Chapter 46

Anthony's funeral was a week later, on 11 January. There was a very small crowd in attendance. Dawn and Rita and a few of Anthony's neighbours. Five people standing around the open grave in Blaydon Cemetery as he was lowered into the ground to join his wife. Dawn had cried throughout the service and as she followed the coffin on its journey to the grave.

It was a cold morning. The sky was dull, and there was a stiff breeze blowing. When prompted, Dawn stepped forwards, picked up a handful of earth and threw it onto the coffin. Her mother did the same.

‘It was a beautiful service,' the woman who lived next door to Anthony said, as she approached Dawn and shook her hand.

‘Not many came.'

‘No. But it's not the number of people that matters – it's what those few meant to him. He spoke of you often. He was incredibly proud of you.'

‘Thank you.' Dawn smiled through the tears. ‘It was lovely of you to come.'

‘It was my pleasure. You take care now,' she said, patting Dawn's hand. ‘You know where I am if you want to call in for a chat.'

Dawn smiled, said goodbye and linked arms with her mum. As they headed down the incline, Dawn stopped in her tracks when she saw a woman in black approaching her.

‘I didn't want to come to the church. I wasn't sure if I'd be welcome,' the woman said. ‘How are you?'

‘I'm getting there,' Dawn replied. ‘Mum, this is Mrs White. Barbara. Stephanie's mum.'

‘Oh,' was all Rita could say. ‘Nice to meet you.'

‘Likewise.'

‘I read about Anthony dying in the local paper last week. It must have been a blow to you, only just getting to know him after all this time.'

‘He'd been ill for some time. It was his way of taking back what little control he had.'

‘It takes a brave man to do that,' Barbara said. She shivered as a cold wind buffeted them.

The three women remained silent. Dawn and Barbara didn't break eye contact.

‘If you ever want to talk, you know where I am,' Barbara said.

‘Thank you. How are things with you and Mr… Harry?'

‘We're fine. Plodding along as usual. One day at a time.' Her smile looked painful. ‘Well, I'll not intrude. You're a strong woman, Dawn.'

‘I don't feel like I am at the moment,' Dawn said, with a hint of a chuckle.

‘No. These things take time. But you are. You've been through the mill this last year, but things'll calm down now. I'm sure of it.'

‘I hope so.'

Barbara stepped forwards. She tentatively held out a hand for Dawn to shake. It was an awkward gesture. Their handshake was stilted, but the smiles were warm and genuine.

‘Put the past behind you, Dawn. You're only young. You've got your whole life ahead of you. Grab it by the horns and be the best person you can be.' A tear rolled down her cheek, and she didn't wipe it away.

Before Dawn could say anything, Barbara turned on her heel and headed down the path towards the gates.

‘So that was Stephanie's mum,' Rita said, as they watched her walk away.

‘Yes.'

‘I remember her from when you were at school. She was your favourite teacher.'

‘She still is.' Dawn smiled.

‘What was all that about? Be the best you can be?'

‘I don't know. She probably wants me to do all the things her daughter was unable to do, all the things she's been unable to do. She's been living in the past for twenty years. Just like Grandad was. It's not healthy.'

‘No,' Rita said, turning towards the exit. ‘Come on, let's go. I'm perished.'

Parked a few metres away from the gates of Blaydon Cemetery, Terry hunkered down behind the wheel of his Astra when he saw Barbara White enter. She was dressed in funereal black and had a sombre look on her face. There was only one place she could have been going dressed like that, and that was Anthony's funeral. But why? It wasn't long before she came back out. She passed his car and wiped away a tear. She hadn't been there long enough to watch the burial service. At first, he wondered if she hadn't realised it was Anthony's funeral today – maybe she had been intending to visit Stephanie's grave, saw the service and decided to leave. But she wouldn't wear all black clothing to visit Stephanie, she never did. Why would she want to witness the funeral of the father of the man who murdered her daughter?

A few minutes later, Dawn and Rita left the cemetery. They wore grim expressions as they headed for Dawn's car.

Anthony's will hadn't been read yet, but Terry knew the solicitor and had asked for a sneak preview. Dated six months ago, Anthony had left everything to Dawn. His house and its contents, his shares in various companies and money from several savings accounts totalling more than fifty thousand pounds had all been bequeathed to the granddaughter he had known for less than a year. The granddaughter who had conveniently discovered his body a few days after finding the body of her murdered father. Add on the money she would inherit from her father, and Dawn was going to be a very rich twenty-two-year-old.

Terry watched them drive away. They headed in the direction of Ryton, where Rita lived. He couldn't help but think he was watching a murderer drive away. If only he had the evidence to prove it.