Falling for you

Jump in and I’ll give you a lift.’ Pausing, she added, ‘Mum, are you OK?’ because Marcella was looking strained and distant, decidedly unlike her usual easygoing self.

But all Marcella did was nod, clutching the huge bunch of freshly picked honeysuckle, roses and ox-eye daisies to her chest.

The churchyard was deserted, the air hot and dry. Birds sang in the trees, but otherwise the silence was absolute. Marcella, still without speaking, cleared away the old flowers from April’s grave, rinsed out the steel water-holder and carefully arranged the fresh blooms in their place. Maddy had never seen her mother like this before; she was normally chatty and eternally cheerful. Was it something to do with the pregnancy, the risk of losing this longed-for baby as heartbreakingly as they had lost April eleven years ago?

Marcella was kneeling by the grave with her back to her. Maddy reached out and touched her on the shoulder.

‘Mum? Tell me what’s wrong.’

Slowly Marcella rose to her feet.

‘That’s April in there. Your sister.’

‘I know,’ said Maddy gently. Oh dear, she’d never heard Marcella sound so subdued; her hormones were clearly running riot.

The next moment Marcella did something far less subdued. Raising her hand, she slapped Maddy hard across the face.

‘April, your sister, is dead,’ Marcella shouted furiously. ‘And you’re carrying on with Kerr McKinnon as if she never even existed! You have no shame, do you hear me? I don’t know how you can live with yourself. Of all the men in the world, you had to get involved with him!’

Oh Lord. Maddy felt sick. Marcella had never laid a finger on her in her life. She should have ended it with Kerr while she still had the chance. Wide-eyed with shock, she took a step back before Marcella could slap her again.

‘I’m ashamed of you,’ Marcella raged, shaking her head in disgust. ‘This is your family, don’t you think you owe your sister a bit more loyalty than that?’

‘Kerr wasn’t the one driving the car.’ Maddy knew even as she said it that any form of argument was hopeless. ‘He didn’t kill anyone.’

‘I DON’T CARE!’ bellowed Marcella. ‘The McKinnons treated us like dirt, I can’t believe you even—’

‘I won’t see him again,’ Maddy blurted out, because what other choice did she have? This time, for Marcella’s sake, it had to happen. She couldn’t put it off any longer. Trembling, meeting Marcella’s icy gaze, she nodded and said, ‘I mean it, I’ll never see him again, just don’t shout any more, you know what the doctor said about staying calm and not getting worked up.’

‘Promise me.’ Marcella reached urgently for Maddy’s hands.

What else could she do?

‘I promise,’ whispered Maddy.

That was it; all over now.

Marcella hugged her, tears spilling from her luminous dark eyes.

‘You don’t need someone like that. Come on, let’s go home.’

As she followed Marcella back through the sun-dappled graveyard, Maddy thought, Oh, but I do.

Checking her watch – twenty to two – Maddy dropped Marcella home and headed back into the centre of Ashcombe. Juliet wasn’t expecting her back in the shop before two. Pulling up alongside Snow Cottage, she saw Jake sitting at one of the tables in front of the pub, drinking a pint of orange juice and chatting to Malcolm, who sold his surreal paintings from the workshop next to his. By sitting outside, they were able to take a lunch break and keep an eye out for passing potential customers.

Fury boiled up inside Maddy at the unfairness of it all. How dare bloody Jake sit there without a care in the world when her own life was collapsing around her ears?

Leaping out onto the pavement, slamming the driver’s door so hard it almost parted company with the car, she marched across the road.

Did you tell Marcella?’

Jake looked up, surprised.

‘Tell Marcella about what?’

‘So you didn’t?’ said Maddy, double-checking. She wasn’t about to make that mistake again.

Comprehension dawned. Jake, his eyebrows shooting up, said, ‘You mean she found out about Kerr McKinnon?’

Right, that was all the confirmation she needed. Marching past him into the pub, Maddy saw Kate behind the bar, wearing a lime-green sleeveless linen top and her customary superior smirk.

‘Well done,’ Maddy said loudly, not caring that there were customers in the pub. Since there was no longer any secret to keep, she could be as loud as she jolly well liked.

Turning, Kate said, ‘Excuse me?’ in that irritatingly disinterested way of hers.

‘I asked you not to tell Marcella and you told her. I explained why I asked you not to tell her,’

Maddy went on furiously, ‘but you went ahead and did it anyway.’