Chapter 28

TWENTY-EIGHT

There can be no lonelier way to travel than in the hearse behind your daughter's coffin.

Sally reached for Joanna's hand and held it tight, but all Joanna could think about was the car in front. Inside that car, behind the vibrant displays of flowers, inside that wooden box, lay the girl who had held her heart and carried it out into the world for the last two decades.

She didn't turn her head when she spoke to Sally. ‘This is so hard.'

Sally squeezed her hand even tighter, bringing the other hand to surround it. ‘I know. In an hour it will be over. We'll get through it together.'

Not for the first time, she thanked God for Sally. How she would've planned this funeral, invited these people, even sat in this car without her, she didn't know. Even the people at Brands Funeral home – the same people who had managed Steve's funeral a year ago – had been shocked to see her back so soon. They hid it well, of course, but she could feel the extra sympathy in the insistence that they would provide an extra car for Charlotte's best friends at no additional cost.

It wasn't until the car pulled up at the crematorium that Joanna realised how many people would come. Every direction she looked in, there was a sea of tearful, sombre faces. School friends, university friends, neighbours, family. They parted to let her and Sally through. As she held Joanna's elbow and guided her towards the large wooden door, Sally smiled and nodded at people, thanked them for coming. Joanna could not.

Though the chapel was the largest of the three, the thick sand-coloured carpet and oatmeal upholstered chairs softened any sound except the background music that Sally had asked Charlotte's friends to choose. In the front row, Sally kept hold of Joanna's hand as people filed in quietly. Once the rows were filled, people came down the sides. The room was packed. Sally glanced behind her and then leaned close in to Joanna. ‘It's so full. Some people are going to have to listen from outside.'

Charlotte was so loved. This proved it and it warmed her a little to know that all of these people were here because they wanted to say goodbye. She managed a watery smile and nodded her thanks. ‘Where is he?'

Sally looked around again, a little longer this time, before she spoke. ‘They've just slipped in at the back. Him and two police officers. But don't think about him. He's nothing today. Let's just say goodbye to our girl.'

It didn't matter how long she'd had to try and prepare herself, the day Steve passed away had still been an almighty shock. For the two weeks prior, the nurses had talked about him going into a hospice but none of them had wanted that. The first few weeks after Steve had passed away were absolute agony.

Charlotte had been incredible. Joanna had leaned on her more than she should've done. Charlotte had been the one who'd shopped for their food and made most of their meals. After Freddie's appearance at the funeral, she hadn't mentioned him again. In fact, it wasn't until a month later that she'd realised that she'd been seeing him the whole time.

Charlotte had gone to the supermarket and, for the first time since Steve had gone, Joanna had felt a little parting of the fog she'd been living in. She'd decided to make lunch and surprise Charlotte with it when she got home. Macaroni cheese.

In the kitchen, she'd found her car keys on the counter. The supermarket was a good ten minutes' drive away. Surely Charlotte wouldn't have walked? She'd looked out of the front window. Sure enough, there was her car on the drive. Just as she'd been about to turn away, a car had pulled up at the end of the garden. She'd peered closer. Long enough to see Charlotte kiss Freddie goodbye.

She'd pulled back from the window as if she'd been burned and hurried to the kitchen before Charlotte came through the door.

‘Mum? I'm home.'

‘Through here.'

Charlotte had plonked two bags of shopping in front of the fridge freezer. ‘Sorry I was ages. Tesco was packed.'

She hadn't met Joanna's eyes. She hadn't changed from when she was little. Steve had told her that your eyes changed colour when you told fibs and they could always tell from that point on if she'd been bending the truth. Not that it happened often. Joanna had tried to keep her voice light. ‘How come you didn't take the car?'

Charlotte had said nothing for a few beats, then had responded slowly as if she was gauging the weight of each word. ‘I got a lift there and back.'

‘Really? Who with?'

Again, the pause. ‘With Freddie.'

‘Are you seeing him again?'

Charlotte had leaned against the counter. ‘I know what you think of him, Mum. Which is why I haven't said anything. But he's been really sweet. He lost his dad, too. When he was a lot younger. He gets how I feel. And, yes, I'm seeing him again.'

She hadn't trusted herself to talk about it right then. Knew that she'd say something wrong, and the last thing either of them needed was to fall out. So she'd held her tongue, hoped it would run its course. What a fool she'd been.

Knowing that Joanna wouldn't be able to do it, Sally had offered to write and read a eulogy for Charlotte. When she stood to deliver it, Rachael and Lucy shifted their seats so that they were sitting either side of Joanna.

Sally coughed, swallowed, and then she began.

‘For those of you who don't know me, I've had the absolute honour of being Charlotte's godmother. I had a front row seat to watch her grow from a cherub of a child to a beautiful strong woman.'

Joanna pressed her hand to her heart and the two girls either side of her moved in closer. Sally looked straight at her as she delivered the next line. ‘When she was very young, her dad Steve coined the line from A Midsummer Night's Dream to describe her. "Though she be but little she is fierce."'

