Sleeping Angel (Ravenwood Series) (25 page)

‘And Isabelle’s on there because she died nearby?’

‘No, because she was born in the parish.’

Of course! And suddenly April had another idea. She was filled with both excitement and dread. It was something Robert Sheldon had said to her that night of flame and blood, something about a coincidence.

‘How far do the records go back, Mr Gordon?’ she asked, her heart beginning to beat faster.

‘Oh, all the way back. We had a team come over from America to do it all,’ he said proudly, ‘Went right through the vaults, parchment scrolls, everything.’

‘Could you look something else up for me? Another name, a burial in the cemetery that happened in 1887?’ April remembered that date vividly, the year Gabriel had been turned.

‘Of course, if you can tell me what this is all about?’

‘Not really, Mr Gordon, but it could be important. Very important.’

He paused. ‘All right, you’d better give me the name.

‘It’s Lily ... Oh.’ It was only then that April realised she didn’t know Lily’s surname. There was little hope of the vicar tracing her with only the first name. Then she had a sudden thought. ‘Try Lily Swift.’

April could hear the rattle of the keys as the vicar typed it in.

‘March 15
th
, 1887.’

It
was
her! 1887 was the year Gabriel had told her Lily had died, the year he had become turned himself in a desperate attempt to keep Lily with him. And Gabriel had used his name, of course he had. They were engaged to be married, after all. It was Gabriel’s way of linking them together even in death. Perhaps a way of reminding himself of the promise he had made to her on her death-bed, the promise that he would never take a human life, that he would stay strong for her. If she hadn’t been slightly jealous, April knew she would have found it romantic.

Concentrate, April,
she said to herself,
concentrate on what it all means.

What it meant was that Sheldon had been right. He had sneered when Gabriel had said he was in the cemetery for Lily’s anniversary on the night of Isabelle’s death. Gabriel
hadn’t
been there for Lily. So why
had
he been there? And more importantly, why didn’t he remember?

‘Are you all right, my dear?’ asked the vicar.

‘Yes, just ...’ April turned as she heard the front door open. ‘Sorry, Mr Gordon,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ll explain later, my mum’s here, I’ve got to go.’

She hung up the phone just as Silvia walked in staggering under the weight of a number of clanking grocery bags.
Mainly liquid groceries by the sound
, thought April.

‘Darling!’ she beamed, dropping the bags and coming across to embrace April. ‘How are you? Tell me the truth – I’ve been so worried.’

April wriggled from her grip. ‘I’m fine, mum, don’t fuss. It’s nothing.’

‘Nothing? I watched the news. The way they’ve been describing it, it wasn’t nothing. That poor boy! And right in front of the house too – so horrible.’

“That poor boy”,
thought April. It was amazing how sudden death could wipe away all your sins. Calvin had been described in the press as “a wonderful son, gentle and loving” and “world-class athlete cut down in his prime”. There had been nothing about drinking the blood of vulnerable school children or forcing himself on weeping girls.

‘The only reason I didn’t come straight over was because your grandfather said I’d give the paparazzi another picture to keep the story going.’

Yeah, that and your busy social calendar,
thought April.

‘There was no need anyway, mum,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen much worse.’

Silvia looked at her, her expression serious. ‘Yes, and that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m glad you’ve visited, because we need to have a serious chat.’

Not another woman-to-woman discussion,
thought April. These things always turned into a lecture about how evil men were, and how they couldn’t be trusted and if she wasn’t careful, April would end up pregnant on crack in a council flat. Silvia was not a great motivational speaker. Even so, April could see she wasn’t going to escape this one easily, so she sighed and reluctantly sat down.

‘Now, I know things haven’t been very easy for you since we moved here,’ began Silvia.

‘That is the understatement of the year,’ said April.

‘Exactly,’ said Silvia, missing the irony in April’s tone. ‘Your father and I made the decision to move to Highgate, and clearly ... well, clearly it was the wrong decision. Having said that, I’ve been so proud of you, April-- the way you have coped with this -- but the truth of the matter is, I – your father and I – made a terrible mistake coming here.’ She paused. ‘That’s why we’re moving back.’

April could feel her mouth drop open. ‘Back? To Edinburgh?’

Silvia nodded. ‘With your father’s insurance coming through, we’ll be able to afford something very nice in Merchiston. I’ve already had a look at a few things online, but of course it’s a joint decision.’

April could feel her anger rising. She couldn’t believe Silvia was actually suggesting this. ‘Instead of listening to me a year ago, you wait until our family is torn apart, my father is dead and you’re exposed as an adulterer?
Then
you decide to leave?’

It was a low blow and April knew it, but she was too furious to hold back. How
dare
she? How dare Silvia make decisions – life-changing decisions – without even consulting her? Yes, April had already moved out, but that wasn’t the point, was it? Her mother was still trying to push her around, with no thought for April’s own feelings.

‘Of course you’re upset about how things have worked out, April,’ said Silvia, ‘but I think cutting our losses and moving back to Scotland is the best solution for everyone.’

‘Best solution for you, you mean! What about me? I’ve made friends here; I have responsibilities. I’ve made a
life
here!’

‘I know you’ve bonded nicely with some girls – Gabriel too. I understand you don’t want to leave him, I’m not completely insensitive. But you’ll be off to university next year anyway, darling, and you’ll make a whole load of new friends then.’

‘That’s not the point!’ cried April, ‘You can’t just play around with my life like this, mother! You made me leave everything behind in Edinburgh and now you’ve decided to run back on a bloody whim?’

‘No, April,’ said Silvia, ‘Not on a whim. A boy was killed outside your grandfather’s house-- that’s a serious matter. Clearly you’re not safe here.’

