The Road to Bedlam cotf-2

by Mike Shevdon

  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 th
eir 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.

  "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 halfreturned 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 comfortin
g 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.