The Widows’ Club

Since moving back home, her mum’s cockapoo had been allowed to break the house rules and sleep upstairs. He was meant to guard against April’s nightmares, but the dog’s nocturnal movements had been responsible for the dark path her mind had just taken her down.

With Dexter’s head resting on her chest, April threaded her fingers through curls of fur and sought to hold on to the silvery threads of the dream she ought to let go. She had told Jason she hated him and she had meant it. She did hate him, or at least she hated the dead Jason. He had every reason to be mad with her. She was doubting him, and she couldn’t be sure he deserved it.

Joining the group had made April look at her grief with a more critical eye, and each member had offered a different perspective. She hadn’t been sure what to make of Faith at first. She wasn’t as warm or as open as Tara, but there were times when April caught a reflection of her own grief in Faith’s eyes. The difference was that Faith didn’t try to hide the kind of fury that April could only acknowledge in her dreams.

Whether it could be called a stage of grief or not, anger was a very real part of April’s grieving process, as were the doubts she nurtured about Jason’s character. She wanted to hate him, and convincing herself that he had been unfaithful was a neat way to validate that rage. She needed to be more like Faith and be honest about that. She had audited Jason’s life and found nothing more than a handful of cash withdrawals. It was another change of behaviour that could be linked to what was going on in his brain. Doctors didn’t know everything. It was time to let go of this idea that Jason wasn’t worth breaking her heart over.

Turning onto her side, April snuggled up to Dexter, and the malleable mutt obliged by spooning with her. The soporific sound of the dog’s snoring relaxed April’s body and mind. She smiled, having finally worked out that it was Saturday and she could doze a little longer before paying a visit to the cemetery to make an overdue apology.

Taking the path around the side of the church, April filtered out the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bleat of a car horn, and concentrated only on the crunch of autumn leaves underfoot. She and Jason hadn’t been churchgoers, but his parents had wanted him buried here and it was one less decision for April to make when there had been so many others being forced upon her.

Eight months on, some decisions were yet to be made. Moving back home was meant to be a temporary arrangement and, whilst her parents were happy to keep her in the nest to rest her wings, April was no fledgling. Her so-called messiness clashed with their organised clutter, her binges on box sets were countered by daily doses of soap drama, and the rock music that got her moving in the morning chimed against the murmurings of Radio Four.

She envied her fellow group members who had a vision of what their new lives should look like, whether or not they were there yet. Even Nick had some idea of where he was going and what he wanted to achieve, and he had looked surprised and saddened when she had mentioned living with her parents. Every one of them was a survivor, while in contrast April remained a victim, trapped beneath the wreckage of a life that had collapsed around her. To escape, she had thought she needed to dismantle everything, including her marriage, but after her most recent nightmare, she realised she had gone too far.

April passed the ramshackle rows of headstones nearest the church without pausing to read the weather-worn names of the husbands and wives whose cherished memories had been eroded by time. The section of the graveyard reserved for its newest committals was hidden from view by a row of firs, but, as April approached, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.

Her pace slowed and the crunch of leaves became a whisper lost to the soughing of the evergreens. No one would hear her approach and, as she dipped beneath the shade of a tree, she tensed, preparing for that first glimpse of Jason’s imagined lover. Wisps of her dream floated through her mind until tears blurred her vision. She was looking for someone who didn’t exist.

The white marble of Jason’s headstone sparkled in the sunshine but offered no warmth as April trailed a finger across her husband’s name. She knelt down in front of the patch of earth where his cremated remains had been interred, marked by a square of marble filled with pale frosted pebbles and a spray of white lilies. On another day, April might have questioned who had left them, but not today. They could only be from his mum, who made regular visits to tend his grave, although April doubted Jason would appreciate the flowers. He would much prefer the bottle of beer she took from her pocket and placed upright in front of the headstone.

‘I don’t know if you played any part in my dream this morning,’ she whispered, ‘but you need to know that I don’t hate you. I hate that everything in my life has to be transformed into something other than us. I hate that you left me, Jay.’

April stroked the velvet petals of a lily and when her fingertip pricked on the calling card, she told herself that turning it so the writing faced her was accidental. The message was from a mother to her beloved son, as April knew it would be. The futile search for tokens left by another woman had to stop.

