ...’ April stammered, ‘I just had some things to think about.’
‘At that time in the morning?’ said Silvia. ‘And what were you doing down by the Ponds?’
April frowned at her mother. Who was doing this interview, her or the police?
‘I don’t know,’ said April lamely.
‘Did you see anyone there?’ asked Reece.
April shook her head. She could tell him before he started making any inquiries that no one had seen her there, not even the dog-walkers.
‘Why did you go for this walk, love?’ he asked her gently.
‘Was it because of this boy?’ asked Silvia.
‘God, Mum!’ cried April. ‘Whose side are you on?’
April let out a long breath. She was loath to come across as some weepy airhead, but she supposed it was better to be a heartbroken teen cliché than a murder suspect. Much better than discussing what had happened between her and her dad that morning. She felt bad enough about that as it was. So she nodded, looking down at her hands.
‘He was supposed to call and he didn’t and I didn’t want to go to Mr Sheldon’s class because he would be there,’ she said in a rush. ‘So I walked around in the rain, then I went to the library for a bit.’
Of course only Layla can confirm that
, she thought.
And I can’t see her rushing to help me out.
She turned to her mother. ‘I’m sorry, Mum, I didn’t mean to upset anyone.’
Silvia surprised her by squeezing her hand. ‘That’s okay, baby,’ she said. ‘I’m not upset.’
DI Reece looked down at his notes, tapping the pad with a pencil thoughtfully. ‘And you didn’t see anyone suspicious or out of the ordinary hanging around?’
April shook her head.
‘What about the other time, the night Isabelle Davis was killed? Did you see anyone that night?’
‘What’s all this about?’ snapped Silvia. ‘April’s already given you a statement about that night. I thought this interview was about the day of my husband’s murder.’
Reece nodded. ‘Okay, so let’s go back to the start of the day,’ he said mildly. ‘What time did you get up? What did you have for breakfast?’
‘Oh. Well, I was up at about seven, I think.’
April winced as she thought of her excitement that morning, jumping out of bed, getting herself ready to see Gabriel.
‘Did you wake up, or did your dad wake you?’ asked DS Carling. April noticed that the chubby policewoman’s manner was much less friendly, her eyes cold and cynical.
Good cop, bad cop so soon?
she thought.
‘Er, I woke up myself.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Well,’ said Reece, ‘why do you think you woke up so early? I’ve got kids myself and most mornings a bomb wouldn’t shift them.’
‘I don’t know,’ said April, unsettled to see Carling scribble ‘Doesn’t know’ in her jotter.
Is not knowing things an offence?
she wondered with alarm.
‘Well, what did you do the night before?’
Her mind flashed on Gabriel, his face looking up at her window. They couldn’t know about that, could they?
‘N-nothing,’ she stammered.
‘Her friends came over,’ said Silvia.
‘And this would be -’ Reece consulted his notes ‘- Caroline Jackson and Simon Oliver?’
Jesus, how did he know that?
April was now seriously off balance. If they already knew about Caro and Simon coming round, what else did they know? Did they know she had lied about seeing Gabriel on the night of Isabelle’s murder? If it had been Gabriel who had tipped the police off about finding her body, then he could well have told them she was there too. Suddenly she became really frightened. What if she couldn’t prove where she had been at the time of either murder? What if they thought she had something to do with her dad’s death? Nerves made her try to bluster it out, cover her fear up with anger.
‘Yes, so what? Can’t I have friends over?’ she snapped.
‘Of course, love,’ said Reece. ‘We were just wondering what the occasion was. Some problem at school? Or was it all about this boy?’ he said, his tone jocular and amused, like it didn’t matter much, but April could see the way his mind was working: if she hadn’t been in school the next day, something must have happened the evening before or first thing in the morning to keep her away, something serious. Reece consulted his notes again. ‘And I understand you had a talk with Mr Sheldon after school that day?’
Silvia looked at April sharply. She didn’t need to speak to communicate her meaning:
You and I are going to have a little chat after this, young lady.
‘What did you discuss with him, exactly?’ continued Reece.
‘He wanted to know why I hadn’t been in class that morning,’ said April defensively.
‘Look, what’s all this about?’ said Silvia impatiently, looking at Reece. ‘I thought you brought us here to help you, not to have you grill my daughter like this.’
‘We’re simply trying to establish how April was feeling that day, Mrs Dunne,’ said Carling with a slightly superior tone. ‘It’s important to know the state of mind of all the suspects—’
‘Suspects?’ snapped Silvia, her cheeks flushing. ‘My daughter is a child grieving for her father, not a suspect!’
‘Now, now,’ said Reece, ‘let’s not get all het up here.’
