The Road to Bedlam: Courts of the Feyre, Book 2 (6 page)

    "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 half returned 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.