‘I took what we had and tried to turn it into something I’d gladly throw away. I didn’t want to think about how happy you made me,’ she said as tears slipped down her face unchecked. ‘But you did make me happy.’

April poked at the flower spray. The edges of the lilies were yellowing, and a couple had grown limp and brown. She suspected Jason’s mum would return tomorrow with a fresh spray, but April didn’t want to leave decaying flowers on his grave. Her shoulders shook as she picked out the dead blooms from the arrangement.

‘I love you, Jason and I know you loved me. Please forgive me. I’m so sorry.’

April went to cover her face with her hands, but the movement unbalanced her and she fell forward. She grabbed hold of the marble border and stared downwards past the lilies, as though she could see through the earth to the small oak box containing ash and broken dreams.

‘I miss you so much,’ she cried over and over as her tears trickled down her nose and splashed onto the thinned-out spray of bruised petals. Still sobbing, she pushed the arrangement out of the way and sank her hands into the misshapen pieces of smooth glass mixed with dead leaves and the detritus of a summer Jason had never seen. She grabbed handfuls of the pebbles and watched helplessly as they slipped through her fingers.

As one particular stone dropped, she noticed it was whiter than the rest, and when she picked it up again, it didn’t feel as cold. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she realised the pebble wasn’t glass at all. White and smooth, it appeared to be a flattened oval, but as April explored its circumference with her fingers, she noticed a dip in the centre of one of its longer edges. Turning it on its side, there was no mistaking the shape of a heart.

Squinting, April examined every millimetre of the stone. She rubbed her thumb over one side and felt a roughness that wasn’t on the other. There was a scratched engraving so faint it was difficult, but not impossible to read with the naked eye: April stared at it long enough for her tears to dry.

Her nose was blocked and her throat hurt each time she attempted to swallow back the lump of dread. This token of love had not been dropped casually, or placed gently on her husband’s grave. It had been buried out of sight. It was a gesture to be shared privately between the giver and the man whose remains lay beneath the dirt. April wasn’t meant to see it.

After months of torturing herself with guilty thoughts of betrayal, April had visited the cemetery to bury her doubts, but instead she had unearthed a secret. The warm stone burned her palm and she was tempted to hurl it across the rows of headstones and into oblivion where it belonged, but instead she dropped it into her pocket.

Her breath came out in short, shallow gasps as she fought to contain the anger and the pain. She brushed off the mud clinging to her jeans and glared at Jason’s headstone, too angry to speak. She was about to walk away when she caught sight of the bottle of beer she had left. She picked it up and in a move Jason had taught her, used the corner of the headstone and the side of her hand to knock off the bottle top. The beer tasted as bitter as her thoughts.

6

The fluffy dog sprinting across Pickering’s Pasture towards Tara looked like a Steiff teddy brought to life, with its tongue lolling and ears flapping. At the end of a rapidly extending leash was April, one arm stretched forward and the other trailing behind. Tara made the mistake of bending forward to greet the dog and he ploughed straight into her.

‘Oh Tara, I’m so sorry,’ April panted as she caught sight of the muddy paw marks smeared over her caped coat. ‘Dexter, will you sit still for one minute. I said sit!’

Dexter emitted an excited whine but otherwise ignored his mistress and continued to add streaks of ochre to the velvety blue of Tara’s coat. ‘It’s fine, it’s only second-hand,’ Tara said, choosing not to use the word vintage.

April’s cheeks burned as she pulled a bag of dog treats from her pocket. The cold breeze carried the scent, and with the next command, Dexter sat down and wriggled his bottom into the earth as he waited for his reward.

‘He doesn’t deserve this,’ April muttered as she threw a treat into the air for Dexter to catch. ‘He’s good most of the time but he only really listens to Mum.’

‘He’s unbelievably cute. Molly would be beside herself.’

‘I thought you might bring her with you.’

‘It’s half-term so she’s spending a few days at Mum’s while Lily’s visiting her grandparents in Newcastle. They’ll both be back for Halloween, but for now I’m enjoying some child-free time. And besides,’ Tara added, ‘I got the impression from your messages that you might prefer to talk without the interruptions of a squealing ten-year-old. So how are you?’

