‘Well, thank you for letting me see it—’
‘Isabelle,’ said Mr Gill.
April looked up sharply. The shopkeeper was bent over a large ledger on his desk.
‘Isabelle Davis, that was her name,’ he said. ‘I wrote it down in case a cheaper copy came in, although, as I told her, that’s most unlikely. Yes, I remembered it because of the name. Apparently she and the author were distantly related.’
‘Could it have been the same Isabelle Davis who was killed in the cemetery?’
Mr Gill’s rheumy eyes opened wider. ‘Do you think so?’ he said. ‘I read about it of course, a terrible business, but you never think of it happening to someone you’ve spoken to, do you? My word, the poor girl.’
April could feel the hairs standing up on her neck. ‘Thank you, Mr Gill.’
She turned towards the door and pulled the handle.
‘Of course, if you’re not too busy, I could always give you a precis of the book,’ he said, picking it up and waving it at her. ‘I read it after she’d left. Very interesting, actually. Especially in the light of the, uh, murder.’
‘Oh, that would be fantastic.’
‘Well, sit yourself down over there and let’s see what I remember, but not before I’ve put the kettle on, mmm?’ he said, reaching for an ancient plastic jug. ‘I’m sure you’d like a cup of tea?’
‘Oh yes,’ said April. ‘Yes I would, very much.’
Chapter Twenty- Five
The gate clanged and a squeal rang around the square. Fiona was out of the taxi almost before it had stopped, throwing her arms around April and squeezing.
‘Stop, Fee,’ she moaned, half-coughing, half-laughing. ‘You’re going to suffocate me.’
‘I’m just so glad to see you,’ said Fiona, after they’d paid the bemused cabbie and lugged her case back to the house. ‘I wish it was in better circumstances, of course. How are you?’
April almost laughed at her friend’s dour expression; Fiona looked even more pale and gloomy than April. It didn’t help of course that Fee was wearing her funeral garb of a black silk dress, long black gloves and a black pillbox hat with a veil, presumably the one she had bought to mourn Alix Graves’ passing. Fitting her proud Scots heritage, Fiona had wavy red hair and creamy white skin, but her pretty face was more washed out than usual today. Fee always took an almost method-acting approach to choosing the right look for the right occasion, reflected April; she’d hit it spot on for the funeral.
‘I’m okay,’ said April sadly. ‘It’s better when I’m busy. I wish you’d let me come to meet you at the station.’
Fiona shrugged. ‘I thought you’d have more important things to do today.’
April nodded. If it had been a normal day, she would much rather have been doing more digging into her Dad’s death, especially with all the strange stuff she’d discovered in Mr Gill’s shop the previous day. But then, if it had been a normal day, her Dad wouldn’t be lying in a coffin at the undertaker’s waiting to be taken to the church.
‘I guess I should be helping Mum with stuff for the wake,’ said April, ‘but I’d rather spend time with you than hang around with her, fussing over the vol-au-vents.’
‘How is she?’
April shrugged as she helped Fiona carry her suitcase up the stairs to her room. ‘I think she’s okay. She’s coping by totally throwing herself into getting all the last-minute details right - like anyone cares about the cakes at a funeral,’ she said with exasperation.
‘What about your grandpa?’
‘He’s not coming until later. But we’ll no doubt have a house full of weird relatives I’ve never met before when we come back here, so it’s good I’ve got someone of my own to hold my hand.’
‘Aren’t you having any of your new friends over, like Caro and Simon? I’m dying to meet them,’ she began, then stopped herself. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—’
‘Don’t be silly,’ smiled April. ‘It’s just a figure of speech. Anyway, Caro’s coming to the wake - it’s only a small ceremony at the grave. And Mum’s invited Davina and Ben because she wanted to invite Mr and Mrs Osbourne, her new BFF on the social circuit. Anyway, enough about that - can’t we talk about something normal? Tell me what’s happening in Edinburgh.’
They sat on the bed and Fiona filled April in on all the latest gossip: what was happening at school, who’d been spreading rumours about who, which boys Fiona and Julie had seen at the shopping centre and what it all meant. April loved every minute of it, constantly stopping Fiona to eagerly ask for more details. For a little while, it felt as if she had never left Edinburgh and that all these life-and-death scraps of gossip were everything that mattered in the world.
If only we had stayed in Scotland,
thought April.
Then this world Fee’s talking about really would be mine. But it’s not, is it?
But her ears still pricked up when Fiona dropped the biggest news of all: that Miranda Cooper was no longer seeing Neil Stevenson.
‘According to Neil’s friend Jake, Neil reckoned she was “too immature”,’ said Fiona. ‘Julie thinks that’s boy-code for “wouldn’t put out”, but either way, he’s single again.’
April tried to look enthusiastic, but the smile didn’t quite make it to her eyes.
‘Sorry, April,’ said Fiona, squeezing her knee. ‘I know it’s difficult today.’
‘No, it’s not that,’ said April. ‘I dunno, it just all seems so - no disrespect to you, honey - but all this seems so silly. I really wish I could spend my days worrying about Neil and Miranda, but that’s not where I’m at right now.’
‘I know, you’re making a new life down here,’ said Fiona.
‘No, it’s not the place. It’s all the weird stuff happening to me.’
‘Those photos of the party?’
April shook her head. ‘That’s only part of it. None of it is much on its own, but when you add it to the Isabelle Davis murder and Milo being in hospital and then the whole Gabriel mess, and the police and now this vampire book thing, I don’t know what to do.’
