Chapter 44

Dawn had asked for compassionate leave from Schofield and Embleton. In the past year, she had impressed them with her skills and had established herself as an invaluable member of the team. She had soon advanced from a glorified office junior to helping out with cases as a proper paralegal. She conducted research and often accompanied solicitors in court. She was loving her work, and it pained her to have to take time off, but following the death of her father, the murder of the father she had known for less than a year, it was understandable.

She woke up and for the briefest of moments, everything was right with the world. Then reality dawned. She threw back the duvet and almost fell out of bed. The energy seemed to have been drained out of her. She was cold. Bloody heating. She wrapped her dressing gown around her and went over to the window. Pulling open the curtains, she looked out at the dark, grey, uninspiring view. Another freezing cold day.

Dawn sat back down on the bed and looked at her reflection in the mirror above her dressing table. She looked old, somehow, dark lines beneath her eyes, downturned mouth and a sallow complexion. She shivered, padded into the bathroom and turned the shower on to as hot as she could stand it.

Sitting in front of the mirror again, her hair washed and tied back in a neat ponytail, she applied a little make-up. Her appearance was important to her, and she wanted people to see her as a happy, positive person. She had trained herself to walk down the street with her head high and shoulders back, to ooze a confidence she didn't necessarily feel. However, it was imperative, in her line of work, to project an image people could admire, respect and trust. This morning, she felt more of a fraud than ever.

She ignored breakfast. Usually, as per the new diet, it was a strong black coffee, a slice of granary toast and whatever was overflowing from the fruit bowl. This morning, she couldn't face anything. She put on her coat, snatched up her bag and car keys and left the flat.

‘Dawn, are you all right?' Robyn was coming out of her flat next door as Dawn was leaving. ‘I've been texting you, and you haven't replied. I knocked on your door for ages last night, and you didn't answer.'

‘I'm so sorry, Rob, I've not felt up to talking. I actually fell asleep early last night. I was just so drained.'

‘Understandable. Do you want to come in for a chat?'

‘No thanks. I'm going over to see my grandfather.'

‘How's he taking it?'

‘I'm not sure, to be honest.'

‘Listen,' she said, stepping closer and lowering her voice despite there being nobody else in the foyer with them. ‘I had the police round yesterday asking if I could confirm what times we were together on New Year's Eve. They really went into detail. I felt like I was being interrogated. They don't suspect you of having anything to do with your dad's death, do they?'

Dawn gave a weak smile. ‘No. It's just that I found the body, and the police are incredibly suspicious of whoever finds the victim. They're just double-checking everything. You know what us solicitors are like when we get a detective on the witness stand – we do everything we can to pull them apart.' She grinned.

‘So you're not a suspect?'

‘No.'

‘Oh good,' she said, hand firmly on her chest. ‘I was beginning to think I was going to have to look for a new chief bridesmaid.' She laughed nervously. ‘Are you eating?'

‘Yes, I am.'

‘Good. I know you're on a healthy-eating kick at the moment but try not to lose too much weight before my wedding. I don't want you looking sexier than me.' She grinned. ‘Listen, do you fancy coming around tonight for a few drinks?'

‘I'm still not over the last drinking session,' Dawn said.

‘I know. We went a bit mad, didn't we?'

‘A bit? How's Chris? Isn't he usually a bit of a lightweight?'

‘He's a big drama queen. He's finally come round to accepting he's just had a massive hangover and not alcohol poisoning. I think I might have "in sickness and in health" taken out of the vows, if he's going to be this much of a hypochondriac.' A car beeped from outside. ‘That's my Uber. I'd better go. I've got twin girls to measure up for christening gowns in half an hour. Look after yourself. Text me any time.' Robyn kissed Dawn on the cheek and ran out of the building, leaving her behind in the foyer.

Dawn waited until Robyn was in the Uber and it had pulled away from the kerb and driven out of sight before she left the building. It was strange how much things had changed in the last few days. Robyn was engaged and beaming with happiness at the thought of settling down, while Dawn's father had been murdered and a heavy cloud was hanging over her.

Dawn parked outside Anthony's bungalow on Langdale Close. She needed to pull herself together for him. He wasn't well, and she worried about him. The last few days had been a rollercoaster for both of them, and she would need to keep a close eye on him, at least until after the funeral.

She knocked on the door and stepped back. The kitchen curtains were drawn, but she thought nothing of it. Looking up at the grey sky, she wondered if it was ever going to brighten up today.

‘Dawn.' She turned at the sound of her name being called.

The woman next door, whose name Dawn could never remember, stood on her doorstep in sensible clothing and pink carpet slippers. She had recently celebrated her eightieth birthday – Dawn remembered seeing banners up on her front door, thanks to the efforts of the woman's grandchildren.

‘Good morning,' Dawn replied.

‘Is your grandfather all right?' she asked in a soft voice.

‘Yes. Why?' Dawn replied, concerned.

‘The press were hounding him last night. They were outside here for ages. Knocking on the door and ringing the bell. I phoned him and asked if he wanted me to call the police, but he said he was ignoring them.'

‘Oh. He didn't call me or anything.'

‘He probably went to bed early or something. I'd have been scared witless if it had been my door they were knocking on.'

Dawn was rummaging around in her bag for the key she had for emergencies. ‘I'm sure he's fine.'

‘Tell him I was asking after him.'

Dawn nodded. She unlocked the door, stepped in and closed it behind her.

‘Grandad, are you up?'

The house was in darkness. It was colder than her flat. She needlessly pressed her hand against the radiator in the hallway. The heating was off. She went into the living room and turned on the light. The curtains were drawn and the room empty.

‘Grandad? Is everything all right?'

Back in the corridor, she turned to his bedroom. The door was closed. She hoped he'd put in a pair of earplugs, gone to bed early and was having a lie-in. She placed a hand on the cold handle and leaned in to check for any noise coming from behind the door. All she heard was her own heartbeat thumping loudly.

She knocked lightly. ‘Grandad. Are you in there?'

She waited. There was no movement.

She took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

The bedroom was in full darkness thanks to the blackout curtains. She couldn't see her hand in front of her face. She fumbled on the wall for the light switch, and the room was suddenly lit up in a brilliant glow.

On the bed lay Anthony Griffiths. He was wearing the suit Dawn recognised from his wedding photograph in the living room. Next to him was Carole's wedding dress. They were lying side by side, and the cuff of the wedding dress sleeve was in Anthony's hand, as if they were holding hands.

Dawn leaned back against the wall. A tear rolled down her cheek. Her grandfather's face looked peaceful, content, and there was a slight smile on his lips. She had never seen him look so happy before.