by Natasha West
April was holding onto her cup with both hands like it was a life raft that might take her away from the awkwardness. But there was no getting away. She had April in her sights at last. After a long, deep silence, Sophie had to say something. ‘I suppose you’re wondering how I found you?’
‘I hadn’t gotten that far, actually,’ April answered. ‘I’m still working through the shock of seeing you.’
‘Yeah, I guess it must be quite surprising,’ Sophie agreed with an angry chuckle. ‘After all, I bet you thought you’d never see this face again, right? And then there it is, looking at you in a supermarket carpark. Shocker.’
‘You think I left,’ April said quietly.
Sophie’s rage leapt up. ‘What do you mean, I think you left. You did leave. I’m not imagining that, am I? Your little moonlight flit? I mean, you’re not still there in that flat?’
‘No, of course, I don’t mean-’
‘Maybe I just missed you. I just couldn’t see you hiding behind a sofa?’
April shook her head, exasperated. ‘I did leave, Sophie. But you think I left you.’
‘And what in the actual fuck does that mean?’ Sophie demanded.
April put her cup down. ‘You’re going to laugh.’
Sophie crossed her arms. ‘I can assure you, April, I won’t be doing much laughing today.’
April's shoulders slumped. ‘Yes, well, we’ll see. So… You want to know why I just upped and left? OK then. Well…
Sophie leaned in slightly, ready for whatever was going to come out of April’s mouth. Or so she thought.
‘How much do you know about witness protection?’ April finished quietly.
Sophie looked at April open-mouthed. And exploded with laughter. Through her amusement, she managed to sputter out, ‘That’s it? That’s the best you’ve got?’ She laughed further while April watched with a frown. ‘Witness protection?’
‘Shhh,’ April urged, looking furtively around the café. ‘Don’t shout it!’
Sophie’s laugh faded gradually. ‘Why not? Have the mob got spies?’
‘They’re not the mob, but they are organised,’ April sputtered indignantly.
Sophie sat back in her chair in amazement. ‘Wow, you’re really determined to make this fly. Just how thick do you think I am?’
‘I don’t; this isn’t-’
Sophie paid April’s indignant stuttering no mind. ‘Were you always like this and I just didn’t see it? Because I can’t remember noticing it at the time. But now, I wonder… were you always a pathological liar?’
April slammed a hand down on the table, making the ketchup and Sophie jump. April leaned sharply forward, halfway over the table. Sophie felt herself lean back. ‘I’m not lying,’ April said hotly. ‘I never lied to you. No, hold on, that’s not quite right. I did tell you a lie when we first met. About the reason I had to find a place to live quickly. My last place didn’t have asbestos, I was being moved because there were worries about my previous location, and I had to move for the third time in two years. My handler knew I was unhappy to be moving again, so he let me find my own place for a change. But then I ran right into you. I shouldn’t have… I should have left you alone; I know that. But I was miserable and scared and alone, and you made me feel… like everything might just be OK. And when we got together, I didn’t want to lie to you, but no, I didn’t tell you certain things because I didn’t know how. I thought I would one day, but I never got the chance, because my handler showed up and he told me it had happened again, that I was on certain radars. That was the fireworks night. He wouldn’t let me say goodbye, nothing. They just moved me and erased whatever they could.’
Sophie listened to all this and was far from ready to jump on board the story. It was fucking absurd. But it was also disturbingly detailed. ‘So you’re saying that in what, less than a day, the police showed up, vanished you and disconnected your phone, took your stuff, everything?’
‘That stuff’s easy for them. It’s what they do,’ April told her.
Sophie chewed the inside of her mouth for a second before reaching a judgement. ‘Nah. Not buying it. I think you just got bored, decided you’d had enough.’
‘Enough of what?’
‘Me, obviously,’ Sophie answered matter-of-factly.
April was astounded. ‘You think I erased my existence because I couldn’t face breaking up with you?’
Sophie shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
‘Ok, say I’m that kind of lunatic. Just for argument’s sake. Is that how it seemed to you that last night? At the fireworks? Like I’d had enough?’
‘I didn’t see it that night. But yeah, I came to reassess my instincts after it was clear that you’d done a bunk.’
‘Then why… why would I ask to meet your parents?’ April asked her. ‘Because that’s something you do when you think you’re going to be around. Which I did. I really did.’
Sophie was determined not to react to that. Though she was pretty sure her nostrils did one good flare. ‘I don’t know why you did that, April. I really don’t know.’
April sighed. ‘Do you honestly think I wanted to fuck you up by making you believe I was in it for the long haul and then vanish? I mean, really, is that the person you think I am?’ April asked. She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Sophie, for god’s sake, even the dumbest person in the world, which is not you, would have had an inkling if the person they were with every spare second had it in them to do that. You don’t think you’d have seen some hint I was that type of awful shitbag in the three months we were together? Some red flag? Caught me in a lie? Go cold at some odd moment? Even once maybe just seen me treat restaurant staff shittily?’
