‘Why do you want to get me on my own?’ she asked, a wobble in her voice. ‘So you can do to me what you did to my dad?’
Gabriel shook his head, looking hurt and confused. ‘I really don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said. ‘Do you think I had something to do with his death?’
‘You know I do.’
‘But that’s ridiculous. Why would you think that?’
‘Okay, so tell me - what were you doing in the cemetery the night Isabelle was killed? Where were you the night before, when Alix Graves was murdered?’
Gabriel looked down at the floor. ‘I’ve told you, April, there are some things I can’t ...’ he began, then trailed off.
‘What? You can’t tell me because I wouldn’t understand? Or because then you’d have to tell me what you’ve done?’
He took her arms and stared into her eyes. ‘I haven’t done anything,’ he said.
‘Really? Then tell me what’s going on! What is this big secret?’
‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’
‘Well, try me!’ she shouted. ‘I’ve just buried my father. The least you can do is tell me what you know about it. Who killed him?’
Gabriel shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, but there was an evasive look in his eyes.
‘But you know something, Gabriel - tell me!’
‘I can’t!’ he roared at her.
‘Well leave me alone, then!’ she shouted back, shaking off his hands, and began stalking towards the house. Gabriel jumped up and blocked her way.
‘Let me past,’ she said.
‘Not until you talk to me.’
‘No,’ she said, trying to sidestep him, suddenly remembering what Fiona had said about confronting murderers.
‘April, please!’ he said, anger flaring in his eyes. ‘You’re being stupid.’
‘Why, because I’ve guessed your secret?’ she said, trying to sound more sure of herself than she felt. ‘Because I know you’re a killer?’
‘Because you’re just putting yourself in more danger!’ he cried.
Now April was starting to feel frightened. What danger? Danger of staying here with him? Gabriel was between her and the house. She looked past him at the bright yellow door; it was closed.
Why is no one watching?
She tried to push past him again, but Gabriel spread his arms out to stop her.
‘Let me explain,’ he said, stepping towards her.
At that moment, she heard a bus whoosh past and, impulsively, she turned and ran.
‘April, stop!’ he called after her. ‘Where are you going?’
Away from you,
she thought, but she was running too hard to reply. She ran across the square towards the church, not looking back.
‘Come back!’ he yelled, but she didn’t stop.
The red bus was pulling into the stop outside the Flask pub and she sprinted for it, jumping aboard as the doors swished shut.
‘You in a hurry or somethin’, love?’ said the driver genially.
‘Yes, I’m escaping from a serial killer,’ panted April.
The driver laughed and pulled away from the kerb. April watched as Gabriel skidded to a halt by the bus stop and stared after them.
‘Where to, then?’
‘Uh, sorry?’
‘Where you going?’
April dug in the pocket of her coat and pulled out a handful of change.
‘Anywhere but here.’
Once it had left Highgate and passed through Kentish Town and Camden, the bus slowed to a crawl, the rush-hour traffic in and out of London forcing them to stop and wait for a jam to clear every two minutes. Now she was sure Gabriel was a long way behind her, April relaxed for the first time that day. She had a window seat on the top deck and she was watching the city drift by, almost able to enjoy all the lights and decorations; the shops looked inviting and interesting and the people looked more glamorous than usual too, wrapped up in their overcoats and scarves, many of them carrying intriguingly shaped parcels, no doubt counting down the shopping days to Christmas. April felt something on her face and put up her hand; she was surprised to feel a tear.
God, I’m going to have to stop doing this,
she thought.
I can’t keep crying at everything
. But it was hard to stop sometimes. This would be her first Christmas without her dad and - she knew this was silly - it would be his first Christmas without them.
I’m crying because I think my dad will be lonely up in heaven?
she scolded herself.
Get a grip.
Then again, if you couldn’t cry on the day of your father’s funeral, when could you? The thought of the funeral gave her a stab of guilt. She really shouldn’t have left her mother like that, she would be worried.
Assuming she’s not passed out already, of course,
she thought with a faint smile. She felt bad about leaving Fiona on her own too, after she had come all this way, but she knew Caro would take care of her. She just hoped Davina didn’t get her claws too deeply into her friends while she was gone.
She felt around in her pocket. Thank God! Her phone was still there. She quickly texted Fiona.
Sorry, had to get away. Make excuse to Mum for me? Call later. xx
But the truth was, she felt better being on this bus, away from the wake and all those people - well meaning though they were - muttering their condolences. It was all so false, so tacky. She had been suffocating. And she was glad she had got away from Gabriel. The truth was he had frightened her. The look on his face when she had asked who had killed her dad was guilt, she was sure of it. And even if it wasn’t, he hadn’t denied it when she had accused him of being a killer. The bottom line was that he was keeping something from her. Too many people were doing that these days. Her mother, her grandfather, Gabriel, maybe even her father, if Silvia’s outburst was to be believed. Why did they think she couldn’t handle it? She wasn’t some little kid any more. They were happy to lecture you about sex and drugs, but thought you were incapable of handling the boring details of their screwed-up adult lives. Well, if Gabriel wanted to play that way, April could play too. She would call Detective Inspector Reece and tell him what she had seen that night. Everything. She picked up her phone and scrolled through the numbers. There it was: DI Reece. She pressed the ‘send’ button.
