The worst thing was that they wouldn't let us see the body. Both Katherine and I wanted to see her, just to say goodbye and to be able to believe what had happened. Barry was mute, unable to find anything to say that would touch the grief in Katherine and me. He had been fond of Alex, perhaps he had even loved her, but she wasn't his daughter.
The grief counsellor was kind but firm. "It's out of the question, I'm afraid," he said. "The protocols that come into force in these circumstances are very strict. There is to be no risk of contamination."
He paused, seeing that there was no recognition of his protocols from either me or Katherine.
He tried again. "It is a terrible tragedy that your daughter is dead. It would be a much greater tragedy and a gross neglect of responsibility if anyone else died because we had not been as careful and as cautious as we possibly could be."
"We just want to see our girl," Katherine wailed, and then dissolved into another bout of helpless sobbing into Barry's chest.
I stood alone, my fists clenched into tight wads of flesh, the tendons on my wrists standing out like wires as I tried to contain the anger that welled up within me. The need to see her, one last time, was raw in me. I knew that I could reach her despite anything they could do to stop me, but also that if I even so much as acknowledged the dark hot core that dwelt within me, it would feed on my anger and release a power that would be beyond my ability to control. No one would be safe, not the counsellor, not Barry and not Katherine.
"Is it such a lot to ask?" I ground my teeth, biting down on the anger that wanted release.
"Mr Petersen, I'm truly sorry. If we had a choice then we would allow it, but we do not. The wider safety implications have complete precedence. Is there someone to take you home, perhaps? Is there someone waiting for you?"
"There is someone, but…" Wiping unwanted tears from my eyes with the heel of my hand, I tried to breathe. I wasn't sure I could tell Blackbird. What explanation could I give? Alex was dead, but saying those words would somehow make them more real.
"Would you like me to call them first and talk to them, to make it easier?"
I hesitated and then shook my head. "I have to tell her myself."
There was a hand on my arm. It was Katherine. "We'll come with you," she offered. "Barry can drive you home."
"It's hours away. It's not even in the same direction."
"That doesn't matter. It's not like we'll be sleeping, is it?"
I hugged her to me and kissed her hair. Using the Ways I could be home within half an hour, whereas in the car it would be a long drive. I could use the time to think of something to say.
"Thanks," I told her, then nodded to Barry. "Thank you."
"The least I can do," he said, shaking his head.
The counsellor escorted us all the way to reception. He gave us a card with his contact details and said that we could call him night or day. He warned us that the next few days would be hard but that we would come through it. He told us to speak to our friends, our families and our loved ones and that they would help us come to terms with our loss. He asked if we were religious and offered to put us in touch with the chaplain for the school. He told us we might find some comfort with the other families that had lost their girls. It all sounded like good advice as it drifted past me like smoke. How could he possibly understand?
The car journey was long and dark. Katherine sat in the front while Barry drove. They barely spoke to each other. I couldn't help wondering whether their relationship would survive this. It brought Katherine and me closer than we had been in years, whereas it placed a barrier between her and Barry that was going to be there for a long time. I wondered if he was strong and patient enough to deal with that. Katherine was right; he was a good man. Sometimes, though, that wasn't enough.
The motorway lights streamed past like a pulse, echoed by the road noise. Barry drove and Katherine stared at the road ahead while I went through all the ways I could think of to tell Blackbird what happened. Most of the time I never got as far as saying it, even in my head. Just the thought of meeting her eyes with that knowledge in my heart was too painful. I shied away and began again until I felt numb with it. The pain was still there, knotting my gut and clamping my throat, but I was dead to it. I could no longer feel.
The lights died away as we transferred to country roads, leaving me in welcome darkness. The trees closed in and shrouded the road, slowing us so that we wound through the tunnel of leaves while my heart grew heavier as I recognised the twists and bends, and then we were there. As soon as the lights hit the front of the house she was in the doorway looking fragile in the harsh light. I got out of the car and walked towards her. By the time I reached her I was dumb. The pain I had locked away welled up in me, knotting my throat, spilling hot tears down my cheek. She simply opened her arms and held me while I shook with sobs.
"Oh, my poor love," she said. "My poor, poor love."