Sophie didn’t like how convincing April’s tone was starting to sound. Because she had a point. Sophie had told herself these past two years that April might well be a psychopath who revelled in ruining lives. When she put that assumption aside, wouldn’t she have seen some clue during their time together? Even once?
But there hadn’t been anything like that. That was what had been so shocking. April had empathy and kindness; she’d seen it over and again. She caught a tear coming out of April’s eye when they saw some tragedy on the news, though she’d been trying to hide it. To someone as cynical as Sophie, it had been touching. And it wasn’t the only sign of her character. She once took two days off work to care for a sparrow that had run into her window, feeding it milk through a pipet until the shock had worn off, and it could fly away. The person Sophie had needed to believe April was probably would have broken the little thing's neck and thrown it in the rubbish. And what about Halloween? Though it was April’s birthday, she’d insisted they stay in to be on door duty for knocking kids, lavishing them with fun-sized chocolate bars and mini Haribo. And she’d had a good time doing it.
There were other things too, and plenty. Still, two years is a long time to be angry. Sophie wasn’t about to flip as easy as that. ‘Alright. I’ll run with this for a second. If only for the shits and giggles of it. God knows you owe me some. If you’re in witness protection, let’s hear it.’
‘Hear what?’
‘The reason you’re in it, what else?’
April swallowed. ‘I don’t want to talk about that right now.’
‘If you want me to believe any of this, you don’t have a choice,’ Sophie told her sharply.
April’s shoulders tensed, her whole body did actually. A haunted quality entered her eyes. It was unconscious, her body becoming unhappy. It was then that Sophie seriously began to wonder if there was something in this.
‘I hate talking about this. But if it’s what you need…’ April sighed miserably. ‘So I used to live on a street called Jackson Road. It’s famous, apparently. Or infamous, I suppose I should say. But back then, I was probably the only person who didn’t know it.’
Six
Four Years Ago
April was at a wake, nibbling on a sausage roll at the buffet. The wake was for was one of her uncles, Johnny.
She hadn’t known him all that well, though he was always around. Everyone she was related to was always around. Not only did they all live on the same street, they were also all in the family business, an empire of low rent bars, fast food places, storage units, dry cleaners, you name it, any pie in the city of Layton that the Gardener family could get a finger in.
April was literally the only one who wasn’t employed in the business in some fashion, overseeing some chicken joint or corner shop. She was in art school instead, the first in the family to go in for any kind of further education. Her three brothers said, to a man, that it was a waste of time when they could give her a corner of the Gardener’s empire to run and get rich from. But April couldn’t think of anything more boring. She wanted to draw, nothing more.
She was sort of a laughing stock in her family, the arty fart in amongst the entrepreneurs, but she took that as gracefully as she was able. Only her mum encouraged it, said she wouldn’t like the business side of things, was better off with her ‘pads and pencils and things.’
‘You gonna eat that sausage roll or draw it?’ her brother Ian sneered, wandering over to the food table. He was her worst brother, an absolute dickwad who was obsessed with designer labels and his Mercedes.
‘Fuck off, Ian,’ April told him casually, taking a bite of the sausage roll while she stared at the casket across the room. Death sat in amongst them while they ate and chatted, but April felt like she was the only one who found it weird. She could never get used to Gardener funerals.
‘I’m just being friendly, Sis,’ Ian said.
‘You’re being a twat.’
Ian shrugged and got his phone out. April watched as he casually flicked through a dating app while he cracked open a beer with the other hand.
‘Uncle Johnny was your boss at the car wash when you were eighteen, wasn’t he?’ April asked.
‘Yeah, so?’ Ian said, without looking up from his phone.
‘You don’t seem that upset,’ April noted.
‘What you on about?’ Ian snapped. ‘Course I’m upset. He was like a dad to me after Pops died.’ He took a swig of beer.
April didn’t believe he felt that way at all. He was just saying things he’d heard on TV. That’s what he did. April didn’t understand him, never had. She didn’t know what he cared about other than the money he racked up from his wheeling and dealing.
April turned from Ian and saw her Auntie Jane, Johnny’s wife, sitting quietly near the coffin. She looked tense, on a knife-edge. ‘Anyone checked on Jane yet?’ April asked her brother.
‘Nah, she’s alright,’ Ian said and belched.
‘Her husband just died. I doubt that.’
‘Yeah, well, heart attacks happen,’ Ian shrugged. ‘I mean, it’s sad, but-’
‘I thought it was an aneurysm,’ April said.
‘Eh?’
‘Steve said it was an aneurysm.’ Steve was April’s oldest brother, the best of her brothers, a bit meat-headed and way too into working out, but essentially nice. April distinctly remembered him saying it was an aneurysm.
‘Are you sure Steve said that?’ Ian asked.
