The Road to Bedlam: Courts of the Feyre, Book 2 (5 page)

    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.