She led me inside, leaving Katherine and Barry to follow hesitantly into our tiny thatched house amid the trees. They stood inside the door looking lost while Blackbird guided me to the big settee where Alex had loved to slouch, her head lost in a book, shoes kicked off, feet up, idly twisting her hair around her finger. The memory made the pain sharper until I could feel sharp metal in my gut. I curled around it, hugging it to me like an unwelcome friend.
"Come in, please, come in," said Blackbird, "It's not much but you're welcome here."
Katherine and Barry edged in, and then Katherine started crying again and Barry was holding her and then we were all in tears. It was some time before order could be restored.
Blackbird disentangled herself from me and went through into the adjacent kitchen to put the kettle on. Then she returned and guided Katherine into the chair by the small log fire while Barry knelt beside her holding her hand and stroking her hair. Then Blackbird returned and sat with me, holding my hand in both of hers.
"What happened?" she said.
Between us, we managed to convey what had occurred, though it was mostly Barry who did the explaining. I was grateful for that. It was hard enough to hear those words, never mind say them. Blackbird was quiet, squeezing my hand hard when we came to the part where the grief counsellor appeared. There were more tears shared and then she made everyone tea and talked with us until we calmed. Finally, Barry suggested that they should be making tracks.
"It won't be the same without her," said Katherine.
"No, it won't," Blackbird agreed.
"The house is going to feel so empty."
"I know."
"Oh God, I'm going to have to go through her things, aren't I? Someone will have to."
"I'll help you," Blackbird offered.
"Thank you, but I think maybe you shouldn't be upsetting yourself in your condition. They pick up on these things. You have to be careful. How long until you're due?"
Blackbird looked suddenly uncomfortable. "I'm… not sure."
"Not sure? They must have got better at this since I had Alex… Oh, Alex." Her eyes filled again and I thought that there would be more tears, but she straightened. "It catches you out, doesn't it?" she said, brushing her eyes with the back of her hand.
"It's going to be like that for a while, I think," said Blackbird.
"She was so looking forward to the baby." Katherine fished into her pocket for a better tissue and then blew her nose noisily. Barry was at her shoulder, slipping his arm around her waist, squeezing her close.
"We'd better head off," said Barry. "I can contact the hospital tomorrow for you, or later today, and find out what the arrangements are. There'll be the funeral to get through."
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Call me tomorrow, and thanks. You've been a rock. I don't know how Katherine or I would have managed without you."
"You do what you can." He shrugged, shaking his head in resignation.
Blackbird and I stood outside on the edge of the light that spilled from the doorway while Barry reversed his Toyota back down the narrow bumpy drive, though the gateway and out on to the road. We waited until the headlights vanished and the sound of the car was drowned by the susurrus hush of the night wind through the branches.
"Are you coming in?" asked Blackbird.
"In a minute."
"Don't be long. You'll get chilled."
"OK."
Blackbird went inside, leaving the door ajar behind her so that a fan of light faded across the grass into the edge of the trees. Clouds scudded across the circle of sky above me in the first glimmerings of dawn. The moist smell of leaf mould and woodsmoke lingered in the clearing around the house. I stood for a long while, thinking. Alex had been my world. I had fought to protect her and risked my life to keep her safe only to have her snatched from me while my back was turned. How could that be? The pain welled up in me again and made it hard to breathe.
I swallowed hard, forcing down the lump that formed in my throat. In truth, I wanted the pain. I wanted to immerse myself in grief. Would it be so terrible to ignore everyone and everything else and wallow in selfish sadness? What would it achieve? Nothing. It wouldn't bring her back. It wouldn't even help to keep the memories sharp so that I could hoard them like some jealous serpent, coiled around and squeezing them for the bitter milk of sorrow. I took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. I was dog-tired but not ready to sleep. Maybe if I went to bed, Blackbird would sleep for a while. She looked like she needed it.
Once inside, I locked the door and drew the inner curtain across the porch to keep the warmth in. The fire was the only heating in the house, so I banked it with logs and put the guard in front of it, knowing that it would still be burning by the time we needed to be up again. Then I turned off the lights and climbed the switchback staircase to the high vaulted room above, finding Blackbird huddled in a nest of quilts, waiting for me. I undressed, crawled in alongside her and let her ease in under my arm, resting her head on my chest until her breathing deepened and she finally slept. I lay awake and drifted, unable to sleep but badly in need of rest. The sun rose outside our circle of trees but within the dappled clearing our house creaked and settled in shade, fostering my shadowed thoughts.
