The Widows’ Club. Amanda Brooke
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she was ready to tackle one of the departmental reviews that had slipped in the last year and she had been disappointed not to be given the Highways Section – it wasn’t as if Jason worked there any more – but she was looking forward to losing herself in an audit of the staff attendance system.
Choosing a cross-section of employees to sample for her review was proving difficult, and the arrival of Sara and the baby had made it doubly hard. Her assignment was simply to confirm that time adjustments had been authorised, but an opportunity had presented itself. Faith had told her to keep digging, and that was what she would do.
April blocked out the background noise and stared at her screen. She had gathered a few names on her list so far and most were random selections, but not all. She needed to know what Jason had been doing behind her back and how he had found the time to get up to no good. They went to work together and they went out as a couple. There were only a handful of occasions she could recall in those last months when Jason had socialised without her, but if any of those nights had been a cover story, he had been thorough. There had been his team’s Christmas meal and a few nights out with the lads, but all were documented on Facebook with photos as evidence. April had checked.
The only conclusion she could reach was that his illicit affair had taken place during the working week, which meant the council’s attendance system must hold a vital clue. That was why Jason Thorpe’s name was top of her sample list, but she didn’t have to stop there. It was entirely possible that Jason had sneaked off work to see someone completely unconnected with the council, but since she was looking anyway, why not add a scattering of female employees whose first name began with S? What harm could it do?
The baby had started to cry and the sound played on every one of April’s nerves. Its mother, however, was less perturbed. Sara handed a soother to Georgie and left her holding the baby while she made her way over to April.
‘I hope we’re not disturbing you,’ she said.
‘Don’t worry, I can work through anything.’
Georgie glanced over at them. She was rocking the baby with a growing sense of panic. It – he – was still crying. Sara had called him Fred. She was anything but conventional.
‘That’s not what I meant,’ Sara said. ‘If this is upsetting for you, we can go.’
April’s hands were splayed over the keyboard and one finger sought out the letter S. ‘Can I ask you something, Sara?’
‘Sure,’ she said, drawing closer. Her hand came to rest on a stack of print-outs piled up on the corner of April’s desk. On top of the pile was a white stone.
‘How well did you know Jason?’
When Sara’s fingertips sought out the curves of the love token, April’s pulse throbbed against her ears.
‘I knew him well enough to know not to be left at the bar whenever he ordered a round of shots,’ Sara said, recalling one of their notorious nights out.
‘He did pay you back, didn’t he?’
‘With interest,’ Sara said as she spun the stone 360 degrees. ‘What’s this about, April? Is there something particular you’re after?’
April held her friend’s gaze. ‘I sometimes wonder how well I knew him, that’s all. There are definite gaps.’
‘I’m no expert on grief, but maybe now that you can’t make new memories with Jason, you want to hear ones you haven’t heard before from other people.’
When Sara glanced down at the stone, April’s heart skipped a beat, but there was no flicker of recognition on her friend’s face. Sara was oblivious to the object’s meaning.
‘Yeah, something like that,’ April agreed, resting her back against her chair and allowing her shoulders to relax.
‘Have you talked to any of his mates? What about Callum? I’m sure he could tell a story or two, and Bree worked with Jason.’
‘No,’ April said, rejecting the idea with a shake of the head. It was possible that the pair had tales to tell, but Callum and his wife Bree had been Jason’s friends more than hers and would never break his confidence. They would think they were protecting her. ‘We’ve let our friendship drift and besides, going out with them was always a couples thing.’ Forcing her tone to lighten, she added, ‘I don’t think it would look good if I suggested a threesome!’
‘Never say never,’ Sara said. ‘Not that I’d know. There’s only one person interested in these boobs.’
‘He is beautiful,’ April said, glancing over at the baby in Georgie’s arms. She was tempted to take a closer look, no longer fearing the prospect of finding a reflection of Jason staring back at her. How awful was she to think that Sara would betray her like that?
But Jason had betrayed her, April reminded herself. And he hadn’t done it alone.
‘Do you want a hold?’ Sara asked. She had that proud mother expression when she added, ‘He’s quite cute when you get used to him.’
‘I’d love to but …’
‘You don’t have to explain,’ Sara said. ‘And if you ever need to talk, I’m always at the end of the phone.’
‘I don’t deserve friends like you,’ April said, her bottom lip quivering. ‘You’ve had your own troubles this past year and I haven’t even asked you about Connor. Has he made an appearance yet?’
‘He’s seen Fred and he’ll be a part of his son’s life whether he wants it or not. We’re fine. Don’t worry about us.’
‘I will try harder to be a better friend,’ April promised.
To prove her commitment, April returned to her computer once Sara had left her alone, and deleted her friend’s name from the list. There were people she could still trust, and she prayed she was making the right choices.
The buzz of the hedge trimmer set Faith’s teeth on edge as she set about cutting back the leylandii conifers that had grown at least another foot since her gardener, Leon, had tackled it earlier in the year. The hedge divided the land at the rear of the property from that of the neighbours, and she liked it to be high enough to shield her from prying eyes without leaving the rest of the garden in shade. Leon had made the job look easy.
It was Derek who had employed him, and Faith had continued with Leon’s services for as long as she could, but sacrifices had to be made and she had taken the difficult decision to cut back his hours. For appearances’ sake, Leon continued to maintain the front gardens, but Faith was no stranger to hard work and could take care of the rest. If by chance Mr Newton caught a glimpse of her cutting back the conifers, he would see only a figure dressed in black, wearing a baseball cap. He would never presume it was the second Mrs Cavendish.
If anything, pruning the hedge was a novel form of exercise, and Faith had convinced herself it was fun until the rotating blades of the trimmers snagged on a gnarled branch and she lost her balance. She stretched out her arms instinctively to stop herself from falling off the stepladder, and her grip on the trimmers loosened. With her finger still on the trigger, it arced forward and the whirring blades narrowly missed slicing into her thigh. She held back the cry for fear of being overheard, but the near miss left her shaken. She wept angry tears as she hacked at branches that she would not allow to defeat her.
When the job was done and the cuttings cleared away, Faith returned to the house, grabbed a bottle of Chablis from the kitchen, and dragged herself upstairs. She filled a deep bath and added a generous measure of her prized Jo Malone bath oil, because today she deserved it. Stripping off the cheap supermarket clothes she had been wearing, Faith sank beneath the suds and felt her old self return.
With Brahms playing in the background and her wine