April yanked the lead to stop Dexter launching himself at Tara again and said, ‘Maybe we should start walking.’

‘OK, but let’s stay within sight of the car park for now. Faith shouldn’t be long.’

As they made their way down a sloping hill to the footpath that followed the banks of the Mersey, Tara expected April to explain what was behind her invitation to take a Sunday stroll, but instead she asked, ‘How’s the house move going?’

‘We’re on target to complete contracts by early December,’ Tara replied, rubbing her jaw. It had been aching for days and she suspected she was grinding her teeth in her sleep. ‘Six weeks and counting.’

‘I’m so happy for you,’ April said, but her voice cracked. Recovering quickly, she added, ‘Are the girls excited yet?’

‘We’re making progress of sorts. Molly made me an offer the other night that I couldn’t refuse.’

As April turned to Tara, she held up a hand to shield her face from the low sun. Dark shadows bruised her eyes. ‘Why do you make it sound like that’s a bad thing?’

‘We had a bit of a conundrum with the new house,’ Tara began. ‘Of the two bedrooms for the girls, one is a double and the other a tiny box room. Iain suggested they draw straws and when Molly won, Lily said she didn’t care, she would go and live with Joanna’s parents. The whole thing was about to degenerate into a family meltdown when Molly quietly suggested that she didn’t mind taking the smaller room if it meant Lily would stay … and if I agreed to get her a dog for Christmas.’

‘Wow, she’s some negotiator.’

‘I’ve told her I’ll only consider getting some sort of pet when we’re settled, and she seems happy with that for now.’

‘And Lily?’ asked April.

‘We’ll see what happens.’

‘It’s the unknown that scares her.’

‘It scares us all,’ Tara replied as they reached the river’s edge. ‘What’s wrong, April?’

Her friend looked across the water towards Ince Marshes where the brutal industrial landscape cut into the horizon. ‘Maybe we should wait for Faith.’

‘Did someone mention my name?’

Dexter had been digging up sods of earth on the embankment, but stopped at the sound of a new voice. His hindquarters tensed as he prepared to launch himself at Faith, who was wearing a full-length woollen coat in a beautiful shade of olive green.

Faith peered at the dog over the rim of her sunglasses. ‘Down!’ she said in a low growl.

Dexter pressed his body to the ground while April’s jaw dropped. ‘Here, you take him,’ she said, offering the leash.

‘Good grief, no. I can’t stand dogs. I’m more of a cat person.’

‘I didn’t know you had any pets,’ April said.

‘I don’t, but if I had to choose, it would be a cat. They seem less needy.’

‘You make a good point,’ Tara said as she watched Dexter slink away from Faith to hide behind April. His lower half was caked in mud and he no longer looked like a teddy bear that anyone would want to cuddle. Perhaps she should have brought Molly with her.

‘Which way should we go?’ asked April when Dexter resumed tugging on his leash.

They had the option of walking upriver for a closer view of the bridges spanning the Mersey at Runcorn, but Tara turned her back on the sun, and they set off on the path that skirted the edge of the pasture and led to an ancient duck decoy cut out of the salt marshes to attract water fowl. ‘We might be able to spot Hale lighthouse across the marshes.’

‘I imagine this would be quite a nice route for a jog,’ said Faith.

‘You’re taking up running?’ asked April.

‘No, I meant for you,’ Faith replied. ‘You seemed very interested in Nick’s fitness regime. I thought you two might have formulated a plan by now.’

Faith’s comment sounded innocent, but Tara picked up an undertone. Did she think there was something developing between the group’s newest members? Tara had seen April and Nick talking after the last meeting, but when she had gone over to join them, April had looked relieved to have the extra company. If there was any interest, it was one-sided.

‘He hasn’t been pestering you, has he?’ asked Tara.

April’s laugh held no mirth. ‘No. And how could he? He doesn’t have my number.’

‘But he—’ Faith snapped her mouth shut before she could finish her sentence.

‘What?’ demanded Tara. ‘You didn’t give it to him, did you?’