‘Said what?’ asked Steve, joining the pair.
April turned to him. ‘Oh, umm, didn’t you say Uncle Johnny… Didn’t he die of an aneurysm?’ she asked quietly, not wanting the widow to overhear.
‘I told her it was a heart attack,’ Ian said. ‘She doesn’t believe me.’
Steve paused. ‘Oh, yeah. I did say aneurism. But it was a heart attack too. He had both.’
‘Both?’ April asked, confused. ‘So, which one killed him?’
Before Steve could answer that, her third and final brother appeared, Ryan. He was the baby of the family, and he acted like it, always trying to please their mother, making her cups of tea, running her baths. He was kind of a weasel but harmless. He had his own contribution ready for the conversation. ‘He had a heart attack, and that led to an aneurysm. That’s what finished him off.’ He looked at Steve. ‘That’s right, innit?’
‘Yeah,’ Ian and Steve said simultaneously, with a strange amount of enthusiasm.
Before April could respond, her mother Marla popped up, a skinny, small woman with an upswept hairdo, knitting needles always in her hands, even today. ‘What are you four talking about?’ she asked, working on a small bobble hat.
April decided to leave alone the subject of Uncle Johnny’s death. Now didn’t seem the time. Auntie Jane was sat by the coffin, alone. ‘I’m gonna talk to Jane.’
‘Leave her, love. Give her some quiet,’ Marla said quickly.
‘But don’t you think she’d appreciate it if someone gave her a hug or-’
‘You’ll just say the wrong thing,’ Marla said.
April was offended. ‘I wouldn’t. I’m only going to let her know we’re here.’
‘Oh, no, I didn’t mean that. It’s just, she’s a widow, like me. Leave it to me to comfort her. You just enjoy the food,’ Marla said with a wink as she knitted her way over to Jane.
As if April could. It was a funeral. Why was everyone acting like it was any old family shindig? Uncle Johnny had been fifty-five. No spring chicken but not that old either.
So why wasn’t anyone sad?
***
April lugged the rubbish bag toward the back of the house, sure the bloody thing was going to split on her any second and spill half-eaten food and ashtray contents. But somehow, she managed to get it out of the backdoor, unbroken. Just a little further to the bins…
But in the backyard, which led directly onto an alley that connected a lot of her family’s houses, she heard a noise on the other side of the fence. A voice. Angry. It sounded like a woman. April froze with the rubbish, putting it down gently, not wanting to be heard. She’d come back for it later. She didn’t want to intrude on whatever private moment was occurring in the alley, but she caught something before she could go in.
‘You’re a bad lot, Ian. Johnny always said so,’ the voice said. It was Auntie Jane. ‘He was always scared of you, even when you were a kid.’
‘He was a pussy,’ Ian sneered back, unmoved. ‘Never trusted him. Weak stomach.’
April was horrified. Why the hell was Ian arguing with Jane about her recently deceased husband?
‘He wasn’t like you, cold,’ Jane said.
‘He was a fucking worm.’
‘He was a good person!’ Jane cried. ‘Better than the rest of you put together.’
‘Good people don’t rat on their family,’ Ian snarled.
‘He didn’t. He never would.’
‘He fucking did. He was spotted talking to a rozzer.’
April realised she’d drifted across her garden without meaning to. She couldn’t help it. What she was listening to had her transfixed. What was this about ratting? April didn’t understand what any of her family had to do with the police. This whole conversation was odd, slightly frightening.
But it got worse.
‘So, who did you have do it?’ Jane asked, her voice shaking. ‘I presume you didn’t do it yourself.’
When Ian answered, April could hear the horrible smile in his voice. ‘You really want to have that conversation?’
‘I know you were involved. I just need you to admit it.’
‘Auntie Jane, you might wanna fuck off now,’ Ian said, bored.
‘No, I won’t. I want to know who,’ Jane demanded.
‘No matter what it costs you to know?’
Jane’s voice shook. ‘I have to know.’
April knew at this point what the ‘It’ in question most likely was. But she didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t.
‘Alright. I had Steve do it. But don’t worry, he bled out quick. We didn’t want him to suffer.’
Jane wept. On the other side of the fence, silently, so did April. Her whole world had just opened up to display a rot at the centre. Her brothers had murdered their uncle. It didn’t make any sense, but April couldn’t deny what she was hearing.
‘You bastard!’ Jane finally said. ‘You’re all bastards!’ There was the sound of small feet running. Then bigger feet chasing. Then a thump, a small wail, and the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. April felt her body unfreeze at last, and she ran to the gate, throwing it open to see her brother leaning over her Aunt Jane with a hammer. The woman was still and quiet. April screamed. Ian turned and saw her. He looked deeply annoyed. ‘For fuck’s sake,’ he muttered. April backed away from him, back into the garden. She heard him walking down the alley, his expensive shoes clipping toward her.