I must have slept eventually because I was woken by heavy banging on the door. I left Blackbird pulling the quilt back over her head and went down in only sweat pants to see who was disturbing us. It was Garvin.
"You're late," he said without preamble, "and you look like shit. What's up?"
"You'd better come in."
I left the door open and went back into the sitting room, tugging back the long drapes from the small window to allow the filtered daylight into the room. It was never light in this house, but Blackbird liked it that way. I poked the fire into life and tossed another log on to the embers. The wood sizzled and cracked as the heat blistered the bark.
"What's wrong, Niall?" He never called me Niall. He always used my fey name, the name I had earned in a trial by ordeal. He always called me Dogstar.
So I told him. I started from the beginning and didn't stop. I told it like a story, as if it were something that had happened to an acquaintance; nobody close, no one I cared about. It made it easier.
He stood initially and then sat on the battered settee and listened. He didn't say anything at all and his silence let me speak. I got as far as telling him about returning to the house in the early hours and then Blackbird appeared in the doorway looking wrung out and pale, the soft skin under her eyes bruised with exhaustion and worry.
"I'll make tea," she said.
I started to finish the tale but he raised his hand and stopped me.
"Enough, I've heard enough. Is there anything I can do? Is there anything the Warders can do?"
"No. There is nothing to fight."
"Fighting isn't all we do, Niall. If you think of anything, even a small thing, you only have to ask and it will be done."
"Thanks."
"You have my deepest sympathies. I had no idea or I would have come earlier."
"We were sleeping, or trying to sleep."
"Then you have my apologies for waking you."
"It's not a problem. We would have to be up soon anyway. There are arrangements to make. We have to organise a funeral."
"Once again, Niall, I offer my services and that of your fellow Warders. If there's anything you need, just ask."
"It's something I have to do myself."
"I understand. I should go."
"I think Blackbird's making tea."
"Don't worry, I'll go. You know how to reach me if you need anything?"
"Yes."
He stood and faced me, placing his hand upon my shoulder.
"Anything at all, you'll let me know?"
"Yes."
He released me and went to the kitchen door, where he spoke a few soft words to Blackbird and then turned and left, easing the heavy wooden door shut behind him. I sat in the armchair and watched the fire. Blackbird brought me tea, but it went cold in my hands before I stirred.
It was Barry's call that raised me. We spoke at length and then I threw myself into the arrangements. I had to liaise with the school, the church, the hospital; everyone seemed to have some claim on my daughter's death.
I didn't bother attending the opening hearing of the inquest. We were told that the Coroner would order an investigation, that the bodies would not be released until the investigation had delivered its preliminary findings, and that the proceedings would be adjourned. Apparently it was over in ten minutes.
Katherine and I were invited to a meeting with the head teacher from the school, which we thought a little strange. The school found themselves caught between the appalling guilt at what had befallen our children and the awful thought that we might sue them for negligence. I hadn't even considered the possibility after the remarks made by the consultant. We had been told that the cause was a freak accident and that there was no way that the school could have predicted it. It wasn't until I met the other girls' parents that I realised why they were being so cautious.
Katherine and I were guided into an orderly office to meet the head teacher and the chair of governors. They were in a sombre mood and greeted us with courtesy and obvious sympathy.
"The whole school is in shock," the head told us. "I never realised that such things could happen anywhere, never mind here. Obviously the whole of the PE Block has been sealed off and we are not accepting the children back on site until we have assurance that it's completely safe."
She sighed. "That doesn't help you, though does it? I can't tell you how sorry I am for your loss. Alex was a joy to have in class and a pleasure to teach. Her loss will be felt keenly throughout the school for a long time to come."
"Thank you," Katherine answered.
The chair of governors, a quiet man who sat to one side throughout the conversation, leaned forward. "We'd like to suggest a joint memorial service, as soon as we can allow the people back on site. We think it would help the children and the families to come to terms with what happened. Would that be OK?"
I looked at Katherine and she nodded.
"The families will obviously have their private funerals, once arrangements can be made, but this has affected everyone in the school. The whole community is in shock."
"I think we understand that," I said, while part of me was thinking that it was nothing compared to losing your child.
"We'd like to bring everyone together, if that's OK?" said the head. "To help the children and the staff. The school will be closed for the day of the service and I think most of the staff are planning to come along, if that's all right with you?"
"Yes, they'll be welcome, of course," I told her.