‘Of course not,’ she said. It wasn’t often that Faith was wrong-footed, but she sounded unsure when she added, ‘He mentioned setting up a WhatsApp group, that’s all, and I presumed you’d all swapped numbers.’

‘He never mentioned it to me. Do you think he needs more support than a monthly meet-up?’ asked Tara. ‘According to Justine, his only family is one sister. Could he be reaching out?’

‘He’s not shown any interest in going over to the pub whenever Steve’s asked,’ April said. ‘I get the impression he’s the type who prefers women’s company.’

Tara was inclined to agree. Nick did appear more at ease talking to the female members of the group, in fact she could remember him making a point of saying goodbye to Faith. She could see Nick with his phone in his hand. ‘Did he ask you for your number, Faith?’

She huffed rather than give an answer. ‘Was there a point to coming out today? I thought you had some news for us, April.’

When April dug her hand into her pocket, Dexter’s ears pricked at the rustle of the treat bag, but the object she pulled out was smooth and white.

‘I found this on Jason’s grave,’ she said, unfurling her fingers.

The three women stopped to gather around April’s open palm. Her hand shook, not least because Dexter had lost interest in them and was straining on his leash again.

‘Here give me that,’ Faith said, taking the leash and yanking it hard. ‘Hey, you!’

Dexter froze immediately. The leash relaxed.

‘Come here, sit down, and be quiet.’

The dog crept towards her, tail between his legs.

‘I said sit!’

White crescent moons rimmed the dog’s eyes as he sat down and gazed up at Faith. For the moment at least, they could concentrate on the object in April’s trembling hand.

‘What is it?’ asked Tara.

April lifted the stone between her finger and thumb and turned it from side to side so it caught the light. ‘It’s a heart,’ she said. ‘I found it on Jason’s grave. Someone had hidden it there.’

‘Can I?’ asked Faith. She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and held the stone inches from her nose. Her eyes narrowed. ‘Are those random scratches, or could it be writing?’

‘I’ve been staring at that bloody thing all night,’ admitted April. ‘I can make out a J and what might be a T for Jason’s initials, but it’s in the middle, so maybe it’s a plus sign.’

‘I think it’s a plus sign,’ agreed Faith, ‘and there are more scratches to the left of it, but that’s harder to read. Is it an S?’

‘It could be,’ April said with a shrug.

Taking back the stone and the leash from Faith, April set off again and the others followed. Dexter kept checking for Faith’s approval. He was no longer leading the pack.

‘It doesn’t matter what the scratchings say, at least not completely. It’s what they represent. Jason plus someone else – someone who isn’t me,’ April said. ‘I’d almost convinced myself I was being paranoid and the cash withdrawals meant nothing. What an idiot am I? Totally trusting while he was alive and still ignoring what my subconscious has been screaming at me for the best part of a year.’

‘I’m so sorry, April,’ said Tara. She wanted to put an arm around her, but Faith was between them and as yet, she hadn’t realised that April needed the human touch.

‘I notice neither of you has said there’s some other explanation.’

‘It’s possible the stone ended up on Jason’s grave by accident,’ Faith said, digging her hands into her pockets. ‘A child could have picked it up from another grave and discarded it in the wrong place. But, when you consider the coincidence that the inscription includes the letter J, together with the bank account evidence and the doubts you had before Jason died, it does make for a compelling case.’

‘What about you, Tara? What do you think?’

Tara walked in silence for a while. She wanted nothing more than for April to find some form of resolution and the simplest and least painful way for that to happen was to give up on the idea that Jason had secrets. Unfortunately, the heart-shaped stone pointed down a rockier path. ‘No amount of talking is going to convince you one way or the other,’ she said. ‘You claim the letter that might be an S doesn’t matter, but is there a name that springs to mind?’

‘I don’t know everyone in Jason’s life, particularly his working life,’ April said. ‘I never audited the Highways Section because of the conflict of interest. I’ve met some of the staff, and I’m friends with a few, but Jason was on site a lot of the time and he dealt with all kinds of contractors.’

The tone of April’s voice was off. Faith picked up on it too. ‘But is there someone you do know?’

