For Your Own Protection(8)

Alex had been killed just over two weeks ago in what the police described as ‘an apparent hit and run incident’. Two officers had knocked at the door, faces serious, to deliver the grim news: he’d been found lying dead on the road, just a few minutes from their home.

Rachel, utterly devastated, knew her life had been changed forever.

The funeral itself had been a blur. She remembered arriving at the church just outside the centre of the city; she remembered seeing the hearse pull up, with the light brown coffin in the back; and she remembered watching as the coffin was heaved on to the shoulders of family members clad in black. Events inside the church were harder to recollect: there had been the music, deliberately upbeat but still haunting; the readings by Alex’s father and brother; and the eulogy. She’d wondered beforehand if she’d have the strength to look at the coffin, but once it was there, she couldn’t take her eyes off it. Her eyes traced the grain of the oak panels around the gold handles they’d be using to lower it into the freshly dug grave. On several occasions, Rachel thought she saw the lid move slightly, minutely. Her heart had literally missed a beat, but the lid remained firmly closed. She had watched the coffin up until the point when it disappeared into the ground. Then, forcing herself to turn and walk away, she had headed straight for the car park. She hadn’t looked back.

Rachel glanced around self-consciously, meeting the now-embarrassed stares. The watching guests returned to their protective huddles and resumed their polite, if uncomfortable, conversations. She’d hardly spoken to anyone in the thirty minutes she’d been here, and hadn’t touched any of the food laid out so impressively in the front room. It must have taken Hilary hours to prepare.

‘Rachel, how are you?’

She turned and smiled as Hilary approached, squeezing herself through the crowds of smartly and darkly dressed mourners.

‘Not hungry?’ Hilary said. Rachel had to admire her strength: she was putting on a brave face, but the strain behind her blue eyes betrayed her inner torment.

Rachel shook her head. ‘I can’t eat,’ she said. ‘I just feel sick.’

‘Me too,’ Hilary said, looking across to the food. ‘To tell you the truth, I haven’t touched so much as a crumb.’

Rachel smiled faintly.

‘At least it gave me something to do,’ Hilary said, exhaling. ‘And at least some people are enjoying it.’ She looked over at a large man whose plate was piled high with food, and for a moment Rachel sensed she and Hilary were wondering the same thing: Have people forgotten Alex already?

‘I’ll never forget him,’ Rachel said, as Hilary turned back towards her.

Hilary’s face had dropped its defences and her muscles had sagged, revealing a woman in mourning. ‘Thank you, Rachel,’ she said, squeezing her hand gently. ‘I know how much you meant to Alex.’

What Hilary didn’t know is that just four days before his death, Alex had proved his love for her by proposing. Rachel had accepted without hesitation. She knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. Somehow, she had sensed it from their very first meeting in a West End pub, just two years ago. Now, though, the opportunity of a life with Alex had been ripped away from her, and it was hurting like a raw, open wound.

‘Have you spoken with your parents recently?’ Hilary said, regaining some of her earlier composure.

Rachel was thinking of happier times. ‘Pardon?’

‘Your parents, have you spoken with them much? It must be hard to deal with this, being so far from home.’

Rachel nodded. It was difficult. Except for her work friends, she was alone. Her parents were back in her home city of San Francisco, along with her long-time girlfriends. Three years ago, her employer, the marketing company VisiON, had offered her a transfer to the new European HQ in London. She had instinctively backed away from the move: she loved her family, and America, and was unsure about whether life in England would suit her. But it was a fantastic opportunity, and one she decided to accept. Rachel soon grew to love her new life. Now Alex was dead, however, the pull of home was strengthening with each passing day.

‘I spoke with them last night,’ Rachel said. ‘They want me to come home, at least for a few months. But I’m not so sure.’

‘Whatever you think is best, Rachel,’ Hilary said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

‘I’ll be fine, Mrs McKenzie, honestly.’

‘Call me Hilary,’ she said. ‘I do think of you as one of the family . . .’

She trailed off, and Rachel wondered whether she was thinking about what might have been: all those avenues that were now closed off because of that fateful night. Hilary might not have known about Alex’s proposal, but she must have imagined Rachel as her future daughter-in-law.

‘Thank you.’

‘And do pop by anytime,’ Hilary continued, delicately dabbing a tear in the corner of her eye. ‘I’m sure Alex would have wanted us to keep in touch.’

Hilary looked expectant, and Rachel nodded.

‘It’s good to see so many of Alex’s friends here,’ Hilary said, taking a sip of white wine from the glass cradled in her hand. Rachel noticed it was shaking as she brought it to her lips.

‘Yes, Alex had a lot of friends,’ Rachel said.

The funeral was packed. But she’d noted one significant absence: Michael Thornbury. Michael had been a close work colleague and friend of Alex’s for years. She and Alex had often socialised with Michael and his long-term girlfriend, Annabelle, and had even taken holidays together as a foursome. But not only had Michael been out of contact since Alex’s death, he then hadn’t turned up for his friend’s funeral.