‘Oh, and you’re just working that out now? How is some stranger getting killed in the street “a serious matter” and my father being slaughtered in front of me isn’t? Why didn’t you suggest going back then? What about the three or four times people have tried to
kill
me? Seriously, how come none of that made you think it’s not safe here?’

‘Clearly in hindsight, I should have —’

‘Hindsight? Jesus, mother! Listen to yourself. A man actually tried to set me on fire, remember? Another one tried to kill me – twice! Why didn’t this miraculous “hindsight” kick in then?’

And suddenly April realised
this
was why she was so angry with her mother. It wasn’t that she was a useless mother, it wasn’t that she was aloof and absent, it wasn’t even that she had let them all down with her affair – she was angry because her mother
hadn’t
taken her away. That was what mothers were supposed to do, wasn’t it? Surely, even rubbish mothers did what they could to protect their children? Now April could see that this was what she had been yearning for – for her mother to wake up one morning and say “we’re leaving; you’re more important than anything here. We’re off to Scotland, or the Channel Islands, or France, or Jamaica, anywhere that isn’t this village of death”.’ But she hadn’t. She
hadn’t.

Silvia opened her mouth, then closed it again. The look of misery on her face almost made April relent. ‘I ... I tried,’ Silvia stammered. ‘I just didn’t ...’ She looked up, her eyes wide. ‘I just didn’t know what to do.’

Oh God,
thought April. Another horrible, unwelcome revelation. Silvia hadn’t taken her away because she just wasn’t capable of it. Too selfish, too fundamentally lacking in maternal instincts. You always assumed that your parents were the strong ones, those superhuman beings who knew how to do everything and how to cope with everything, but it turned out that actually they were pretty crap.

‘Your father always made all the big decisions,’ said Silvia, ‘He was the strong one. People laughed at him, said he was under the thumb, but he was always in charge. And when he was gone, I just didn’t have anyone to ...’ She looked down at her hands and let out a sob. ‘I didn’t have anyone to talk to.’

‘Oh, Mum,’ said April, stepping forward and putting her arms around her. ‘Don’t be so bloody silly. You’ve got me, you’ve got Gramps, Luke, about a zillion friends.’

Only that wasn’t true, was it? Thought April, not for her, anyway. She hadn’t been there for her mother, in fact she had been selfish and mean. Okay, so Silvia had deserved some of it, but April knew deep down she’d been a pretty poor daughter.

‘I know,’ said Silvia, ‘But the thing is I couldn’t talk to any of you, not really talk like I used to talk to your dad. I know you think we just argued all the time, but ... but that’s why I couldn’t leave Highgate. I just didn’t want to leave Will. God knows, I’d let him down enough in life, I couldn’t leave him behind here on his own.’

‘Mum, I do love you, you know,’ said April.

‘But you’re not leaving, are you?’

‘No, I can’t. I know you probably don’t understand, but I have too much here to just up and go. People are depending on me. I’m not sure I can make much of a difference, but I have to try.’

‘You’re talking about Gabriel.’

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement of fact.

‘Partly Gabriel, yes. I love him. And before you say it, it’s not just puppy love.’

Silvia held up a hand. ‘I may not be able to boil an egg or remember the date of your parent-teacher evenings, but one thing I do understand is what goes on inside a girl’s heart. I know it’s real to you.’

April was about to protest, but Silvia carried on. ‘That’s not to belittle it. I just mean all love affairs
always
feel right, they feel perfect – until that horrible moment they don’t and you realise how wrong you’ve been about a man. But that’s the tragedy of love. Every single relationship you have is wrong until you find the one that’s right. It’s that old cliché about how you have to keep kissing the frogs, otherwise you’ll never find your prince.’

‘Gabriel
is
right for me, Mum,’ said April.

‘I hope so. For all the right reasons, I truly hope so. But ...’

‘But what?

‘You asked “why now?” – why I left it until this boy Calvin was killed to get you out of here?’

The serious look on her mother’s face told April she wasn’t going to like what was coming.

‘Two nights ago, you found a boy strung up on a gate, his blood in a puddle on the floor. And look at you, you’re fine.’

April laughed nervously. ‘I’m not
fine
...’

‘Yes, April, you are. And I can’t tell you how much that terrifies me. If any other seventeen year old girl had bumped into a corpse, they’d be blubbering in a corner, having nightmares and screaming fits; they’d need a lifetime of therapy. But with you, it’s like water off a duck’s back, straight back to school, not a care in the world.’

‘When you’ve been attacked as many times as I have ...’

‘Exactly. And that’s why I thought – I
knew
– we had to get away from here. This village, everything that’s happened here, it’s changed you.’

April knew she was right, but what could she do? Did she want to be a Fury? No. Did she want to know about the vampires? No, of course not. Who would want to know they were surrounded by undead killers? But you couldn’t go back, she couldn’t become innocent April Dunne again. It
had
changed her,
of course
it had changed her, but she was stuck with it, for better or worse.

‘So what are you going to do now?’ April held her breath at the question. She wasn’t sure she could stand it if her mother said she was going back to Scotland.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. If you’re staying, so am I. It’s not the sensible choice, but when did I ever choose the sensible route? I suppose I had to face the fact that you were going to grow up and start making your own decisions sooner or later – after all you do have your father’s stubborn streak.’

‘I do?’ said April, unable to hide her pleasure.

‘The two of you were like a couple of mules. Remember that time we went up to Loch Ness? You insisted on going out on the water in that horrid old rickety rowing boat looking for the monster. I tried reasoning with you, bribing you with candy floss and Barbies and God knows what else, but you stamped your little foot. You just
had
to see Nessy.’