‘I could list a dozen,’ said April. ‘There’s a Sophie and a Siobhan, two Staceys, a Suzanne. Shall I go on?’

There was one name Tara noticed was missing. On the day she had visited April’s office, she had spoken to one of her colleagues. The woman had apologised on April’s behalf for nearly knocking a couple of cake boxes out of Tara’s hand, and had appeared desperately concerned – or had it been a severe case of guilt? Her name was Sara, and she had been heavily pregnant. Little wonder April wouldn’t want to consider her a suspect.

As their pace quickened, April looked out across the river. The milky sunlight gave the water a pearlescent quality, while the land on the other side was painted in layers of varying shades of grey. There were church spires and other signs that the industrial landscape they were following had given way to gentler scenes. ‘I think that’s Eastham over there,’ she said.

Tara remained quiet, as did Faith.

‘There are some lovely places to visit. I could take you to Eastham Country Park some time. Jason and I were always borrowing Dexter so we could go for long walks and have brunch in the Mimosa Tea Garden,’ she said, a wavering smile on her face.

‘It sounds lovely,’ Faith said with a heavy dose of cynicism.

‘We were happy,’ she replied, her steps faltering. ‘And I don’t understand why he would risk that for someone else. Yes, I could go through his phone and pick out women’s names beginning with S, or any other letter you care to choose, but pretty much all of them are in my contacts list too. It doesn’t make sense. Not one of them would be worth risking what we had. Not one.’ She pursed her lips together and they trembled.

Tara willed Faith to put an arm around April or do something, anything, to let her know that she wasn’t alone. When it became apparent this wasn’t going to happen, she moved behind Faith and pushed her out of the way so she could slip an arm around April’s waist.

‘It’s a lot to take in and you’ll need time to process how you feel and plan what to do next,’ Tara said.

‘But where do I go from here?’

‘You’re the auditor,’ Faith piped up. ‘Do some more digging.’

Tara gave her a look, eyebrows raised. You’re not helping. In response, she imagined eyes being rolled behind Faith’s shades.

‘You don’t have to rush into anything,’ Tara continued. ‘Take it slowly. And keep talking to us.’

‘I will,’ April replied. They had reached the westerly edge of the pasture and were close to the hide where they could look out over the duck decoy, but April was already glancing back in the direction of the car park. ‘But I’ve kept you long enough. I don’t mind heading back.’

Tara had a million and one other things to do, but she wasn’t going to pack April off home if she still needed them. ‘I don’t mind,’ she said, withdrawing her arm so her friend could decide which path to take.

April did an about turn and her friends followed suit. Dexter was the last to notice, and hurried to catch up. He almost tripped Tara up as he wove through a forest of legs to be at Faith’s heel.

‘I think he likes you,’ April said as she untangled the leash.

‘I have a knack of attracting unwelcome attention,’ she mumbled.

RESPONSES

Alex Butterworth @AlBut4550

Replying to @thewidowsclub

Your group has something to hide, no wonder you don’t want anyone talking. From what I’ve read, there were a lot of arguments.

Jodie @iamJPriestly

Replying to @AlBut4550 @thewidowsclub

The papers are making it up. You have no idea what you’re talking about.

Alex Butterworth @AlBut4550

Replying to @iamJPriestly @thewidowsclub

They’re not making up a murder though, are they love?

7

Jason had been dead nine months, which perversely was the time it took to create a life; unless you were a widow; unless you had discovered your marriage was a sham. April’s life could only be described as barren, although she hid it well. She ate when she wasn’t hungry, slept although sleep was never peaceful, and rationed her display of emotions so as not to alarm anyone. The hardest part of her performance was in front of Jason’s parents. She kept in regular contact, and whenever she spoke to his mum, her feelings became confused. They cried together and shared the sense of loss that April otherwise denied herself since discovering the stone on Jason’s grave.

With the November support group meeting still over a week away, work was April’s only refuge from troubled thoughts, but apparently not today. There was a cooing sound coming from the other side of the office that April studiously ignored. She had been over to say hello to Sara and smiled pleasantly at the six-week-old baby being passed from one clucking colleague to the next. It was only when the youngest member of the team, Georgie, was about to hand it to April that she had bolted back to her desk.