Joanna smiled back at her. Every time he said it, she would frown at him for excusing whatever it was that Charlotte had done to drive her crazy. How lovely it was that Sally had remembered that too.

Now Sally looked past Joanna and at the congregation. ‘And fierce she was. Even when she was very young, she had an irrepressible spirit. I remember once Joanna put her on the naughty step for something she'd done and, far from being upset about this, Charlotte decided it would be the perfect stage from which to entertain us with her full repertoire of nursery rhymes.'

A ripple of soft laughter moved around Joanna, and her heart warmed at the memory of her cheeky little girl.

Sally had her hand pressed to her chest as if it was getting harder to speak. ‘But she loved fiercely too. She had the biggest heart. I've lost count of the times I've see her rescue a baby bird from the garden when a cuckoo had pushed it from its nest. Or wait patiently for a ladybird to crawl onto her finger from the windowsill so that she could let it outside.

‘And she was the most loyal and fierce defender of those she loved. She has always been a wonderful friend to my son, Harry, and he has always adored her. Everyone who knew her adored her.'

Joanna tried not to think of her last conversation with Charlotte. When she'd defended Freddie. Tried to make her believe that he was someone to be trusted. Her poor loyal girl.

There was a long pause from the lectern as Sally clearly needed time to compose herself. But she held on to her papers and swept her eyes across the room at all the people who had come to pay their respects. ‘Charlotte will leave a huge gap in many of our lives. I hope that we will remember and honour her by trying to be like her. To be fierce, to be brave and to love.'

She turned toward the coffin. ‘Sleep tight, my darling girl.'

Sally's words were perfect. Capturing the essence of Charlotte. Her spark, her hatred of injustice, her passion for friendship and life. For a few moments, she was back in this room with them. How could a life so vibrant be extinguished so easily?

Lucy moved to make room for Sally next to Joanna. Joanna rested her head on Sally's shoulder and whispered, ‘Thank you.'

Then came the moment Joanna had been dreading all morning. As the curtains closed around the coffin, she had to grip tightly to her chair with her free hand. Don't go. She wanted to call out. Don't leave.

After the service, she stood at the exit with Sally's hand on her back as people filed through and passed on their sorrow at her loss. So many young girls with faces red and tear-stained. For many, this might be the first loss of someone close that they'd experienced. How cruel it was that they had to learn so soon the fragility of life.

She'd taken one of Charlotte's friends in her arms to console her, when she spotted him. Diplomatically, the escorting officers hadn't brought him past her. They must have exited the building from the entrance – but they stood apart from the crowd. Only Annabelle stood with him and she could see that he was crying.

From somewhere deep inside, a hot rage burned her stomach like she'd never experienced before. As she stepped towards him, Sally caught her arm. ‘Ignore him. Let's go back to the house.'

He was a lot thinner than she'd remembered, his skin pale and his dark hair cut much shorter. Gone was the easy stance: he looked broken. There'd be no sympathy from her though. When he looked up and caught her eye, the pain in his face was like petrol on the fire inside her. She gritted her teeth. ‘I want to tell him what he's done.'

She was three steps away from him when Annabelle turned to face her. ‘Joanna. It was a beautiful service.'

She nodded her thanks, but her eyes were fixed on him. ‘Your expensive lawyer made sure you got your own way, then?'

Annabelle took a step between them. ‘I don't think you need to?—'

‘It's okay, Mum. I wanted to speak to you, Joanna. I've been asking to get a message to you. Mum had a letter to bring but…I need you to know that I didn't do it.' His face creased in pain and he slumped down even further into his hips. ‘I loved Charlotte. She was my absolute world. I miss her so much.'

Joanna clutched her hands together to stop them from trembling. ‘I don't know how you can stand there and say that.'

‘Please give me a chance to explain. To make you understand that I wouldn't have done this.'

Her whole body recoiled. ‘How can I trust you? My own daughter was keeping secrets from me. Was it you who told her not to tell me about the baby?'

It was the only reason she could think of. The only rational explanation.

Freddie looked pleadingly at the guard, tears running down his face. ‘Please. Can I have some time to speak with her? In private?'

The guards looked at one another. The elder one nodded. ‘Alright. You can talk in the waiting room. But I can't take off your cuff. Which means I'll have to come with you.'

‘And me.' Annabelle pushed herself forwards.

‘No.' The other guard shook his head. ‘You'll have to wait outside with me, I'm afraid.'

Annabelle looked as if she were about to object, but Freddie shook his head. ‘It's fine, Mum. Honestly.'

She folded her arms. ‘Well, I'll be right outside, my darling.' She turned defiantly to Joanna. ‘You need to listen to him. He'll tell you the truth.'

People were looking over now; Joanna could see them wondering what was happening. Much as she wanted to tell him to go to hell, there was a part of her that wanted to hear what he had to say. She knew from the police that their enquiries hadn't turned up any new information. Was there something he might let slip that she could use against him?

‘Okay. I'll listen. But that doesn't mean I'm about to believe a word you say.'