‘Hang on,’ said Fiona, frowning, ‘rewind a bit. In fact, rewind a lot. The Milo in hospital - that’s the one from the party? What’s he doing in hospital? After that, we’ll get to Gabriel and the vampires. Now, spill.’
April smiled. She had been so used to sharing every thought and experience with Fiona, yet since she had been in London so much had happened, and she had got out of the habit. Now she thought about it, they hadn’t had a proper talk since a couple of days after the party and turning her phone off over the last week had left her friend completely out of the loop. So she made up for lost time, filling Fee in on everything: the fight with Layla, the Met-sponsored visit to the pub and the whole Gabriel story, including her growing suspicions, and ending with finding her dad’s notebook in the desk and her visit to Mr Gill.
‘Wow, let’s have a look at the notebook,’ said Fiona eagerly. April slid it out from under her mattress. She had been through it in detail and, although much of it was just a scrawl, it seemed that most of the entries were about two subjects: firstly, various ‘real’ sightings of vampires in Highgate, particularly in the sixties and seventies, and - and this was the exciting part - William’s investigations into Ravenwood School. One particular entry had set her heart thumping: ‘Regent = Ravenwood? Close.’
‘The Vampire Regent’ was the subject of one of the chapters in the book Mr Gill had shown her yesterday evening. The old man had clearly missed his calling; he would have made a brilliant teacher. He had told her how the book described the three vampire nests in London - Highgate, Covent Garden and Spitalfields - and how they were all ruled over by one all-powerful super-vampire known as the Vampire Regent. Mr Gill had emphasised that it was only a myth and that it was possible the author was under the influence of gin or syphilis or both, but he seemed convinced by the idea himself and, anyway, the fact that her father had been taking it seriously was enough for April. She still didn’t know if her dad had actually read the Kingsley-Davis book, but he certainly seemed to know a lot about its contents: the Regent, the nests and the Highgate connection.
‘So when he says “close”, do you think he means that this Vampire Regent - assuming he exists - is close by? Like in Highgate?’ asked Fiona.
‘I’ve been wondering about that,’ said April. ‘Either that, or he felt he was getting close to uncovering the Regent’s identity.’
Fiona flicked through a few more pages. ‘What does this one mean: “Altar in C.F.WDS”?’
April shook her head. ‘I wish I knew. The problem is he was making notes for himself - it wasn’t meant for anyone else to read.’
‘He hid it though, didn’t he? So he must have thought what was in here was important and that it could lead to the people with the answers.’
‘That’s why I want to find out more about the school. He obviously thought whoever’s behind Ravenwood is connected to the Regent. Maybe it was Ravenwood that wanted him out of the way.’
‘So why did he send you there?’ asked Fiona. ‘I mean, if he really thought it was full of vampires?’
April nodded. It was something she had been struggling with too. It was one thing bringing his family to a dangerous area; it was another to send your only child to an establishment you thought might be run by bloodsucking freaks. Which was the strongest reason April had for thinking that her father couldn’t have believed they were real.
‘But whether this vampire stuff is rubbish or not - and it does sound unlikely - you can’t really think Gabriel killed your dad, can you?’ asked Fiona, lowering her voice. ‘I mean, the way you were talking about him, I was expecting you to - you know - shag him, not shop him to the cops.’
April shook her head. ‘Maybe I was wrong about him, Fee. I usually am about boys.’
Fiona made a face. ‘Well, you sure can pick ’em.’
‘What do you mean?’ said April, offended at the implication.
‘Well, remember that I’m your best friend and everything, so don’t shoot the messenger, but you do have a habit of picking the most unattainable boys and then imagining a romance that might not actually be there.’
‘You mean Neil.’
‘Yes, Neil. But there was David Brody before that, and Baz from the market, remember? You were planning the wedding before you’d even had a text from him.’
April cringed. It was true.
Maybe I have some sort of deep psychological need to be rejected, she thought. Maybe I deliberately pick boys who mess me around. But I’ve never picked a potential serial killer before.
‘But don’t you think it makes sense about Gabriel?’ she asked.
‘It’s a bit far-fetched, honey,’ said Fiona. ‘Yes, it’s odd that he was there the night of Isabelle Wotsit’s murder, but that doesn’t make him the murderer, does it? And the idea that he’s been planning to trap you in the cemetery in order to strangle you is a bit gothic, even by your standards. Maybe this one actually does want to shag you, ever think of that?’
April threw a pillow at her, but Fee’s opinion did make her feel a little better. It was true she didn’t have any actual evidence against Gabriel apart from supposition and guess-work. After all, he had told her there were things he couldn’t explain, he
had
told her he wasn’t going to tell her everything. And she had got it wrong about Gabriel and Layla, hadn’t she? April felt a sudden flutter in her tummy, but she tried to push the feelings away. Okay, so she didn’t have any actual CCTV footage or anything, but there was too much coincidence, too many things linking him to Isabelle, to her dad, to
everything
. He
had
to be involved.
Fiona saw the faraway look in her eyes. ‘Okay, Miss Heart-break, back to the vampire book,’ said Fiona with a smirk.
‘Well, apparently this author, Jonathan Kingsley-Davis, was like the Victorian equivalent of my dad,’ said April, ‘and he spent years investigating some dodgy goings-on in the East End.’
‘Jack the Ripper, you mean?’
‘Him, and a bunch of other stuff. Apparently, grisly murders weren’t all that unusual back then. Anyway, this guy claimed it was all down to vampires. And not just any random vamps running around biting people, they were organised into what he called “nests”. There were three “nests” in London - Covent Garden, the East End and Highgate - all ruled over by a Vampire Regent; he gives the orders, chooses the new recruits.’