SO THE DOVES by Heidi James

Author:Heidi James
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Bluemoose Books Ltd
Published: 2017-07-21T11:49:28+00:00

A Long Silence

After the cemetery I dropped mum home. It was strange, standing there in the bright sun, gazing down at my father’s grave as if waiting for something – an answer or realisation, a sensation of grief – while Mum tugged out the dandelions growing by his headstone (simple, just his name and the dates that plot his span like coordinates on a map) before she filled up the vase from the tap by the chapel and arranged the flowers in silence.

‘I’m just going to run a couple of errands, Mum, alright?’ I said as she climbed out of the car. My head was throbbing. This time the road was empty: no one in the street and the only other cars were standing on the neighbours’ drives.

‘Oh, OK then.’ She looked disappointed, and a familiar feeling crawled cold up my spine.

‘I won’t be long.’

‘Shall I wait for you to have lunch?’

‘No, you carry on. Don’t mind me.’ There it was, kindness and my failure to be worthy of it, same as always.

‘Where are you going?’

‘I won’t be long.’

‘Where? Tell me or I’ll worry.’

‘I’ve got to get a laptop, I can’t keep using yours.’ My source hadn’t called and her number was still dead, my emails bouncing back undelivered, but I still believed I’d need to work, that I’d write again. More than that, I needed to get out of the house.

‘That’s a good idea. Drive carefully then.’

‘Will do.’ I watched her as she fumbled for her key, then stepped inside without waving goodbye. I opened the glove compartment and checked that the locket was still there, tucked under the log book.

I drove slowly, up past the estate, flicking through the stations on the radio, avoiding the news programmes until I found a classical music station. I let myself enjoy the sun and the music, just for a moment: no work, no Mother, no scandals, no lies, no guilt. No dead policeman. Not being followed.

At the edge of town I pulled into a new retail park. Six stores spread low and vast over the concrete, built from prefabricated cement and metal blocks, as if they were designed to withstand a hurricane in Mid-West America, not the mild English climate. There used to be orchards here, acres of cherry and apple trees planted in neat rows, but now our fruit is imported from South America and Africa, where the farmers are easier to exploit.

I parked right in front of Tech Whizzards and took less than twenty minutes to purchase a new computer, despite the salesgirl trying her best to deliver her pitch. My credit card was accepted, which of course it would be, except that I’d begun to imagine persecutions and calamities that weren’t real, or not yet real. Nothing would surprise me.

I drove over to Melanie’s old house. I couldn’t get the image of Burrell out of my mind, or the idea that the locket being moved was a warning. I couldn’t sit around the house, waiting. Waiting for what I wasn’t sure, but I knew that at some point the police would come.

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