"Please let us know if there's anything we can do."
The head stood and offered her hand to each of us in turn. She had a firm handshake and a steady grip. We turned and left, with me still wondering what the meeting had been about. In the anteroom were another couple. The mother had bleach-blonde hair in a scraped-back style and big gold hoops dangling from her ears. She wore a white denim jacket that matched the white knuckle grip she had on the big brown leather handbag on her lap. The chalk-stripe suit and slicked-back hair of the man next to her made them an oddly matched couple. He looked uncomfortable, styled somewhere between city trader and used-car salesman. He was out of place.
She stood as we took our leave and I heard the conversation start behind us. The head greeted the parents with the same courtesy she had shown us.
"Mr and Mrs Welham, I'm glad you could come and see me at such a difficult time."
"You needn't give me none of that," said the woman. "He en't Mr Welham and you're responsible for this and no messing."
"We talked about this on the phone, Mrs Welham."
"Yeah and I en't finished yet. Now you listen to me…" The door into the head's office thumped closed behind them and Katherine looked sideways at me. She winced as shouting started beyond the door, underlined by the calm tones of the head.
"I do have some sympathy…" said Katherine.
"I don't think it helps," I told her, "and it won't bring any of them back."
"What I don't understand is what they were doing together. Alex never mentioned this Tracy Welham or the two other girls before. It's not like they were friends or anything. Kayleigh was the only one she ever talked about."
"I feel sorry for Kayleigh. She must feel like a lost soul without Alex. They spent their lives in each other's pockets."
"Her Mum rang me last night. She said Kayleigh's done nothing but cry. She doesn't know what to do with her."
"It's tough on all of us." I glanced back to where the shouting escalated further.
"Mrs Welham, if you would just sit down for a moment." The voice cut through the histrionics in full head teacher mode. There was a lull and we made our exit. On reflection, perhaps it was better to have these meetings privately, rather than in front of the whole school at the memorial service. I was grateful that the head had chosen to have this confrontation here rather than at the service.
In the meantime I had to go and see my parents. This was not the sort of news I could pass on over the phone.
I asked Garvin and he arranged for the loan of a car. The long drive down to Kent gave me plenty of time to consider what I was going to say, but when I arrived I was no closer to finding the words. When I drove up unannounced, my mother knew there was something wrong immediately and did what she always did in a crisis. She made tea.
We sat in their overheated lounge and I told them what had happened. Initially they did not believe me. They could not conceive of such a thing. Then my mother ran to her bedroom, locked the door and wouldn't come out. I could hear her crying, but she wouldn't speak to me. It made it seem like it was all my fault.
When I went back to the lounge, my father had poured himself a large whisky. It was only eleven o'clock. He poured me one as well, though I couldn't drink it because I needed to drive. We sat in silence, unable to bridge the gap between us. My mother didn't reappear. When I left, my dad came out with me to the car. He kissed both my cheeks, which he hadn't done since I was a boy.
"Will Mum be all right?" I asked him.
"I don't know," he said, in a moment of candid honesty. "I don't know."
A mile down the road I had to pull over and stop, unable to cry and drive at the same time.
The memorial service took over two weeks to arrange. I was surprised by the number of people who offered help or support or just wanted to be there. I dreaded the service and spent days obsessing about the arrangements and trying to anticipate every possible eventuality.
When the day of the service finally arrived, there were only two things that really surprised me. The first was the press. Only local journalists had shown any interest in the story up until then. There had been some big events in the national news that overshadowed our tragedy, and for that I was grateful. On the day, though, we received a barrage of phone calls from people wanting to speak to either Katherine or myself.
How did we feel about the loss of our daughter? Did we think the school was responsible? Were we taking legal advice? Weren't we interested in justice for our daughter? I wasn't sure what sparked off the assault but I had a suspicion that Mrs Welham was involved. The police liaison officer who had been assigned to Katherine screened all the calls and we spoke to no one who wasn't part of the arrangements.
At the service, the press were bunched around the school gates, held back by a couple of harassed-looking police officers, one male, one female. A group of photographers and journalists clustered around the school gate, thrusting microphones and lenses in the faces of anyone trying to enter the site.
The other surprise stepped forward to greet us. Garvin, Amber and Tate, all in dark grey, stepped between the reporters and the car and cleared a space while I helped Blackbird out of the car and Barry waited with Katherine.
