The Widows’ Club. Amanda Brooke

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       7

      Jason had been dead nine months, which perversely was the time it took to create a life; unless you were a widow; unless you had discovered your marriage was a sham. April’s life could only be described as barren, although she hid it well. She ate when she wasn’t hungry, slept although sleep was never peaceful, and rationed her display of emotions so as not to alarm anyone. The hardest part of her performance was in front of Jason’s parents. She kept in regular contact, and whenever she spoke to his mum, her feelings became confused. They cried together and shared the sense of loss that April otherwise denied herself since discovering the stone on Jason’s grave.

      With the November support group meeting still over a week away, work was April’s only refuge from troubled thoughts, but apparently not today. There was a cooing sound coming from the other side of the office that April studiously ignored. She had been over to say hello to Sara and smiled pleasantly at the six-week-old baby being passed from one clucking colleague to the next. It was only when the youngest member of the team, Georgie, was about to hand it to April that she had bolted back to her desk.

      April had a lot of work to do. For months she had been assisting rather than leading reviews, but it was time for the team to stop carrying her. She had convinced her manager she was ready to tackle one of the departmental reviews that had slipped in the last year and she had been disappointed not to be given the Highways Section – it wasn’t as if Jason worked there any more – but she was looking forward to losing herself in an audit of the staff attendance system.

      Choosing a cross-section of employees to sample for her review was proving difficult, and the arrival of Sara and the baby had made it doubly hard. Her assignment was simply to confirm that time adjustments had been authorised, but an opportunity had presented itself. Faith had told her to keep digging, and that was what she would do.

      April blocked out the background noise and stared at her screen. She had gathered a few names on her list so far and most were random selections, but not all. She needed to know what Jason had been doing behind her back and how he had found the time to get up to no good. They went to work together and they went out as a couple. There were only a handful of occasions she could recall in those last months when Jason had socialised without her, but if any of those nights had been a cover story, he had been thorough. There had been his team’s Christmas meal and a few nights out with the lads, but all were documented on Facebook with photos as evidence. April had checked.

      The only conclusion she could reach was that his illicit affair had taken place during the working week, which meant the council’s attendance system must hold a vital clue. That was why Jason Thorpe’s name was top of her sample list, but she didn’t have to stop there. It was entirely possible that Jason had sneaked off work to see someone completely unconnected with the council, but since she was looking anyway, why not add a scattering of female employees whose first name began with S? What harm could it do?

      The baby had started to cry and the sound played on every one of April’s nerves. Its mother, however, was less perturbed. Sara handed a soother to Georgie and left her holding the baby while she made her way over to April.

      ‘I hope we’re not disturbing you,’ she said.

      ‘Don’t worry, I can work through anything.’

      Georgie glanced over at them. She was rocking the baby with a growing sense of panic. It – he – was still crying. Sara had called him Fred. She was anything but conventional.

      ‘That’s not what I meant,’ Sara said. ‘If this is upsetting for you, we can go.’

      April’s hands were splayed over the keyboard and one finger sought out the letter S. ‘Can I ask you something, Sara?’

      ‘Sure,’ she said, drawing closer. Her hand came to rest on СКАЧАТЬ