Calling ...
But then she suddenly stabbed the red ‘cancel’ button. What exactly would she say? ‘Hello, Detective Inspector Reece. Hey, you know how I told you on two separate occasions that I didn’t see anyone that night at the cemetery? Well, now I’ve changed my mind - the killer is my sort-of boyfriend.’
April smiled at the idea and imagined the policeman’s response.
‘So why are you telling me this now?’
‘Um, because I’ve just had a public fight with him? Does that sound convincing?’
April had to admit it wouldn’t have much credibility, and as Fiona had said, she really didn’t
know
Gabriel was involved. There was just something wrong about the whole situation. The murders, the school, the way everyone acted around her, it was just, well,
weird
. Hopping off the bus at Kings Cross, she ran down the escalator and squeezed onto the packed Tube, riding shoved up against a pushchair along the Piccadilly line. She jumped off at Covent Garden and instantly felt better. Covent Garden was April’s favourite station. She loved the old-fashioned green walls and the rickety lifts, the way they propelled you straight out into the middle of the hustle and chatter of central London. It almost felt like a conjuring trick. April had always looked forward to that part of the journey when her mum used to bring her here on shopping trips as a girl. But now, now she was on her own, and April felt human for the first time since the heavy iron door had closed on her dad’s coffin earlier that afternoon. No one telling her what to do, no one looking at her with curiosity or pity, no one refusing to explain anything, she was just another body being swept along with the crowd. Somehow the lights seemed brighter and the smells sweeter here; she remembered her mum saying something about the metropolis having an energy all of its own. She agreed with her about that at least.
Drifting down past the Opera House and skirting around the busy market, she saw her favourite patisserie and walked over. She loved peering through the window at the marvellous cakes and pastry confections; it was April’s version of Audrey Hepburn gazing at the jewels in Tiffany’s. She jingled the coins in her pocket, wishing she had enough for a hot chocolate, her fingers pressed against the cold glass.
‘I knew I’d find you here.’
April whirled around, her mouth open. It was Gabriel. He had found her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
She pressed back against the window, her eyes darting around like a trapped rabbit’s. Gabriel saw her expression and stepped forward.
‘Hey, April, it’s okay, don’t be frightened,’ he said, his hands outstretched. But April was already moving. She turned and ran, banging into a lady carrying a takeaway coffee which exploded on the floor in a spray of milk and foam.
‘Hey!’ shouted the woman angrily, but April couldn’t hear anything except the wind rushing past her ears. She glanced behind and could see him following her. No! She pulled up her dress and her feet pounded the pavement, once again glad of her flat shoes, and she swerved to avoid tourists and shoppers. She dashed across a road, barely missing a black cab, and plunged into a narrow alleyway.
How close is he?
she wondered, not daring to look back. Little shops with cute Dickensian bow windows whirled through her vision as she looked for an exit. She skidded to a halt just as a bus whooshed past her nose in a red blur.
Left or right, left or right?
her brain screamed.
‘April! Stop!’ Gabriel’s voice was close behind her.
Too close.
She went right, sprinting up the street, veering across and into another alley, hoping to lose Gabriel in the tangle of tiny streets. She plunged through a dark opening and along a narrow lane, no more than a pathway really, which hooked right and back onto the road. Where now? She followed the tide of people flowing downhill - where there were people there was safety, right?
She ran out into the road amid blaring horns and dazzling headlights. But then she was on the other side and to her right was the wide-open space of Trafalgar Square. It was teeming with tourists and pigeons, but it was too open, too exposed for safety. Besides, she had to stop, her legs, her lungs wouldn’t take any more. She hurried as best she could up some wide white steps to her left and hid behind a pillar. It was a church, or a courthouse or something equally grand, but all April cared about was that she couldn’t be seen. She slumped against the stone, gulping in air and trying to calm herself down. She ducked her head out and stared back the way she had come, scanning the crowd, looking for Gabriel in hot pursuit.
Maybe I’ve lost him, maybe he gave up,
she thought.
But no, there he was, walking casually towards her as if nothing had happened.
How did he get here so fast?
‘April, I’m sorry if I scared you back there. I didn’t mean to freak you out, I just want to talk,’ he said, both hands held out, palms down, as if he was trying to calm a skittish animal. ‘Don’t run, please.’
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see some tourists coming down the steps from the church, cameras in hands. So she screamed. A long high-pitched Hammer Horror-style scream. Every head within earshot turned in her direction and April took full advantage of it, quickly backing away from Gabriel, shouting, ‘Help! Help me! He stole my purse and now he’s trying to get my phone!’ She waved her mobile to underline the truth of the claim.
A middle-aged fat man in a puffer jacket stepped between April and Gabriel.
‘Hey, buddy,’ he called in a gruff New York accent. ‘You bothering this lady?’
‘She’s my girlfriend,’ said Gabriel, not taking his eyes from April.
‘I am not!’ cried April.
‘Hey, pal, why don’t you give her some space, huh?’ said the New Yorker. ‘I don’t think she wants you around right now.’
‘Yeah, leave her alone!’ shouted a black lady.