"Is there a problem?" I asked Garvin.
He stepped in close while the other two prevented incursions.
"Stick with us and we'll keep the press back from your group. Don't worry about the photographers, none of the pictures will come out."
"Won't they think that's odd?"
"Probably. But without pictures the story will die. What can they do about it?"
We were escorted through the gates amid a blitz of flashes and allowed through. Amber and Tate came with us to the main doors and lingered as I allowed Blackbird to enter ahead of me. Once inside, I heard one of them challenge the liaison officer.
"You can't exclude us. The public have a right to know."
She answered, "There'll be a formal statement later if you would like to hang around." There was a chorus of protests, but with Tate looming behind her, no one tried to push past.
Inside there was a hubbub of low voices from the main assembly hall. A teacher walked forward to greet Katherine.
"Mrs Dobson, I'm Sally Helter, Alex's form tutor." She stumbled. "I mean, I was her…"
"I remember," Katherine told her, and squeezed her hand.
"Please come with me. There is a separate entrance for family."
She led us around the side of the hall down a corridor and through what must be the dining hall. There was another teacher waiting who nodded to us sombrely. He held open the door and we were shepherded into a hall filled with people. There was a lull as we entered and then the hubbub resumed as people spoke quietly to each other, exchanging news and rumour on the events of the past days. People were standing around the back and to the sides of the hall. There weren't enough seats. I looked around while Alex's form teacher guided us to reserved seats at the front. Garvin accompanied us and then fell back to the side to a small group gathered there. The other three Warders were there with someone else, someone I had not expected to be here. I exchanged a look with Blackbird, and she shrugged.
"Katherine, will you give me a moment?"
She nodded, distracted by something Barry was saying about all the flowers.
I slipped to the side to meet the group where the four Warders flanked a tall woman with long curls of blonde hair falling around her shoulders. She was the most beautiful woman in the room by far, but she attracted no attention. I doubt they even saw her.
"Lady, I am honoured that you would attend."
I was about to offer the formal salute of a Warder to Kimlesh, Lady of the Nymphine Court and one of the seven most powerful Feyre in existence, when she stepped forward unexpectedly and embraced me. I halfreturned the embrace, completely unsure of the protocol for such a situation. Garvin watched impassively, offering no guidance or advice.
She kissed my cheek and then stood back, holding my shoulders to look me in the eye.
"I am here to represent the Seven Courts of the Feyre at the memorial service for your daughter, Dogstar. I bear their condolences and their sorrow at the passing of your daughter, whom we had hoped to welcome into our courts. You have our deepest sympathies in the knowledge that the death of a child, any child, is the deepest loss that one can bear."
"Thank you, Lady."
"Now go and be with your family who need you at this time, in the knowledge that we too are here with you at her passing."
"I… thanks. It's appreciated."
I left her with the Warders and returned to my place beside Blackbird at the end of the short row set aside for the families, in time to see the head teacher mount a low dais at the front. Alongside us were a couple I didn't know with a younger boy dressed soberly in black. Across the aisle I could see the Welhams and another couple with several children, older and younger than Alex, at the far side of them. None of the children looked as if Alex would give them a second glance. The older girls all had black eyeliner and too much flesh showing while the boys had tattoos and buzzcuts. It was strange that Alex would have anything to do with them.
"Thank you, everyone, for being with us here today to remember four of our children, Alexandra Dobson, Jennifer Longman, Natasha Tolly and Tracy Welham. Our hearts go out to their families and their friends who feel their loss more keenly than any of us. Whatever your faith or beliefs, we ask you now to lower your heads while the Reverend Tim Meadows leads us in prayer."
The service started and I was only half-listening to the vicar who mounted the dais and led prayers for all the girls. The other half of me was listening to the people around us murmuring the words of the prayer, sniffing into handkerchiefs and comforting each other. There was a tension in the room that was unbroken, a dam that was yet to burst. I mimed the words, following the service through a photocopied handout while hymns were sung and prayers offered. Then it came to the part I had been dreading. The head teacher came back to the dais.
"I asked all the parents whether they wanted to say something at this service and it was understandable, I think, that most of them declined. Alex's father, though, said that he would like to say a few words about his daughter."
I stood. Katherine and I had talked about this and she was OK with it. I felt at the time we were asked that something should be said and that it was my responsibility to say it. I wished now that I had kept my mouth shut. Katherine reached up and squeezed my hand and I looked down at her. She gave me a smile and nodded. Now was the time.
