The Widows’ Club. Amanda Brooke

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      ‘I’ve tried working out,’ April said, ‘but I can’t say it made me feel any better.’

      ‘Give it time,’ Nick said. ‘I was lifting weights when I had this lightbulb moment about starting a limo business. I invested every last penny into it and, touch wood, it’s going well.’

      ‘As are you,’ Jodie said.

      ‘I have my moments. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to pull over so I can bawl my eyes out. But just in case anyone’s thinking of using my services, I don’t usually break down when I have passengers in the back.’

      ‘Letting loose my emotions while driving is my speciality,’ Steve admitted. ‘I have two teenage lads and the last thing they want to see is me snivelling.’

      ‘Thankfully, I don’t have kids,’ replied Nick, ‘but respect to those who have to deal with someone else’s grief as well as their own.’

      When Nick glanced at Faith, she felt compelled to respond. ‘I have a grown-up stepdaughter, but I gave up trying to manage her feelings a long time ago.’

      The comment was the perfect segue into the broader topic of difficult relationships, and nearly everyone had a contribution to make. By the time Iain returned to his problems with his in-laws, it felt like the conversation had come full circle and Tara suggested they break up early, leaving time for another coffee and Justine’s untouched muffins.

      While Tara was cornered by Jodie, Faith went to join April in the foyer and Nick followed. They chatted for a while, but when the discussion turned to fitness regimes, Faith saw it as the perfect opportunity to leave them to it. She had unfinished business.

      Justine was understandably wary when she was pulled to one side, but Faith’s expression was full of concern when she said, ‘These meetings appear so seamless but I was thinking about what you said before about juggling childcare. It made me appreciate the extra effort you’ve taken tonight,’ she said. ‘How are things at home? It must be tough.’

      ‘Oh, we manage.’

      Faith leant forward. ‘Only manage?’

      ‘Well, let’s just say it’s not easy now that Isla’s graduated to secondary school. Two school runs before work are a daily challenge, I can tell you.’

      ‘No wonder the strain has been showing,’ Faith said, placing a hand gently on Justine’s arm. ‘You spend so much time supporting the newer members, it’s easy to forget that you need support too. I’m sorry if I was a tad harsh on you in the meeting.’

      ‘Oh gosh, it’s fine,’ insisted Justine. ‘If you can’t be honest and open in the meeting, where can you?’

      ‘The same applies to you, remember that,’ Faith said, her tone one of sympathy. ‘You must be worried about Tara. She’s another one with her hands full, and I know she thinks we could carry on without her but how would we fill the void? She’s been dropping hints about me taking over if she leaves. Can you imagine?’

      Justine paled. ‘No, not really.’

      ‘Exactly, but I can’t see you coping on your own either. We need to look after both of you. Don’t suffer alone.’

      ‘That’s very kind of you, Faith, but I … I’m fine, honestly.’

      Through the crowd, Faith spied Nick coming to join them. The timing was perfect. ‘That’s super,’ she said, releasing her grip on Justine’s arm. ‘Here, I’ll leave you two to it.’

      She stepped away, but Nick pursued her.

      ‘I’m heading off,’ he explained, ‘but it was a pleasure meeting you, Faith.’

      ‘I’ll see you next month then.’

      ‘You couldn’t keep me away,’ he promised. ‘But I was thinking it might be an idea to set up a WhatsApp group.’

      Faith wrinkled her nose. ‘We made a stab at using it at work, but all those pinging messages were so irritating. I muted all the conversations.’

      ‘I hope you won’t do that to me,’ Nick said, tilting the phone in his hand.

      ‘I can’t promise,’ Faith said. In the pause that followed, she realised he was waiting to take down her phone number. She reeled it out without thinking.

      STATEMENT

      The Widows’ Club @thewidowsclub

      We are saddened by the distasteful remarks on social media and in the tabloid press but are unable to respond to criticism whilst the police investigation is ongoing. The incident was a tragedy and we ask that people be respectful.

       5

      April lay on her back listening to the rattle of raindrops hitting her bedroom window. Darkness pressed against her closed lids and tried to push her back towards sleep as she struggled to work out if she had to get up for work. The sun hadn’t risen, but that meant nothing. It was nearing the end of October and the days were getting shorter. Winter was on its way, which immediately laid a trail of languid thoughts towards Christmas.

      They had bought a beautiful blue spruce last year and the memory of decorating the tree evoked the smell of woodland and the taste of mulled wine. Jason would recall only how he had picked pine needles out of his socks throughout January – except, April’s weary brain told her, he wouldn’t.

      Pain stabbed at her heart, making April gasp, and she wrapped her arms tightly around her body. She stayed like that until she lost track of time and consciousness, but even as she slumbered, she was aware of the space in the bed next to her. When the duvet moved, she let out a whimper and was pulled into a dream not of her choosing.

      Bright light flooded the room and April snapped her eyes open to catch sight of Jason jumping out of bed. Wearing only shorts, his skin glowed a healthy pink. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body and everything about him felt real. She needed him to be real.

      ‘You’re here,’ she said, her voice catching.

      ‘Of course I am. Where else would I be?’ he asked, looking around the flat they had shared together.

      ‘I thought …’ she began, raising herself on to her elbow. She didn’t want to mention his death for fear of breaking the spell. ‘I don’t know. I’m just glad you’re here.’

      Jason’s features twisted. ‘You thought I was with another woman.’

      ‘I didn’t. I never—’

      ‘Don’t lie to me, April. Don’t lie to yourself,’ he warned. ‘How could you think I’d cheat on you? I don’t understand why you don’t trust me. What did I do wrong?’

      ‘You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me. I’m being paranoid. I’m sorry,’ she cried.

      He fixed her with a stare. ‘Why do you hate me so much?’

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