‘I think I’m well within my rights to get “all het up”, Inspector,’ said Silvia. ‘April has told you everything she knows and you seem to be intent on insulting her. She is sixteen years old, for goodness sake. Her father has been murdered. We came here voluntarily, so if you’re not going to ask any relevant questions, I think we’ll leave,’ she said, moving her chair back.
DS Carling cleared her throat. ‘Actually, the meeting with Mr Sheldon was lucky for April. If she had left five minutes earlier, she might have been there when the attack happened. Their talk gives her an alibi.’
‘An
alibi?’
hissed Silvia. The fury came off her like heat and DI Carling flinched. ‘Do you really think that my little girl might go to her own home and
tear her own father’s throat out?’
She was on her feet and screaming now. ‘How
dare
you even consider such a thing?’ she yelled, leaning forwards over the table and spitting the words out. Silvia turned to the detective inspector and her voice was suddenly cold and hard as stone. ‘I will have your job, your career, your comfortable, cosy
life
for this. Mark my words, you have made a terrible mistake.’
April could see from his expression that DI Reece fully agreed with her.
With that, Silvia took April’s hand and calmly walked to the door. ‘Goodbye, Detective Inspector,’ she said.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you missed school that morning?’ asked Silvia.
April shook her head. ‘Because you don’t want to know.’
Silvia slammed the car door, breaking the silence. They hadn’t spoken on the drive back to Covent Garden. April was still reeling from the grilling, Silvia was still fuming, and somehow in the space of the journey mother and daughter had turned all their anger and frustration towards each other. April had been grateful for her mother’s fearsome protectiveness in the interview, but slowly that had turned to annoyance; why had she asked so many questions? It was almost as if she was trying to help the police catch her out. She guessed that Silvia was similarly annoyed that April hadn’t told her about skipping school. But then why would she? She wasn’t going to tell her mother everything, was she? Especially when her mother barely acknowledged her most of the time.
‘What do you mean, I don’t want to know?’ snapped Silvia, unbuttoning her trenchcoat as they walked from her granddad’s underground garage up into the house.
‘Because you haven’t been there for me, have you?’ said April.
‘What are you talking about? I’ve been here with you every moment since we left Highgate.’
‘Oh, is that what you call it? Sleeping the day away, sitting in the dark? I came in to speak to you loads of times, but you just wanted to watch daytime TV with the curtains closed. I’ve not gone to school all week - is that news to you too?’
‘I’m finding this hard as well, you know,’ said Silvia as she pushed through the front door and threw her car keys on the hall table.
‘I know, Mum! But this is what I mean - even now, now when I need you the most, you can’t help being completely selfish.’
‘You won’t talk to me like that! I’m your mother!’ she shouted.’
‘Are you? Well, it’s a little bit late to start acting that way now.
Silvia grabbed her arm, spinning her around. ‘You will show me respect,’ she hissed. ‘Your father—’
‘My father? Don’t talk about him! You made his life a misery, yelling at him all the time, telling him how useless he was. Well, now you’ve got what you wanted, haven’t you? I bet you’re glad he’s dead.’
Silvia’s hand came flying out of nowhere, leaving a stinging mark on April’s cheek. ‘How could you? How
could you?
April ran through the house and out through the French windows onto the balcony looking down over the small courtyard garden. She needed to escape, to find some space, some air - she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. She leant on the white marble balustrade, watching as the tears plopped down onto the stone. April knew she’d gone too far, but she needed to strike out at someone or she’d explode, the pressure in her head was too much to bear. What if it was all her fault? What if the things she’d said to her dad that morning had made him do something that led to his death? What if she’d stayed at home, or ignored Mr Sheldon - maybe she could have saved him?
Or you’d be dead too
, her mind mocked her,
just like Isabelle Davis. And you didn’t help her either
,
did you?
For a moment, April wished it
had
been her. She knew people said it in films all the time, but she genuinely would have swapped places with her father in a heartbeat. Death was preferable to this living hell. She pulled a raggedy tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes, taking a few deep breaths.
It’s all so unfair,
she thought,
why can’t I have normal parents?
But she didn’t have parents
plural
, did she? Not any more. April gasped and covered her eyes as it hit her what had happened the last time she’d had a screaming fight like this.
I can’t cry again,
she thought, squeezing her nails into her palm.
I’m always
crying.
I’ve got to stop this, it’s so childish
. But then April knew that was the real reason why she’d been so angry with her mother: she wanted to be childish, she wanted to curl up into a ball and have her mum hug her and kiss her and tell her it was all going to be all right. Some hope: hugs weren’t exactly Silvia’s strong suit, never had been. ‘I’m sorry,’ said a voice.
April turned around. Her mother’s eyes were red-ringed and wet. ‘Well, this is a first,’ said April sarcastically. She knew she should relent, give her mother some credit, some compassion - after all, she was suffering too - but April was still too angry to be reasonable.