I stepped forward and up on to the newly empty dais at the front. I had the words I wanted to say written out and I unfolded them on the lectern in front of me. It was brighter on the dais than I thought, but I could still see the crowd spread out in front of me. I cleared my throat. They all looked at me, expectant. I remembered advice about focusing on one person to make it personal, and my eyes found the one person I should not have looked at. I found Kayleigh.
As soon as I noticed her, her eyes brimmed and she turned and buried her head in her mother's midriff. I could hear her sobbing from where I stood on the dais. I looked down at the words and they blurred. No matter, I knew the opening words by heart. I had been through it enough times.
"I…" The lump in my throat became a stone.
I tried again. "I jus…"
Tears ran down my face. Suddenly I couldn't breathe. A hand was on my shoulder and then an arm. I was shepherded to the side by Fionh who guided me into Blackbird's arms, while Garvin gently pried the notes from my hand and stepped up the dais.
"My good friend, Niall, wanted to read these notes for himself, and for his daughter," he said in a clear voice that rang across the hall, "but he finds himself momentarily indisposed. So I will read them for him and, if you will, I would ask you to imagine that it is him speaking rather than me."
He paused and then started to read in slow measured tones.
"Alex was my only daughter, the child of my marriage to Katherine, her mother, who grieves with me. She was a normal girl in ways that were entirely special to us. She was bright and creative and full of passion and determination. While she claimed not to like school, she found it stimulating and challenging, a place to grow. She liked her teachers and was doing well in her work. She made some friends; I'm thinking of one in particular who is here with us now and grieves every bit as much as we do.
"It is hard for me to believe that she is not still at home, leaving her clothes and belongings strewn in a trail of detritus around the house, texting her friends after lights out with secrets and speculation, waking late on weekends with her curly hair in a messy halo around her face, her mood terse and monosyllabic until she'd had some coffee.
"She could be argumentative, rude, moody, and then all in a moment full of affection and love as if nothing had been said and all was forgotten. Her mother and I struggled to cope with her moods until we were finally forced to accept that it was just the way she was; a normal girl.
"At the time, I viewed all of these as irritations, bumps in the road to perfect parenting. Only now do I see them in their true light, as treasures to be kept in my heart. How will I manage without her turning up on my doorstep unexpectedly, bags packed, swearing that she's left her mother for the last time? How will I function without text messages about things I barely recognise, written in words I can't decipher?
"For those of us who knew and loved her, this is the burden we must carry, but we will carry it in the knowledge that it is ours and without it we would be diminished, we would be lesser people.
"Alex, wherever you are, my own sweet daughter, we love you."
The only sounds in the hall were Kayleigh sobbing and me sniffing. Then a solitary hand-clap turned into a pattering and the room filled with a sound like rain falling on a roof. It expanded, rippling from person to person until the room reverberated with it. Then slowly, softly, it faded away. There was a collective sigh, a deep and profound release and the tension in the room finally dissipated.
There were things said after that, but I don't remember any of them. The memorial service was over. Fionh handed me a tissue, pressed her hand to my cheek and told me how sorry she was. Garvin brought me back the notes, pressing them in to my hand. "Words that are worthy of her, Niall," he said. "Keep them."
Fellstamp patted my back and Tate pressed his hand on to my shoulder, squeezing gently. A lanky man in a dark suit stood before me and bowed slightly and put his hand over his heart. It took me a moment to realise it was Slimgrin and that this was the form he took to pass amongst humanity. Most surprising of all was Amber. I had never seen her show emotion, but she came to me with tears in her eyes and hugged me long and tight. She kissed my cheek and brushed back the tears. "Be strong," was all she said.
Lady Kimlesh reappeared when the Warders had paid their respects and took her leave. She took my hand and assured me once again of the heartfelt condolences of the High Council. Then she left by a side door, Fionh in front and Slimgrin behind.
Katherine was talking to the vicar, who nodded solemnly and spoke in low tones. She smiled weakly and then captured Barry's hand in hers and turned to me.
"We should go," she said.
I nodded, still unsure of my voice.
She stepped forward and hugged me tight, then hugged Blackbird. "Look after him," she told her.
Blackbird smiled and said she would try. Fellstamp and Amber escorted them out.
The Welhams stood up and hurried out together, perhaps to some other gathering more to their liking. The Tolly clan followed in their wake, the girls noisily comforting their mother while the boys followed, hands in pockets, stares sullen. The Longmans waited until they had all gone and then left quietly, Mrs Longman's face a blank mask while her husband laid his hand over his son's shoulders as they walked away, more for his own comfort than for his son's, perhaps.
I was left with the remnants of the gathering, the head teacher, the staff, a few stragglers.
Garvin turned to me. "We've brought the car round to the side entrance. Tate will deal with any remaining press. Any time you're ready."
Blackbird caught my arm in hers. "We should go too."
I nodded and was about to let her lead me out when the vicar caught my eye. He looked expectant.
"Would you ask the driver if he'll wait a few moments?" I asked her.
"Will you be OK?"
"Yes, just give me a moment."
I nodded to Garvin and he walked Blackbird to the side door, escorting her out.
The vicar stepped forward, hands clasped at his waist, expression calm and solemn. "I wanted to say how much I appreciated your words, Mr Petersen. They were a comfort to everyone here."
"It didn't work out quite how I'd planned," I told him.
"Nevertheless, you managed to put into words what everyone was feeling, and provided a focus for their grief."
I nodded.
"The death of a child is the hardest to bear," he said. "In my line of work we do births and deaths quite a lot." He walked towards the side entrance and I walked slowly with him. "A child, though, that's the hardest."
"My daughter was so precious to me."
"The hardest part will be the weeks to come. She'll be in your thoughts when you least expect it. You'll find yourself looking for her at the oddest times. Our hearts, they trip us up sometimes."
"I'll bear it in mind."
"If you find yourself in need of someone to talk to, someone to share a thought or a memory with, you can always call me, night or day." He pressed a slip of paper with a phone number on it into my hand.
"I'm not a religious man," I told him.
"I didn't say you were. But sometimes a stranger can offer you something that those who are close, those who share your grief and your loss, cannot. Think about it."
"I will. Thanks."
"God go with you, and bring you comfort." He pressed my outstretched hand between his. "Safe journey. Think about what I said."
"I will, and thank you for the service."
"Goodbye, Mr Petersen."
"Goodbye, Reverend."
I turned and left through the side door. The car was waiting and I climbed into the back beside Blackbird. Garvin was in the front with the driver. Blackbird held my hand and we were driven home. Hardly a word was spoken. There was nothing left to say. When we reached the house, the driver drove really slowly to avoid the potholes in the muddy track, stopping short of the house where the ground was more solid. We thanked him. Garvin spoke to him for a moment while Blackbird and I went inside. Within minutes, Blackbird had rekindled the fire and the log she had placed was steaming and crackling.
Garvin appeared. "The driver has gone. He offered me a lift but I said I would stay a while. I can stay for a while, if you want?"
I shook my head. "Thank you for all you've done today, Garvin. Especially for the reading."
"Anything for a friend."
"We'll be fine." I was sure he could hear the lie in that.
"I'll go then. Take care of each other."
"I'll contact you in a few days. Maybe we can start training again?"
"When you're ready, Niall. Give it time."
He surprised me by hugging me, and then Blackbird, and then leaving without another word.
"Just us then, love," she said.
We sat on the battered sofa for a long while, huddled together, her head on my shoulder, me stroking her swollen belly. Eventually she had to move.
"I'm getting stiff," she said. "I need to walk round."
"I'm going to change out of my suit," I told her, "maybe have a shower."
She stretched and relaxed, "Why don't you do that. You might feel better."
Upstairs, I undressed, hanging the black suit in the wardrobe. I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower until the steam rose from it, then I stepped under, hopping in and out of water that was too hot, unwilling to turn it down. I filled the bathroom with fog until it was so thick you could see the droplets in the air. I let the water run down my face until there was no way to tell where the water stopped and the tears began. I stayed under there until I was scalded and wrinkled.
When the shower began to cool, I turned off the water. Stepping out, I scrubbed myself with the towel. In the big bathroom mirror I could see only vague reflections in the misted glass. I let my head fall forward, put my hands on the mirror and tried to breathe. I stood there while my shoulders shook and hot tears joined the drips running down my chest.
"Oh, Alex, sweetheart. What will I do?"
There was a stillness. Then a whisper of parting. Then a voice.
"Daddy?"